He wants it all

by Marilena Barbagallo

  Dad, who until then seemed good to me, becomes who he really is. But just in his eyes, for now.

  “You have to do it, Krum,” he snarls.

  “No I won't.”

  I don't wanna do it.

  “It's part of our job. You have to do it,” he insists.

  He has no light in his evil eyes.

  He is shaking my shoulders so strongly that my head spins.

  “Is everything Ok?” The man's voice behind me asks.

  “Yes,” daddy replies. “He's ready. I'll leave you alone.”

  Dad goes away.

  I remain.

  Dad left me with that man.

  I remained alone with the man.

  The man looks at me and walks toward me.

  The man looks at me…

  The only thing that moves in my body are my eyes, to create tears.

  I suddenly wake up breathless. The sheets are stuck to my chest drenched with sweat.

  Ne, otnovo ne. No, Not again.

  I jump off the bed and run to the toilet to vomit the memory. When the nausea ends I wash my face and teeth, I should shave, but I don't.

  Never allow anyone to touch you inside or out.

  If someone would have taught me the right things...

  I take a shower and go down, with the idea of skipping breakfast. Oscar made me understand that the Father has to talk to me about a new assignment, so I start to look for him around the villa. Something in me imagines what it is and I pray - not in the real sense - that it is not what I think.

  I wouldn't accept it.

  Nikoga. Never.

  I meet Leonardo in the big hall, he is in a hurry, as usual.

  “Krum!”

  “Good morning.”

  My pose communicates my uneasiness. He notices it, but doesn't ask. I appreciate it.

  “Do you want to come to Venice with me? I have to go to the City Hall.”

  “Sure.”

  We reach the boat, it's just me and him and it makes me happy. We could talk about this blessed assignment, if it was true that he decided to give me one.

  The engine breaks the silence and I drive along the lagoon. The water is still, it's a nice day. The colors of the lush swamp remind me of how black it is inside me. It's amazing how much my dirty past can affect me, even after years.

  “Did you have fun last night, on your first night as a free man?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Too bad, I thought Oscar gave you a surprise,” he says artfully.

  “That surprise was welcomed, the rest, no.”

  “I'm not asking you anything, you wouldn't tell me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I have more to ask you.” I am all ears.

  “Tell me.”

  “You know the rules of the Sect. You know that after one year from the death of a member, we make the…”

  “Generational Change.”

  Tya ne, Tya ne. Not her. Not her.

  “So you know what it is.” I hope, until the end, that he is not talking about her.

  “What family are we talking about?” I ask.

  “You know it well.” The noise of the engine overhangs his voice, but I understood it perfectly: he is talking about my torment.

  “The Livori family. The heir of Mr. Alberto,” I say before him. It's better to say things as they are.

  “Yes, that traitor,” he underlines. He has never accepted the betrayal of one of the most esteemed founders.

  “Are you asking me to inform his daughter?”

  “His daughter has already been informed and I would like you go and get her so that she can answer the call personally. You know the procedure, you are free to behave as you believe best. Your style, after all, amuses me. And you already know her, you've had to do with her, you remember, don't you?”

  I remember every damn day.

  We arrive at the dock, near the stop Leonardo indicated. I have not answered him yet, my silence should reveal more than a statement. I turn off the engine and I see he doesn't start to leave the boat.

  “Did you understand, Krum?” His demanding tone, his cold eyes - no more than mine right now - claim an answer.

  “No, Leonardo,” I say.

  “No, what?”

  I don't care if he's disappointed. I never told him no and this would be the first time. He will understand.

  “I won't deal with this assignment. Give it to Oscar. You have so many guards at your orders.”

  I pull the sunglasses out of my jacket and wear them, so that my eyes are hidden from the anger I see coming from those of the Father.

  “Are you saying no to me?”

  “Yes, Leonardo, I'm telling you no. And I'm not going to discuss it.”

  “Why?”

