Beatrice Costello
My right ear asked for rest from the incessant sound and even with the pain I let the music take over, when you lose your mind do you feel free or alive?!
It wasn't the time to hold back the pain, not when my demon needs to sing, when my mind needs to feel the blood heating. I watched his eyes tremble, his breathing out of rhythm and the sweat on his forehead instigating the worst in me, something I never imagined would be possible as a distant dream coming true, now. I chose the dull-edged axe.
I raised the axe, letting the blade catch on the bone of the ankle, making a swinging motion as if I were chopping wood, to draw it not from a piece of wood but from the bone, repeating the movement and seeing the way in which his eyes They turned and looked down to see that I'd left only a stump in place, their growls reverberating around the room with isolation blending with the music. I dropped the ax on the table listening to a brief sigh of relief, although his look now carries a challenge, what he doesn't imagine is that hell is here, he was the one who taught me that by teaching me that between the walls of this basement the one with power is the judge and the executioner. I grabbed a cloth and walked to her little closet, found the acid I needed, and came back pressing the acid cloth to what was left of her ankle. Her body writhing with pain, kneeling I lifted my gaze to meet his, the pain reverberated through my lip as the knee broke the skin, I licked tasting the viscous liquid and smiling with pleasure.
I am your executioner, your owner, your hell, the only one capable of having your love, because we are dirty, we are made of the same rottenness.
My troubled and dazed mind brought back the unfortunate words, memory is a disgusting bitch.
I used the same red ball I was forced to wear, which made the sight bring me such distorted pleasure. Seeing him like this, helpless, I feel that I am taking his throne.
Is this who I am now? A version of it?
An executioner like Stefano has been all these years.
I got up looking at the work as a whole, the sculpture that will live on in my memories, it would have been more difficult without my brother's help to secure it to that butchery rod, convincing him was complicated, but it was worth the pleasure of reciprocating all your love is mine alone.
-This is our love. -I say smiling, standing up, choosing the new weapon on the table. – Let me show you.
And that will be my most pleasant memory.
Every 'I love you' being returned in its own way, using the moment to avenge every child he raped in front of me and every child he took from me.
I took the metal stick swinging from one foot to the other feeling the music command my movements, when the bass reached the apex I rotated my hips and hit him in the ribs listening to the sound of bones breaking, like a soft melody.
I shook my head, watching what the next point would be and suddenly it didn't make sense anymore, nothing made sense, nothing but a battered, panting piece of meat reduced, only everything ends one way or another and the end isn't always a happy one. fairy tale. Despite the seeping pleasure, the feeling of finally satiating that ravenous little bloodlust, I was consumed by the desire to see him in pieces, like all the pieces he had made of me.
With a cleaver I began the cuts, making sure to let him feel each one of them his eyes rolling in pain, heightening my pleasure and the moans filling the space and the drool running down the red ball, the blood splattering all over the room, I let go of the cleaver and grabbed a knife, reaching into his abdomen and slicing open his guts from one end to the other, falling to the ground, the pleasure of killing becoming a part of my soul, his eyes losing life.
I started with them, that part that one day eluded the little world of fantasy making me believe that I could be happy inside the mafia, I stuck the knife in each of his eyes, I put each one in a small box, I walked to the other side of the room pulling the metallic drum positioned just for that, his feet thrown across the room were flung like a basketball, I caught the guts throwing inside the drum.
Without an ounce of compassion or pity for the dead.
“With the cleaver will take a long time,” I blurted out loud to the corpse in front of me.
I took the knife and cleaver to the table picking up the axe, making the throwing preparation and there goes a thigh ready to be shattered.
And in this ritual of disemboweling every piece of the body, I expelled every painful memory, every hurt, not even if everything goes wrong, this small moment will always be my victory.
I took the gallon of gasoline throwing it inside the drum, climbed on a stool and untied the trapped hands adding to the small barbecue, his head at the bottom without eyes coming towards me drew a laugh. I pulled back enough to lean the tired body against the door, picking up his pack of cigarettes and lighter.
