When I look at Luciano again I’m vaguely aware that his eyes are not his own. It’s as if a thin film has slid over his irises.
I can barely see for the red haze that fills my own vision. “That’s it?”
Luciano nods wrathfully. “The police want us to press charges. And we will, but it’s a formality. Because as soon as he’s released from the hospital we’re going to rip out his intestines and feed them to his dog. What’s left of him won’t live very long after that.”
“Take photos,” I tell him with barely restrained rage of my own. “And videos. I want to see everything.” I’m not going to tell him to wait for me, considering I can’t even sit up. I want the other driver to pay as soon as possible.
“I will,” Luciano promises.
My other brothers arrive with Rosa and they try to comfort me, but I’m hardly aware of their presence. Darkness flows through me. I want to kill all the hospital staff for letting Matteo die. In fact, I want to kill everyone in the city. And in all of Italy. I blame them.Them!If there were no people, there would be no cars. And if there were no cars, Matteo would still be alive.
And through it all, a part of me can’t help but think, maybe it’s better this way.
Matteo escaped the darkness.
Meanwhile, I’m losing to it. Losing badly.
And there is no escape for me.
* * *
I lay backin the hospital bed, watching the video that Luciano is showing me on his phone. Stefano and Roberto sit behind him with their arms crossed, haunted, angry looks on their faces. The volume is low, but I can hear the man whimpering and begging for his life.
I feel nothing as I watch the video. The emptiness inside me can’t be filled by the death of the man who killed my brother. It’s true what they say, that revenge won’t bring back the dead. But it was necessary nonetheless. The man owned us a debt that had to be repaid in blood.
When Luciano closes the phone, he sits down next to Stefano and Roberto. I can see the anger lingering in all their eyes. Killing that guy wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.
“We should kill his wife, too,” Stefano says.
I press my lips together. They’re waiting for my approval, but I can’t give it. They have to make their own choice in this matter.
“Enrico participated, too?” I ask.
Luciano nods. “We all did. Except Rosa. She doesn’t know.”
Good. I don’t want her to know.
I run my gaze across them, lingering on Roberto. While I see anger in his eyes, I also see pain. Too much pain.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“First the jockey, now this…” I tell him.
“Yeah, except this fucker deserved everything he got,” Roberto says. “Listen, I don’t want you worrying about me. Worry about you. Concentrate on healing.”
“And I don’t wantyouspending nights alone on the beach drinking wine and bawling your eyes out,” I tell him. “If you want to drink and cry, do it here.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Do it here,” I repeat.
“All right all right,” he says. “If I drink, it’ll be here. Fuck the hospital rules.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” I glance at Luciano. “How was the funeral?”
The anger fades somewhat from his eyes, which become distant. “It was what it was.”
