Mafia's Mistake

The heavy rain pelts against the tinted windows as my car pushes through the night. Another f*****g night alone with my thoughts. I reach inside my jacket and pull out the worn photograph, the one I can’t seem to let go of no matter how much it tortures me even though it was a beautiful pain There she is – my beautiful Sophia. Her smile could light up the darkest room. Those eyes which were full of life and warmth, used to be my whole world. I run my thumb over her face, trying to reconnect with the woman I lost. The love of my goddamn life. My gut twists as I linger on the stain in the corner. Even after all these years, I can still see it like it was yesterday. Her precious blood, seeping out from that bullet hole in her head, it was like my life was dripping out. A hole put there by Patrice Marino’s piece of s**t soldier. Over a few measly grand in a disputed collection. As if money even f*****g matters to an animal like Marino. He got a kick out of it – taking the one thing that gave me peace in this miserable world. Sophia was my light, the only respite from this pit of darkness and violence I was constantly surrounded by. And that sadistic prick snuffed her out like she was nothing. I pull the photo closer, pressing it to my face as the memories wash over me. Her laugh, that sweet smile, the way she would tease me about working too much, the scent of gardenias always in her hair. What I wouldn’t give to have her back in my arms one more time. A rumble of anguish rises from my chest. I want to destroy this f*****g photograph, erase the past, and the constant torture it brings. But I can’t. It’s all I have left of her warmth, her beauty. So I’m condemned to carry it with me until the day I die, forcing myself to live in the same nightmare over and over. My fist clenches hard around the picture as my insides churn with rage and emptiness. For years, a void has been eating away at my soul. Where Sophia’s love once resides, there is nothing but black hatred and the thirst for revenge. I slam the photo back into my pocket and blink back the dampness forming in my eyes. Weakness is a luxury I can’t afford. Not until I get my vengeance on that piece of garbage Marino and make him beg for the same mercy he refused my Sophia. As the car motors on through the rain-soaked streets, my face resets into an emotionless mask, just like every other night. The vault around my heart has been relocked, the anger quarantined but bubbling stronger than ever. The emptiness isn’t ever going away. But I don’t need warmth and light anymore. I’ll fill the void with the only thing I have left – destroying anyone who tries to stop me from burying Marino and making him realize there are worse things than death. This I vow. Vengeance is all I have to live for now. The car rolls to a stop in front of my sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city. I throw open the door and storm inside, ripping off my tie as I walk. My men scatter like cockroaches as I stalk down the marble hallway toward the study. They know better than to get in my way or show any sign of weakness when I’m in one of these moods. Frankly, most of them are just happy I’m not putting a bullet between their eyes on any given day. I slam the study door behind me, finally able to breathe again away from prying eyes and ears. Over to the drink cart to pour myself a generous couple of fingers of scotch. The amber liquid burns its way down my throat. Good, I need to feel something other than this goddamn emptiness. My eyes drift to the pictures adorning the shelves. Reminders of the legacy I’ve built through decades of bloodshed, sacrificing every shred of my humanity along the way. The different faces of territory conquered, rivals crushed underfoot. Smiling photos with the same men who now fear me. Then I see it – the one photo I can’t bear to remove, no matter how much agony it brings. A happier time before the Russo name became a byword for cruelty and death. When I had Sophia by my side, deliriously in love and without a care in the world. I down the rest of my scotch, trying to drown out her beaming face. The life I destroyed when I willingly climbed into this pit of violence and greed. By the time Marino decided to take his cowardly revenge, she was simply collateral damage. With a sweeping motion, I send the framed pictures crashing across the room. The sound of shattering glass manages to drown out my roar of anguish, if only briefly. I snatch up the photo of Sophia and stumble back against the desk, clutching it to my chest. “I’m so sorry,” I rasp into the empty room. “Oh, God…I’m so sorry.” Of course, there is no response. Only the same deafening silence that has become my pitiful companion through these long, sleepless nights. Just me and the ghost of the only good thing I ever had. The love I betrayed and lost forever. With a weary sigh, I set the photo aside and tore open my desk drawer, yanking out a fresh bottle of scotch. As the first burning slug hits my throat, I vow that one day soon I will have my revenge. I don’t care what I have to sacrifice or how many lives it costs – Marino will know the same bone-deep anguish he inflicted on me. Even if I have to burn this entire city to the ground, I will make that sniveling bastard understand what it feels like to have your heart ripped from your chest. Maybe then this hollow cavern where my soul used to be will finally have something to grasp onto. So I drink and I plot, tireless and machine-like. Because in the end, vengeance is my only remaining salvation from an eternity of emptiness. All I have left is the promise of Marino’s suffering to keep me company through these agonizing nights. And I intend to keep that promise – or die trying.