As soon as I threw the lit lighter into the gas, I puffed on my first and only cigarette.
Feeling all the lies being burned by the fire next to the man who was once my husband, the intense blue eyes promising and swearing a non-existent love with each beating, forcing my mind for a single moment to think I was guilty of his evil deeds.
Am I losing my sanity?
Losing myself from reality?
The cigarette is gone, and the flames continue to consume all the fuel, the smell of burning flesh must have settled on my skin.
But I wanted to be there and nowhere else in the world, to see what for a single moment was the air I breathed, the master of my demon turn into ashes is like coming without having sex. And though no one could take his place, even in death he is my deepest pain, my most open and most sun-exposed scar.
The dream of a happy life and of building a pure love with a big family is my dream of a margarine commercial that just went up in smoke.
I waited that at some point regret would strike, that the pain would make me numb, that the air would fail. Still, by some joke of fate I felt my lungs draw in air comfortably for the first time, felt pleasure filling my veins. I rolled my eyes at the mess, that was the only moment of discomfort I felt.
Drink me, feed me and let me show you the light.
My demon seemed finally free of its shackles and through some madness, that's comforting.
I took the alcohol from the shelf beside me and walked towards the dirty ax on the table, with a new flannel, I started to clean the blood, smelling the rust and watching the shine of the ax appear.
I continued the same process on each knife, each razor, each needle and each pliers, all the last twenty-four hours I've spent here have paid off. Every scream of pain present within memory is kept especially in a place where the past cannot be forgotten.
Beatrice Costello
And now every piece of me took a toll on maintaining itself, I breathed as deeply as I could, leaning against the wall, took the cell phone off the shelf, turning off the sound and opening the door. The darkness embraced like an old friend, climbing each step I expected to feel any remorse and all I felt was a huge nothing.
Walking through the dark house, groping along the walls for some support for my tired legs, I managed to reach the bedroom, and as in a silent prayer I connected the cell phone to the sound system, threw the device on the bed without caring about the number of missed calls or messages.
I sighed, losing myself from reality feeling the taste of blood filling my mouth after cutting my lips biting.
I could have lost my sanity and still, it didn't matter.
His blood being spilled and running down the corners, the fire in his blue eyes being consumed, and the ashes that rose in the sweltering place.
It's that whisper in my mind that brings the first smile to my lips after the chaos, and that little feeling I'll never let go of. Even at the cost of innocent blood. Facing the mirror inside the bathroom, I realized that the sound had already been turned off because maybe the cell phone had finally discharged, in the reflection someone different from what I was used to seeing, with a livid head, I entered the box leaving the water running down the body cleaning the dirt clinging to my skin, because what clings to my soul cannot be cleaned.
I felt it was enough and left the box wrapping my body in a towel, I walked out of the bathroom holding the bag in which I put all the evidence that could indicate my crime and staining the whole house with blood, I left the bag next to the door entry so you don't forget to take out the trash even without knowing if it's collection day or what day it is.
I walked to the kitchen counter where I used to leave the charger and plugged it in feeling a small shock in my hand and a small red ball instantly appear on the tip of my finger.
The pain didn't bother her anymore, maybe she was the only true companion in all these years. I moved a little to the left opening the fridge door and getting out the orange juice, milk and two eggs. I prepared the frying pan and cracked the eggs, taking a kettle to pass a strained coffee and putting it on the fire, I took a glass and filled it with juice, watching the eggs crack inside the frying pan as the crack of bones breaking filled my mind and ears .
The kettle whistled and the smell of the eggs began to burn, I turned off the heat and placed the eggs on a flat plate, brewed the coffee as calmly and precisely as the art that is. Grabbing my biggest cup I filled it with coffee and covered it with milk until it splattered out as I lifted it off the counter, I took a sip feeling my stomach grateful for the food that had been stolen from it. I looked down at the glass still full of juice, spilling its contents across the kitchen mixing with the drippings of blood from every open wound.
