Page 56 of Tainted Obsession 1
While the other boys are out enjoying their freedom and learning how to become men, I’m sheltered. I watch them from the window in our dingy studio apartment that my mother tries to make into a home for us. They’re growing tall and strong, while I’m skinny and too short for my age. My father promises that I’ll hit my growth spurt in the next couple of years, and I shouldn’t worry about such things at the age of eleven.
I shoot a furtive glance at my parents. They’re having a quiet conversation near the check-out counter, where my father is stationed. He grins, and she tucks her hair behind her ear with a shy smile.
I roll my eyes. They’re so in love that it’s nauseating.
A real man shouldn’t be so devoted to his wife that he does whatever she says. My father could be out earning real money to support us, but he remains in this dead-end job at the grocery store because it makes her happy. We barely have the resources to put food on our own table, but he sells it to others. It’s a joke.
They’re so lost in their little flirtation that they might not notice if I slip away. I can still hear the boys, jeering and laughing.
I peek through the glass door and note five of them outside. The biggest one leans casually against the wall of the building across the street. He tips back a bottle of clear alcohol and takes a swig, barely grimacing as he swallows down the cheap liquor. One of the other boys holds out his hand, demanding his turn with the drink.
The biggest one—clearly their leader—cuffs him on the back of his head and snaps something, nodding at the other three. They’re all clustered around a motorbike.
The bike roars to life, and they cheer.
I’m not stupid; I know it doesn’t belong to them.
They’re one of the baby gangs that terrorizeLe Vele. They take what they want and live lawless, adventurous lives. If they’re lucky, one day they’ll becomecamorristi,and they’ll escape this hellish neighborhood.
The leader glances around furtively to check if there are any witnesses. Dark eyes pause on me, narrowing with suspicion.
I swallow hard but tip my chin back. My fists clench at my sides as I try to make myself look as big as possible. These boys only understand strength, and any show of cowardice on my part will probably end in a beating.
If I impress them, they might ask me to join them outside. They might let me have a taste of the wild freedom they enjoy.
The big one straightens, and the others snap to attention. They stroll across the street, approaching the shop. I stand my ground, waiting for them.
“Massimo!” My mother’s voice is more frightened than chiding. She grabs my upper arm and drags me back from the glass door.
I try to remain staunchly in place, but she hauls me behind her.
My face burns with embarrassment, but I’m too weak to resist even my slender mom. She’s humiliating me, and I scowl at her.
“Let me go. You’re making me look like a pussy.”
She gasps. “Where did you learn that word? You know better.”
“Don’t talk like that around your mother.” My father snaps at me, but a note of fear makes his voice hitch too.
The bell above the door chimes, signaling the gang’s entrance. I struggle to step around my parents, who are trying to shield me with their bodies.
But I’m not a child; I won’t hide behind them. If I do, the other boys will tear me to pieces out of sheer contempt.
“What are you looking at?” the leader demands.
“Nothing,” my father insists. “We don’t want any trouble.”
I manage to edge around my mom, so that I can at least see what’s happening. The boy’s eyes are so dark that they’re almost black, and they narrow on me.
“Are you telling me that little shit,”—he jerks his head at me—“didn’t see anything? Because I think he did. He was watching us like some kind of freak.”
I look him dead in the eye and say, “I didn’t see anything.”
I don’t say it out of fear, and my voice rings out clear and calm. I won’t tell anyone about the theft I witnessed. They can trust me. I could be one of them.
My father tenses, his bulky frame seeming to expand to fill the space between us. Despite the muscle that ropes his body, I know he won’t step up and fight. He’s a self-proclaimed pacifist, a pitiful value he’s tried to instill in me.
The gang doesn’t know that. They see a threat, and they act without hesitation.
