But Enzo, he's different. He wasn't integrated into the family because of legacy. And I'd heard Maximo call him ‘soldier boy’ before. By process of elimination, I'd concluded that he was in the military at some point, and it makes sense. There’s this look to him, rigid and trained as if he's just waiting for his orders. And there's also little flashes in his eyes some days, as if he isn't here anymore, but at another place and time when things were even more dangerous, somehow.
We reach the bottom step and I continue to watch him, even when he turns and glances at me briefly before turning back around. When I expect him to go to the front door so we can get in the car and go to the shooting range, we go the opposite way.
He takes me through halls, past the kitchen and into another hall that I haven't been down before. He pulls open a wooden door and gestures for me to walk in front of him. It's dark inside for a moment, until a light flickers on and I find myself one foot away from a set of stairs. A set of stairs I would have fallen down if I'd tried to take another step.
I turn to look at Enzo.
His face is hard as stone. "Walk," he says in a clipped tone, waving a big hand at the stairs.
I clench my fists, making my way down the stairs. At the bottom, there's a sharp turn that leads to a set of cubicles divided by plastic. In front of the cubicles, about thirty feet away, are posters of targets with little rings and numbers.
"Stall 5," Enzo says as he moves around me to a tall footlocker.
I glance up at the numbers stenciled onto the cubicles, finding stall five and waiting for Enzo.
He walks over with a black bag in his hand, dropping it at my feet with a resounding thud before bending over to pull items out. He holds out a pair of plastic glasses to me and I slide them on.
Next, he passes me earmuffs. "Don't put them on yet," he orders. He takes a small, black pistol out of the bag.
He removes the clip, inspecting it before returning it to its spot. Once he's done, he picks up the bag and tosses it onto a bench.
"We're going to go over the basics first, because you can't properly shoot a gun, or expect to, unless you know how it works." He continues to speak but I find myself zoning out once again, my mind drifting to the night when the Ramos cartel almost killed me.
Yea I was scared at the time, but maybe dying that night wouldn't have been such a bad thing. I shudder.
What if he shot me but didn't kill me?
Would they have taken me to the hospital or would they have called in the family's doctor, like when I got kidnapped? I can't quite remember what the lady's name was. I do remember how nice she was though. Her smile was friendly and soft, her eyes full of joy, even as she explained that I needed some time to recover from the shock but that I would be alright.
And when she'd encouraged Giovanni to make sure I wasn't doing too much, I couldn't figure out how in the hell she'd gotten involved with the family.
Was she like me?
Did she allow a family member to trade their life for her soul?
Did she regret her decision?
Had it changed her until she couldn't recognize the woman staring back at her in the mirror?
Because that's how I'm starting to feel. Every day, piece by piece, I start to slip away and this Winter that I don't know, that I don't understand, continues to walk around in my body on autopilot, like a robot.
How much longer do I have until I completely slip away?
"Winter," Enzo snaps harshly and I jump.
My heart races in my chest as I stare at him, trying to figure out what's going on. He's still holding the gun in his hand, his grip on it tight as he points the barrel at the ground. His finger is nowhere near the trigger, which is a good sign, I guess.
He won't kill you without permission from a higher up, anyway. He's a good soldier boy, remember, or at least that's what Maximo says.
But can I truly believe what comes out of that snake's mouth?
"Winter." His voice isn't as loud this time but it's just as sharp and annoyed. "You're not paying attention."
I'm not.
He shakes his head. "Listen this time, or I'm going to have to tell Giovanni that you're not taking your training seriously, and I can promise you that you won't like the consequences."
Fuck you, I want to say, but I don't dare.