“Yeah, sorry to be the one to tell you this, but they won’t be. See, your daddy is dead. I made sure of it when we shot him after shooting you.”
My eyes bulge, and I quickly cover the gasp from my mouth. And there, in the silence, the boy cries so loud it breaks my heart.
My dad shot Matteo? Killed his daddy? Why? How could he shoot anyone, especially a kid like me? What’s wrong with him?
“Di-did you kill my brothers too?” His voice sounds crushed, and I’m hurting right along with him.
“Oh no, they’re very much alive, but they want nothing to do with you. I actually cut them a deal. They told me I can keep you in exchange for not hurting them. They’re long gone by now, kid. Far away from here. You’re on your own.”
Matteo sniffles. “I don’t believe you. My brothers love me.”
“I guess they love themselves more.”
“No! Let me go! I need to find them!” he cries on a shout.
“I’d calm down if I were you, kid, or I’ll gag you.”
But he only screams harder. “They want me back! You’re a liar!”
“I don’t give a fuck what some eight-year-old punk thinks. I’m your new family, so you better get used to it. You have no one else left.”
My father’s evil laughter does nothing to block the sound of the boy’s sobs, loud enough to crack the walls between us.
* * *
MATTEO AGE 8
The pillow is wet under my face as I remember what happened. My dad can’t be dead.
No, Daddy. Please. You have to be alive. You can’t leave me like Mommy did! You can’t leave me here.
Inside, my chest hurts like I’m being punched. Why did these men hurt my dad? He never did anything to anyone. He was always nice to all the people who came to the store.
And what that man said about my brothers, it can’t be true. They’ll find me. They won’t give up. Maybe I could send them a message somehow.
But I don’t know where I am or who these people are. I just want to get out of here. But everywhere I look, there’s someone watching me.
Agnelo, that bad man, left after he told me about Dad and my brothers. They would never just let these strangers have me. Maybe he hurt them like Daddy.
I remember the bad man. I remember the others too. There were four of them the morning they took us from the bakery. Dad and I were there very early. He was setting up everything before people started coming in.
He wasn’t going to take me that day, but I begged to come. My brothers were always saying I was annoying, so I wanted to be with my dad instead of them.
But then those men knocked on the door and nothing was the same again.
“Matteo, could you hand me that box next to you?” Dad asks, putting out some cupcakes on a round plate
I hop off the stool, pick it up from the counter, and bring it to him. “That looks so yummy! Could I have one?” I look at the chocolate Oreo cupcakes and wish Dad would let me have one for breakfast.
“Maybe after lunch,” he says, ruffling my hair as he takes the box from me.
“Fiiine!” I go back to the chair so I can look at my comic book. As I try to get back on the chair, I slip, the chair collapsing on top of me when I fall on my behind.
“Ow!”
“You okay?” Dad rushes over, lifting the chair off me and helping me up.
“I think so.” I rub my cheek where I got hurt.