Page 7 of Luciano

I barely had time to catch my breath before I heard the front door crash open.

Vito’s voice rang through the house.

Calling her name.

Then came her screams.

“No!”she cried.“No, please!”

I could hear his men drag her outside.

I wanted to run to her. I wanted to fight. But I was frozen. Stuck between terror and disbelief.

Then—

A scream.

Bloodcurdling.

And then—

Nothing.

Silence.

I don’t know how long I stayed under that bed.

Long enough for my muscles to lock up.

Long enough to pray to a God I wasn’t sure existed after all I’d seen and heard in my short life.

Eventually, one of Vito’s men found me.

Dragged me out. He took me downstairs to Vito.

This man stood in my face, looking directly into my eyes, and told me:

“Your mother went on a trip,”Vito lied.“She told me to take care of you.”

His hand moved through my hair. A mockery of affection.

My eyes never left the fresh mound of dirt I could see outside the window.

I didn’t cry.

Daddy had taught me better.

Tears were useless. Some things, you only share with God.

So I buried my grief deep.

Pretended Momma was just gone for a while.

I became a ghost in Vito’s house.

Silent.

Distant.

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