Page 47 of Forgotten Deeds

Sammy flips me off before hurrying to catch up to his buddy, but abruptly stops. Spinning around, he flings the knife at me.

Cursing, I duck just in time as the blade sails dangerously close to my right ear. The knife hits a rock behind me and bounces off with a clang, landing in the sand. “Will you look at that. You do have nice reflexes. Keep the knife as a parting gift.”

It’s my turn to flip him off, and he chuckles as he disappears.

Holding my hands on top of my head, I laugh in disbelief. Not every day you escape death by the skin of your teeth. Or your ear.

Picking up the weapon, I examine it closer. The only knives I have experience with are found in the kitchen. This one with its razor-sharp blade made out of what looks to be black-coated steel would eat my chef’s knife for breakfast.

I had every intention of working out, and now that I’ve got all this extra adrenaline from my little encounter with Romeo and Sammy, I place the knife down and begin my routine. First, I warm up, then move to a set of squats using a large boulder as my resistance. My goal is to one day be bigger than my old man; then he’ll think twice before fucking with me and Mamá.

Finishing my workout, I cool off in the turquoise sea, replaying Romeo’s offer in my mind. I daydreamed of going to the States when I was younger, maybe even going to uni there. Until my old man drilled into my head I’m nothing but a dumb brute. Eventually, I gave up trying in school and dropped out.

By the time I get out of the water, the sun’s starting to set, and I quickly make my way to the tavern with my “parting gift” tucked into my waistband.

Giving Mamá a kiss on the cheek, I help her wash dishes while she mills about preparing plates. Babás is nowhere to be seen. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, I don’t ask about my old man.

We finish for the night, and I grab some fruit and water, sneaking to the outdoor patio for a break before tackling the cleanup.

There’s a commotion coming from the kitchen, and dread fills me as I sprint inside. “This place looks like a pigsty! Are you trying to embarrass me?” Babás thunders, backhanding Mamá so hard she falls to the floor. But that’s not enough—he begins kicking her over and over in the stomach.

“Παρακαλ? σταματ?στε!” Mamá begs.

Something in me snaps, and it’s like I’m watching it happen while hovering above my body. Moving silently behind Babás with the knife in my hand, I grip him by his curly hair, jamming the blade in the side of the neck.

He squeals, bringing his hand up to jerk the knife out, but rage coursing through my blood makes me stronger than him. I keep pressing the knife into his flesh until I hear bones splitting; that satisfying crunch fuels my bloodlust, and I laugh as he crumbles to his knees.

I squat down next to him, jerking the knife out and stabbing him again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

A wail startles me, and I realize that sound’s coming from me as I continue hacking at the lifeless body—blood covering me like a second skin.

“Darius, stop!” Mamá shouts; or maybe she’s been shouting this entire time.

My chest heaving, I drop the knife. The figs and water I consumed earlier come back up in a violent rush, and I puke everywhere.

“What do we have here?”

I look up to see a man dressed in an Italian suit who’s obviously Romeo’s father—same build, same face, same frown—surrounded by muscled-up men.

“Antonio, that’s Darius. He’s my new associate,” Romeo says, appearing next to his father, along with Sammy.

“I see,” the elder Parisi says, tenting his fingers. “The problem is this new associate of yours just butchered my new associate.” Eyeing my father’s lifeless body, he adds, “And created quite the mess.”

“Whatever business you had with my husband, I can handle,” Mamá says, now standing beside me, grasping my bloody hand. Her right eye’s starting to swell shut, and she’s clutching her stomach with her free hand.

“And Sammy and I can help with the cleanup,” Romeo offers.

“Maria, isn’t it?” Mr. Parisi addresses Mamá.

“Yes, sir.”

“You really think you can handle your husband’s business interests?” Mr. Parisi questions.

---