  Because that woman destabilizes me.

  “Because I do not want.”

  “It's not an answer in your style.” He takes his briefcase, embraces his coat, starts up to the wooden walkway and jumps out of the boat. “Think it over, Krum. You know I don't accept no as an answer, especially from you.”

  I don't reply and watch him run away in a hurry. After all I have done for him he could accept a "no". It is not so serious. I don't want to have anything to do with the slut.

  I turn the engine on and speed back to the Temple, while in the dark of my mind, the list of all the Father's gifts to me come alive.

  Shut up mind, you won't go to her. You won't go to pick her up.

  Ne. No.

  I thought my anger was left in bed, but I took it with me. There is only one thing that makes me feel worse than the memory of when I was a child, and it's her.

  I try to understand why this woman is a real torment and the answer shocks me even more. Maybe... I'm deeply ashamed of what I did to her, but part of me enjoys just thinking of her: scared, trembling, trapped by me.

  I turn off the faint sentimentalism and come back to reality. I dock the boat and head fast to the Temple, in a desperate search for something to do. In jail I used to blow off anger with physical activity. There is a beautiful gym in the Temple, I could try to relieve tension hitting a sack.

  I go through the entrance of the great room. The windows let the sun rays come through shining on golden inserts on the opposite wall. It's an imperial room whose antique style contrasts sharply with the various machines set up here and there. At the end of the room, I see Oscar hitting a sack. His anger echoes to the high ceiling from which golden chandeliers hang. It looks like a ballroom, but you don't dance. You fight here.

  “Are we nervous today?” I ask, grabbing the sack.

  “No, I'm fine.” The drops of sweat drip down his blond hair while he keeps hitting the bag. “Where did you go yesterday?” he asks me in a pause.

  “I had enough of the Arcano.”

  I take off my jacket and hang it on the weight pole, then I take off my shirt and remain with a naked chest. Even though I wear my jeans, I still try to venture into physical activity. I jump up and I hang on the bar starting to pull me up doing pull ups. My arms and chest burn.

  “You had enough? But if you didn't do anything,” he notes.

  “I didn't find anything interesting.”

  I breathe, pull up, I inhale, come down and exhale

  “I did.”

  “The blonde's girlfriend?”

  “Yeah.” Malice covers him perfectly. He always has a look that speaks clearly.

  I breathe, pull up, I inhale, come down and exhale.

  “Did you see her without her mask?” I ask him, in order to understand if he realized who her friend was.

  “No. We didn't do anything.”

  I stop halfway down. My muscles burn, the abs pull. I cannot believe he didn't even touch her. It wouldn't be in his style.

  “And what did you do? You didn't just talk to her, did you?” I ask as if it was absurd. For me it is, indeed.

  I cannot imagine what to talk about with a woman. I have never really talked with the opposite sex, excep
t in a universal language that doesn't require words but just actions.

  “Really. We just talked and…" He's embarrassed. “I liked it. You aren't kidding me, are you?”

  I let go of the bar and drop down. I smile, I stretch my neck muscles and say: “Why should I make fun of a man who preferred talking to fucking?”

  “You are kidding me!”

  “You don't talk to women, you fuck them!”

  “You know about only one thing.”

  “That's right, and most of the time that the thing is on my cock.”

  “A woman would find you disgusting,” he laughs.

  “It's exactly as I want to appear.”

  I sit on the bench and lie down. My sweaty back sticks to the leather. I raise my arms and hold the bar, while Oscar, naturally, helps me to lift the weights.

  “Have you ever had a normal relationship with a woman?” he asks. I answer him letting go of the weights and he almost makes it fall on me because it is too heavy for him. I take it again and continue my series of lifts.

  “I've never needed to have a relationship with anyone.” I accentuate the word relationship, considering it a taboo in my mind.

  “Have you ever talked with a woman? I mean… have you ever found it pleasant to be with a woman in a different setting other than the bedroom?”