The sound of a car outside didn't surprise me, and when one of the few people with a key to my house entered, the silence fell and the air that came through the door cooled the house.
His eyes searched the house looking for something that would never be there again, understanding seemed to hit his thoughts, watching my small breakfast. His proximity in slow steps was not surprising, but his silence for the first time in his life bothered him.
Eyes as dark as mine, straight hair and neatly trimmed beard set against pale skin, for the first time in my life I understood the darkness in my brother's eyes.
Maybe the worst monsters aren't the ones we create, maybe the worst monsters are just ourselves.
Pulling the drumstick sitting in front of me in deafening silence, I took a deep breath and returned the cup of coffee, I didn't bother with the open entrance door the footsteps of those entering were filling the small room between a sofa and the kitchen.
Stefano made a point of saying that she didn't deserve a big house, that her body would be deformed if she got pregnant, the small house that I learned to hate because it was a prison, the walls a ridiculous color of green, without having the slightest option of redecorating or any shit.
I lifted my head and watched quietly, feeling an incredible calm inside me.
Each look was loaded with a question that I couldn't answer until the hunger was over, and the worst of all, is that this hunger didn't stop the desire to rewind each moment like a movie feeling each sensation. dark eyes, I gave a small smile sensing the monster's desire to boast.
Face to face with my brother without any disappointment about the fate of the man who was my husband, he understood all the lines in the look, words were unnecessary and the sigh when he held my hand was his way of asking 'are you okay?' the rise of my smile joining his equal mine, couldn't give another answer.
Beatrice Costello
My brothers were there for me, the first to speak was always Hunter
"Need help with the cleanup?" - His look is careful, concerned.
The green eyes analyzing every exposed part of me made anger fill the chiseled face with square jaw and full mouth.
The decision I made will affect all of us in one way or another, and this is your way of showing your support.
“Just the garbage bag by the door.
He turned and walked to the door taking the bag out of the house, we all silently watched the movement back and forth. Until he was standing next to the workbench again as if waiting for an order or a request.
"Okay, what's the plan?" - Jack turned sideways sitting on the sofa now with his body turned towards us asking what was going through everyone's mind.
The dark hair in contrast to our blond ones, the well-shaped face, with full lips and perfect teeth, the slightly crooked nose and the usual sarcastic expression.
"We need a story," Hunter replied without taking his eyes off mine.
— We faked their deaths – Giacomo said and for the first time I looked at everyone there realizing that Bianca was missing.
- Why she did it? – I whispered without really wanting confirmation of my thoughts.
"Apparently Stefano wasn't the only one to disrespect an Italian wife," Jack roared. “I had to talk to her so that she could share her death with us, and I found her tied up like an animal in that apartment.
The tension in each of the three's bodies revealed more than words, yet I felt the need to confirm.
"What did you do Jack?" - I asked scared afraid that the plan was for the sewer.
"What could a brother do, seeing his own blood like that?" – He snorted – When Salvatore Riina arrived I spent a few hours having fun with him.
- You idiot, the soldiers could have seen you entering the building - The fear of losing my brother took over me.
Hunter laughed and waved me down, as if it was obvious he wasn't going to let Jack have all the fun for himself.
— I helped the idiot to forge the scene, in the end it will look like it was a coordinated attack so we need to act fast, in a few hours our phones started ringing informing us of Riina's death and Don will order to clean up the city looking for the traitor – He stopped with a sigh.
— We need to be home right now – Giacomo decrees — Don Sartori will probably notify me of Bianca's death personally, as a way of showing his appreciation.
Giacomo is one of Sartori's most trusted men, and he deserves the post. Always hardworking, loyal, being the executor of his Don, never disobeying a single order. The guilt for putting them in a position of betrayal hit my traitorous heart, they are the only family I have and among all possibilities, among all shit to know that we really are a true family, which my brothers never hesitated to follow a dazzling plan to free me and now free Bianca, only made my love and admiration grow.
