Page 43 of Righteous Deceit

“You told me it would be okay.”

“I thought she’d listen to you and stay away until we could convince her to run.”

My legs tremble beneath me, and I sit down heavily on the floor. Or I collapse, I don’t know. But one second, I’m standing, and the next, I’m cross-legged on the carpet, lifting my drink to my lips.

“How long do teenagers get for murder? Life? I don’t think Illinois has the death penalty. Is the state allowed to request capital punishment for someone who isn’t eighteen? It seems silly that I’m legally not allowed to drink, but they could put a needle in my arm to put me to sleep forever. What do you think? Should I call our lawyer? Should I run away? I guess Dad’s lawyer would likely not want to represent me, considering I killed his client.”

My words run into one another, soft hitches of breath mixed in the sentences and questions with no beginning and end.

“Alessia. Shut up.”

I nod, but continue. “Have you ever killed someone? Actually, no, stupid question. You would have told me. Should I feel worse than I do? I know I robbed someone of life, but instead of feeling guilty, I’m pleasantly numb. Not sad, but not happy. Maybe this is how I’ll feel forever. Maybe when you take a physical life, your soul dies as penance.”

“Alessia!”

I startle. My brother stands over me. “Hm?”

“Shut up. Stop speaking. Breathe. Let me think.”

Salvatore has his hands braced on the back of his head. His focus travels between our father, brutally murdered on the floor, and me, rocking back and forth in uncertainty, biting my nails.

“I killed someone,” I whisper.

Shock has claimed me, but culpability has found its way inside my head.

“I know,” my brother responds. Dropping down to his haunches, he brushes my hair from my face. “Don’t let guilt or regret overcome you in here.” He taps my temple lightly. “Some people deserve to die, Alessia. The world knows it, but few are brave enough to act on it.”

I stare into his dark eyes, drinking in the refuge only my brother can offer me. Peacefulness settles deep inside me, and I stop rocking.

“The world is a better place without Edoardo Bianchi. You’ve done the world a favor. You’ll save countless lives with the sacrifice of his.”

“What have you done?” Our mother’s soft voice catches on the question she in no way needs an answer to, garnering both Salvatore’s and my attention.

My brother stands slowly. I scramble to my feet.

Positioning himself in front of me, Salvatore attempts to shield me from view. But it’s too late. She saw me. She saw me covered from head to toe in her husband’s blood.

“What did you do?” she screeches, moving into the room and dropping to her knees in front of my father’s lifeless body.

“He attacked me,” I whisper, peering out from behind Salvatore’s shoulder.

It’s almost humorous that I murdered my father with a smile only minutes ago. But in the face of my mother’s disapproval, I still cower.

“Alessia,” Salvatore warns.

She won’t care. He knows that. I know that. But Iwanther to. I want her to choose us for once in her fucking life. I want her to be the mother she was supposed to be. Not one of us had my father’s love, but we could have had one another’s. We would have loved her unconditionally had she offered us the same. But she couldn’t. She hated that we were just another failure on her journey to make Edoardo love her.

“He beat me. He threatened to kill me. He killed Lucy!” I scream.

“You stupid little girl.” She stands.

“Don’t say another word.” My brother blocks her path to me. “Don’t youdaresay another word.”

“You’d protect her?” She recoils. “You’d protect her after she didthis?” She points at the bloody form of her husband.

“Always,” Salvatore answers.

“I—You—Shewill never get away with this. They will kill you,” she spits. “The family will kill you.” She smiles right at me.

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