The DON Herself

Silence Not the peaceful kind. The wrong kind. Heavy. Thick. Suffocating. The kind that makes your skin crawl before you even understand what is happening. Sanita stood at the entrance of the mansion with the melting ice cream in her hands. The vanilla flavor filled the air, but it was so out of place that it almost felt like a joke. Something was seriously wrong. She decided to say a name she knew would definitely answer her, no matter what. “Papa?” she yelled. Silence. It was the first warning. Then that smell, metallic, sharp, and so familiar. Blood. The melted ice cream instantly fell out of her hands. She hurried inside the mansion and stopped. Trying to see if any noise is coming from any corner of the four walls. But none, just the blood scent And she ran towards the sitting room, and her world stopped. Bodies. Two guards lay near the entrance of the sitting rooms, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. The other guards, who needed to be at the entrance of the mansion, were lying lifeless near one body. One person she never thought would die from bullets everywhere on his body. Her Father. The most feared man in the Russian underworld. The man no one dared to touch. Lying still. Unmoving. Dead. “No!” She shouted and closed her eyes, praying that this was only a dream. Her legs moved before her mind could stop them. She dropped to her knees, her dearest father, hands trembling as they hovered over his body, too scared to touch and too desperate not to. “Papa?” She called out, questioning whether he could hear. But nothing. No life was initiated. Her chest tightened as something inside her shattered completely. This wasn’t real, this is not normal. “Who did this??” She questioned in a low voice. Footsteps approached behind her. She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. Her uncle’s voice came, low and tense. “There was no warning,” he said. “No struggle. It was clean and professional.” Her fingers curled into her father’s shirt, gripping it tightly as if she could pull him back to life. “Say the name!” she demanded, her voice suddenly cold. A pause. “… The Italian Don?” The words dropped like a bullet. Silence followed; she didn’t even question why her uncle answered it as if he wasn’t sure, but for her, it was them. Russians have never liked the Italians, and the Italians are one of their big enemies. The Italians had killed one of her loved ones again, destroying her family again, but she’s no longer the small child she was before. Inside her, the grief didn’t disappear. It was twisted. Hardened. Became something else. Her eyes were once soft and full of life. Turned empty and dangerous “They crossed into our territory?” she said quietly, questioning. No one responded. “They killed him?” Still nothing. A slow, terrifying calm settled over her. “Then, vengeance is coming, and it will break. They will not see it coming AT ALL.” She stood up. And at that same moment, Sanita was gone. The daughter who laughed even when her dad wasn’t soft on her, a girl who craved ice cream at midnight as if it were a pregnancy craving, and who was always positive. But now she is gone. She stood up, turned, and somebody came rushing up to her, crying. She embraced him and said, “Brother, I will REVENGE Papa, they are not even ready.” Silence as she looked into nothing. “I will Burn Them….DOWN!” She detached herself from her brother and looked at him, wiped his tears, and said, “We will bury him tonight. No need for ceremony,” she said, and started “But Dad is a Don…. He needs a ceremony,” Tessa said while sobbing. She turned and looked at her brother and uncle. “Well, he’s no more the Don, I am. And what I say stands,” she stared at them again. “We can have a private ceremony with them. I guess we are the only ones who loved him anyway,” she said and left. Preparing for the way she will make the Italian beg for forgiveness until there’s no mercy to beg for, because this time, she’s not letting go. Someone must perish, and it certainly will not be HER.