That loyalty is ours alone, and I doubt anyone else within the Mafia is as loyal as we are to each other.
"I'm causing you to lose the honor of your names." I sighed, knowing this must be like torture for honorable men.
“Don't think about it Beatrice, defending my blood is the only honor I need. Your husband and Bianca's husband should honor them, I won't forgive myself for taking them to the altar and handing them over to these disgraced ones. - Giacomo spoke with a tone of regret.
— Besides, the family rule is clear, wives should not be treated that way and Don Sartori certainly knew about the actions of Riina and Stefano, his son and his nephew, the two trained by himself. Jack snorted.
— The rules are for everyone, we're just going to put the house in order, Cosa Nostra is only going to undergo a little cleaning – Hunter smiled darkly and there I understood.
They've been there for me through it all, through all our flaws and over every stupid sibling fight, which for some reason I was sure one of them would end up doing this, killing Stefano Sartori for me.
But she didn't need to be protected, not anymore.
— For all intents and purposes, Bianca died at dawn in an attack, along with her husband Salvatore Riina – Giacomo continued — The poison that Hunter obtained has a twenty-four-hour effect, it will feel like a cold body and that's the time we need to do it. the closed casket funeral.
— Enrico should show up here at any moment to announce Bianca's death, the hypothesis of a betrayal will be confirmed when his body is found and not Stefano since only we capos know the addresses of each member – Jack breathed — We need to kill the soldiers who are in security.
The door slammed and in the middle of the warm conversation, surprising us with the unexpected visitor, the soldier's short hair and always well-composed suit.
— No need, I've already done that - Frank's voice cut the silence, Hunter already had the gun pointed in his direction.
“Why would you do that? – Giacomo questioned the Sartori family soldier.
"Your sister knows why." He stared at me with green eyes.
I discovered his secret a few years ago, the first few days he seemed to expect me to tell Stefano until one of the few times we were alone in the car, I assured him that no one would know.
Apparently, that's his way of retribution.
— Beatrice has my loyalty, if you want to kill me, do it now, but know that you would be a good ally.
I considered the possibilities, I need help, protection and none of my brothers can do that, they won't be able to be available all the time, I don't have the slightest idea of what life is like outside this house or outside the mafia.
They need to show that they are looking for the sisters' killers.
“Hunter has enough poison for Frank too” My brother looked in my direction in exasperation “Frank will come with me.
"Do you trust him?" Jack looked suspicious.
— Yes, and he has no reason to stay, if Don Sartori finds him alive with the disappearance of his son he dies, if he betrays me I'll make sure his secret is discovered, that would lead to his death too – My brothers looked at each other for a few seconds , Hunter lowered the gun.
Frank watched, knowing my every word was a silent threat, just because I was pious once doesn't mean it would be a second, especially given the new life I intend to lead. I give you this chance as a vote of confidence for going to warn Giacomo of my captivity, something I've never had the courage to do in all these years.
I analyzed the whole scene set up by the house with the blood smeared on the hideous green carpet, I stretch out my hand making sure to leave the dirty fingerprints against the wallpaper remembering the nights next to the man I swore to love.
I sigh, turning my face away and finding my brother's fury just the incentive to finally make my voice heard. It's incredible how arrogance blinds men to the point of not realizing that a woman never loses her power, a woman doesn't lose the war, and when she wants to, she's capable of destroying everything.
That was Stefano's biggest mistake, not causing my death when he had the opportunity, having armed himself with arrogance and all the machismo, always putting me below himself, imagining my inability to reciprocate that perverse love, karma is a bitch treacherous and this turnaround was only possible thanks to his exacerbated egocentrism thinking he was indestructible. And my biggest mistake was thinking I was capable of love, I'm not, and I missed any opportunity to give birth to some feeling in here.
