Page 3 of Beautiful Desire

What the hell is he doing here? Recognizing me, he relaxes for a split second before he shouts once again. Realization sets in as to why he’s here.

No. NO!

Before I can think better of it, I open my mouth and try to plead with my father.

“Papa—”

I barely get his name out before he backhands me across the face, grabbing me by the collar and getting right in my face.

“Don’t even think about it, Arturo. We are here because ofyou. You will do as I say, or you’ll find yourself six feet under. Capisce?”

Swallowing hard, I nod my head. “Si, Papa.”

Letting go of me, he wipes his hand down his signature Armani suit, and I see him transform into Signore Bianchi, Don of the Cosa Nostra. My father speaks with so much gusto and authority, letting everyone know he’s in charge and to think better about questioning him.

“Sorry we’re late. Ran into a little problem on the way here.” He turns back, looking at me. “I see you’ve started without me.”

“Si, Signore Bianchi. We did what you asked,” Mario says.

“Bene, bene. As you all know, we’re here for my youngest son, Arturo’s, initiation. It’s his sixteenth birthday today, and this tradition in la famiglia dates back centuries. This marks when you become a man and are officially apart of the Cosa Nostra. A tradition not just myself, my papa, and your brothers have taken part in, but ourentirefamily. After Mario caught Massimo stealing from our restaurant, I thought he would be the perfect person for your initiation. Now, seeing as he’s the same age as you, I was going to let you get by tonight by just roughing him up to teach him a lesson: you don’t steal from Signore Bianchi. But after your little display at the house earlier, I think youbothneed to be taught a lesson.”

He stops talking and slowly turns away from a scared Massimo, looking me directly in the eyes as he delivers his next blow, the final nail in both of our coffins.

“You, my son, will have the traditional initiation after all, like your brothers and the rest of the famiglia.”

A sinister look takes over his face as the realization of what he just said finally sinks in.

I need tokillMassimo.

Mybestfriend. The person who’s been more of a brother to me than both of my own over the past few years. I can feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. He just said he was going to let me off easy by beating him up, but I had to go and defy him and tell him no.

Fuck! I can’t kill Massimo. What am I going to do?

While I look around for my exits to see whether or not I can outrun these men, my father steps up to me and whispers in my ear.

“Don’t even think about it. It’s either kill or be killed. What will it be, son?” Moving away, he reaches behind his back and pulls out his Glock G18C and holds it out to me. “The choice is yours. Tick-tock.”

My palms start to sweat as I look at the gun in my father’s outstretched hand. I shift my focus to Massimo, and my stomach twists with nerves as we make eye contact. Just seeing him beaten and tied to a chair makes me want to throw up.

How can I possiblykillmy best friend? My temple throbs with the decision I have to make. I know if I don’t do this, my father will…right after he puts a bullet between my eyes for disobeying his orders.

Regardless of what I choose, I lose my friend tonight. A somber feeling washes over me as reality sets in.

Before accepting my fate, I make a vow to myself to let this be the one andonlytime. Iwillget out of Italy and make a name for myself far away from here and everyone I know. I reach for the gun in my father’s hand, and it instantly feels out of place and much heavier than the guns I’ve shot with before.

I can feel a mask slip over me as my body goes numb. My mind wanders to my brothers and how they must have felt during their initiations, but I quickly squash that. I can’t think about them. Otherwise, I’ll be the one on the other end of this barrel.

As I’m approaching Massimo, I see the terrified look in his eyes. The gag is still in his mouth – the only thing I’m thankful for, because if I had to hear his screams, I wouldn’t be able to go through with this.

Stopping five feet away from him, I can now see the bruises on his face. Tears prick my eyelids and I clench my teeth, refusing to show my father any signs of weakness. Beads of sweat break out along my hairline, and one rolls down my temple as I try to get my breathing under control. My heart is beating so fast, I feel like I might pass out.

Every part of me aches with what I’m about to do. I know the only way I’ll be able to do this is if I remove myself from the situation. I close my eyes and let every ounce of pain and heartache slip away. When I open them back up, I don’t feel anything but numbness.

Taking a deep breath, I raise my arm holding the pistol, and speak only loud enough for us to hear. “Mi dispiace. Ti prego, perdonami.”I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.

Aiming the gun so it will be a quick death, I close my eyes and pull the trigger. Brain matter and blood cover the front of me, and I hear cheers erupt from my father’s men.

Lowering my arm, I open my eyes and instantly regret it.

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