Page 12 of The Devil's Den

“What happened? You can’t fucking talk now?” He smacks my chin with the back of his hand.

Don’t cry. Think of Aida and those funny faces she makes when I tell her about the pranks my brothers would play on each other.

I start to smile. That helps. She helps me. She’s my only friend now. The only person I have.

“You’re dumb too, I guess.” He laughs cruelly, moving away from me, but I just stare at him. “I should take the bucket away and make you piss your pants, but Agnelo doesn’t want your stink dirtying up his house. Too bad we can’t cage you like the rest of them.”

My heart races. My breathing going faster and faster. “I’m going to kill you.” The words slip out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.

He laughs. “You? That’s cute. Well”—he comes right up to me, his disgusting breath wafting over my mouth—“my name is Louis Esposito. You can try, kid.” He shakes his head as he stands straighter. “Man, maybe Sal wasn’t wrong about you. Maybe we can make you into one tough and crazy son of a bitch. You better hope so, or your life will get a lot worse.”

I can’t wait to hurt him. He’ll be the first, right after I kill Agnelo.

He finally leaves me alone, going up the stairs, the door closing behind him. A little bit later, I stand, reaching under the mattress to get out the pad and pen Aida gave me.

But there’s something else I’ve hidden there too—a photo. The only one I have of my family. The only sad thing about it is my mom isn’t in it. It was taken after she died. Gerard, the man who works in the candy store next to Dad’s bakery, took it of us while we were there. I’m sitting on Dom’s lap, all of us smiling and happy.

I always keep it in my pocket wherever I go, and the day Agnelo and those others came, I still had it. If they had found it, I know they would’ve thrown it out. I’m lucky it didn’t fall out of my pants pocket when they had me upstairs.

I stare at the picture another second, the back of my nose burning when I remember that my brothers left me. My chin quivers. How come they don’t love me anymore? Wiping under my eyes, I quickly stuff the photo back under the mattress in case someone comes down.

Still holding on to the notepad, I plop back down, starting to draw, then scribble a message on the other side once I’m done. It’s not perfect, but I think I spelled it right. And that’s when I remember I may never go to school again, and I start crying quietly against the pillow. I miss my friends, my teachers.

“I want my family back,” I weep with a pant, unable to catch my breath. “Please!” After a few minutes of feeling bad, I rip off the piece of paper with my picture on it and hide it under my pillow, before stuffing the pad and pen under the mattress.

When Aida comes down again, I’ll give her the picture I made. I really hope she likes it.

CHAPTERFIVE

AIDA

“Has the boy said anything?”Dad asks as he slips into his black shoes, his back to me, getting ready to leave for the night.

“Not really.” I twirl a strand of hair around my index finger.

“Nothing at all?”

“No.”

He takes out a jacket and puts it on, facing me this time.

“You lyin’ to me?” His thick, black eyebrow rises.

“No, Daddy. I wouldneverdo that.”

“Mm-hmm. If he says anything that you think is important, you better tell me. You hear?”

“Of course, Daddy.” I grin. Obviously I’d never tell him anything. Matteo’s my friend, and whatever he tells me is our secret. “Why is—” But I immediately stop talking as soon as the question begins rolling out of my mouth.

He stares coldly, flipping a hand in a what-do-you-want motion. “Well, what were you gonna say?”

“Never mind.” I puff out a breath.

“I don’t have time for this shit. I have places to be. Goodnight.” He sets for the door, his hand on the handle.

“Why are you keeping him locked up?”

“What did I tell you about minding your business?” He comes near me, his footsteps pounding across the floor, my pulse now popping in my throat as I swallow. His finger is on my chin, lifting my face up to his. “Don’t question me ever again or else you’ll never see him anymore.”

---