  “I don't have sex just in the bedroom…”

  “Fuck off, Krum, I'm serious!”

  I smile and I find it strange the way the conversation is going. Oscar must have found it nice to spend time with that girl and it really makes me laugh.

  “So, have you ever really talked to a woman or not?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I don't understand.

  The fact that I don't understand the meaning of his words is already an answer. It means I don't know the meanings of a normal conversation between man and woman.

  “Okay, I'll stop beating around the bush and I'll ask you clearly: Have you ever felt anything for a woman? Anything different than sexual desire?”

  “To go further?”

  “Yes, to go further.”

  “No!”

  “I had no doubts, Led.” He calls me Ice and there is no better time to point out my total inability to relate to the rest of my fellows.

  I get up from the bench and we change. He stretches out and I bend behind him to help him with the weights. We always do it this way when we have particular discussions to deal with. They come out in moments like this, when we don't necessarily have to look at each other.

  Something tells me that it's up to me, so, without too many words - which usually don't belong to me - I tell him clearly: “I talked to the Father and he told me about the assignment.”

  “I'm sorry, Krum. I know you don't want to take care of her.” Yes, he knows. He is the only one who knows my deep hatred for that woman. “But you cannot refuse one of the Father's requests,” he continues.

  “Oh, I did. This morning to be precise.”

  He leaves the bar in my hands and I put it in its place. He pops up and turns with his mouth wide open.

  “You said no to the Father?”

  “Yup.”

  I walk around the bench and grab a towel folded on a shelf. I dry my chest, thinking I don't have to justify myself with anyone. My choices belong to me and that's it even though I actually belong to the Sect.

  “What did that woman do to you?” I hear him say behind me.

  Anger surges in me like a volcanic eruption. I feel it boil ready to explode. The angry magma slips back down inside, I try to avoid exploding, but I turn to Oscar showing my worst look.

  “Nishto!” Nothing. I growl.

  Oscar fixes my neck, I must have the veins ready to squirt out of my skin. I clutch my fists to avoid catapulting my hands on his neck and to prevent him from talking, but he wants to test my self-control.

  “Seven years have passed, Krum. You avoided it, nothing happened, she went back home…”

  “Mlŭkni!” Shut up! I growl again.

  “Don't start speaking Bulgarian, you know I understand.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And don't try to get nervous just because I put you in front of reality.”

  In two strides I reach him and pull him by the shirt. The cloth tears under my fingers and I cannot lift him.

  “Krum, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Don't talk about her,” I shout, a few inches from his face.

  “Okay, okay!”

  I blink my eyes: a battle between my heart and nausea is breaking out in my chest. I realize that I'm lashing out my anger against my only friend and so I let him go, recognizing how I get when she is involved.

  I don't like it at all.

  “I ... I ...” I stutter, but I cannot excuse myself. I never apologize. Never.

  “All right, Krum.” The way he talks to me makes me nervous. It's like trying to calm down the anger of a mad man. But I am, and I should not be surprised. I gaze into the void, to avoid watching Oscar coming to me ready to say the right thing. He always says the right thing, unlike me that I don't know what is right.

  No one taught you what is right.

  He touches my shoulder and I move enough to let him know that physical gestures bother me.

  Instead of backing away, Oscar tightens his grip and tells me: “You know the Father. He always knows everything, he understands everything. If you say no, he knows how to hit you and succeed in making you surrender. If you say no, he will pass it to Manuel just to make you angry.”

  Listening to his words, my muscles contract, the magma bubbling in my stomach seems to climb up in my throat and explode: that eruption I was trying to avoid. I can control the anger that invokes violence. I stifle my fists, tighten my jaw, swallow, hoping not to explode uselessly.

  When I hear the words coming out of my mouth, I don't even recognize myself.

  “He must not dare to go near her.”

  “Then, accept the assignment.”

