White sheets soaked in crimson.
Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I head to my room. I’ve thought about buying my own place but my mother’s memory ties me here. My room is also the size of an apartment, and it’s safer for us to be here together. A united front.
Shedding myself of my clothes, I blast the shower as hot as it goes and allow the heat to punish my skin. I rub the soap into my flesh knowing it will never get me truly clean.
Breaking down a body takes work. And it gets messy. There’s no way I’d trust any of those men to dispose of the little hiccup tonight. If we hadn’t been there to find him and he was there undercover, they would have all been fucked. Rookie and reckless behavior.
My fingers trace over my own scar over my right pec. Memories of the night we both nearly died with our mother and little sister scald my brain. No amount of time has dulled the memory, altered, or dimmed it. It’s as vivid today as it was then.
Eleven years.
My mother’s smile fills my mind in slow motion, like a movie clip glitching on that perfect image of her happiness and beauty. My fist clenches and hits against the tiled wall, my knuckles splitting on impact, a crack spreading under my fist.
Fuck.
Blood turns the water at my feet into a crimson whirlpool. Rinsing, I turn the shower off, towel dry, then throw myself onto the bed naked, exhaustion dragging me under.
“Noah, wake up. I heard a gun.” Remi’s voice shakes as he shoves at my shoulders.
“It’s probably a car backfiring,” I groan. Then I hear it. Pop, pop.
“There’s another one.” Remi’s eyes are so wide, his face so pale, it makes my own eyes water.
Grabbing a martial arts trophy off a shelf, I turn toward the door where Remi is now standing. Another shot rings out, closer this time. Remi’s body jolts, going limp, thudding to the floor like dead meat falling from a meat hook.
“Remi,” I holler.
The figure of a man fills the doorway. Stepping over my brother, he aims his gun at me. I launch the trophy at him, catching him in the head. He lurches back, his gun firing with the movement. A blaze penetrates my chest just below my shoulder, the impact forcing me off my feet, tumbling to the bed behind me. The hardwood floors groan under his feet as the sounds of his departure echo around the room.
Will alone forces me back to my feet. I grab the phone to call an ambulance and fall to my knees next to my brother, the receiver almost slipping through my blood-coated hands.“Mom!” I scream, terror rushing through my veins. There’s a hole in Remi’s head. “Mom, help me!”
Our father didn’t come home like he promised. It’s Rose’s birthday. She turned six today. Shit, Rose. The realization of hearing other shots propels me to my feet. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance. An intruder shot my brother.” My breathing labors, every movement sucking energy I don’t have.
“Is the intruder still in the home?”
“I…” wheeze, “don’t know…” wheeze. “He shot me.”
“Are you injured? Sir, can you stay with me? Speak to me, can you get to a safe place?”
My feet slow, my stomach wrenching at the entrance to my mother’s room. Light floods the space, like the man wanted us to see his work. Her sheets are so red, her vacant stare. “Mom?” I croak, my eyes misting, my mind begging me to run, to wash away the horror.
Churning in my stomach burns, twisting my insides. My footsteps feel like lead, the soles of my feet sinking into the soft pile of her carpet where my baby sister lay so still like a doll, a seeping hole in her head. My soul weeps, fleeing my body.
Six years old. Murdered.
Darkness chases me as my legs turn to gum and my mind shuts down. “Sir, are you still there?”
A gasp rushes from my lungs as my eyes spring open. My heavy breathing fills the room, sorrow drenching me in sweat.
I haven’t dreamed about that night in years.
Covering my face with my hands, I swipe away the sweat collected there. It took months for Remi and me to heal from our wounds after that night. Remi being a marvel. Extremely lucky, the doctors had said. Once they removed the bullet from his brain, it cost him some of his memory, but he was alive and would live a normal life. My wound was superficial. No organ damage, a few nerves that sometimes ache even now, but we’re alive. Remi has no memory of that night. I wish I could erase the images that torment me and just remember the good, but my brain won’t allow it.
Our father promised us, in our hospital beds, the Gallo family would pay with blood. That’s how things were done in our world. Blood was paid in blood. He never elaborated on why that evil, vile cunt was in our house, taking such brutal measures against our father. He said a bad business deal, but it felt too personal. That’s the world we live in: brutal and unforgiving. I’ll never allow that to happen again. Our father should have been home that night. It was Rose’s birthday. He’d promised. He didn’t keep that promise, but he made true to his promise to wipe out every living Gallo.