  8

  AMBRA

  I spent two days in total isolation. Mom isn't at peace with herself, she cannot understand my state, and if she has the slightest idea of how I feel, I cannot look in her eyes and forgive her for the silence of these years. I have no idea of what to expect or of who should come and get me, but these days, all my fears have come back like thorns.

  My mind goes back to the kidnapping, the day I came home after the payment of the ransom and my father's terrified eyes that lit up seeing me again. I cannot imagine that Dad has committed misconduct in his life. He, my hero, the perfect man in my eyes, is stained by such great sins that have provoked harmful consequences in my life. I don't know what to think, I don't want to imagine what fate has in store for me. I just want to stay locked in my room, under the blankets, far away from the world, from my loved ones, from everything.

  I turn on the cell phone for a moment. It's almost midnight and I didn't realize how dark it is everywhere. It's as if suddenly the night fell not just outside, but inside me as well.

  I ignore Emma's messages and even my mother's, who - despite being just a few feet from my room - insists on asking me how I am by text messages.

  Everything seems like in the past.

  I'm scared. Again.

  I hold my daddy's letter tight in my hands, hoping that it gives me the courage and the obstinacy I need. I recall his words, what he's asking me to do and I understand, even if he doesn't say explicitly, he is pushing me to be brave, strong.

  I don't think I've ever been brave, but once, he himself told me he had never met a strong woman like me. Perhaps only because he knew what I had endured, perhaps because he said he had perceived my own fear, more than my mother. I hold the sheet, now wrinkled, to my breast, close my eyes and see my fears: the constraint, the denial of freedom.

  With these bad thoughts, I hope to fall asleep and strip myself of the intrusiveness I feel, the sensation that materializes the nightmares on my skin.

  I'm in
front of a giant man. Compared to him, I am a dot to be erased with one blow. My heart is exploding in my chest. The fear he may hurt me comes back painfully, as if he had just smacked me. His eyes slap me and I am a victim of his cruel look.

  His look is cruel, yes.

  I swallow and step back, but then I see a level road. The light behind him looks like my salvation. I'm small, I'm slim, but I can be faster than him. I have to try to escape, I have to try to fight, I have to be skillful and escape from this sad destiny.

  He is immobile, standing in his arrogance, if I do it all quickly I can overcome him and run away.

  I inhaled a long breath and dart like a lightning bolt, but it was enough for him to stretch out an arm and catch my hair moved by the speed of the wind.

  I cry out loud, fearing he was going to pull my hair out of my head and I think he is doing it.

  I squirm as possessed by an evil spirit, imploring him to let me go.

  “Leave me alone! Help!”

  He doesn't say a word and, more seriously, he doesn't think of leaving my hair. He drags me into the garage, I punch him with my fists on his side, but it doesn't bother him at all. The grasp on my hair increases, he pulls harder, I feel my scalp on fire, the blood reaches my eyes that are full of tears.

  I collapse on the ground, but he doesn't leave me. He drags me and my jeans rub on the rough floor, raising dust and tearing them.

  “Let me go, please. You are hurting me…” I stand up, because if I contrast his strength, I'll lose all my hair. I sink my nails into his wrist, well covered by his jacket. He wears black gloves. I could not even hurt him, this animal wouldn't feel any pain.

  “Stop it!” I shout. “Don't hurt me anymore. Don't hurt me anymore…”

  “I've just started!” he snarls.

  He pushes me in a corner and I curl up, wishing to disappear and evaporate in the middle of the grey dust blurring my sight.

  “Never try to run away again.” His voice, stifled by the ski mask, is a tremendous rumble, the same as his look that is incinerating me.

  He hurt me and I'm sure he won't stop next time if I try to react again. Despite everything, though I feel the blade of his anger penetrating, I don't take my eyes off his.

  I stare at him scornfully, breathing as if I could soon suffocate. I have never felt my heart so much as now, I can hear its beating in my ears, in an echo in my soul that I fear will be crushed. By him.