"So. Tell me. What video were they talking about?"
I sigh. "The day before yesterday, I saw Drax forcing himself on Fred against the wall of building number four. I posted it on my fan page, but the platform blocked it pretty fast. It still spread a bit, around five hundred shares. Some people saw it. Maybe someone tipped off the oversight board, because Beta Activation posted a statement on their site denying the whole thing."
Salt stares at me.
"Wow. You really went all in on this, Eliano. Do you care so much about… these people?"
There’s something almost probing in his voice. He bites his lip, then lifts his hand to his mouth and chews on his fingers. I know immediately he’s wrestling with something.
"Well. My brother Rocco, the current capo, weaponized rape. It was his… signature mark. And I don’t accept barbaric methods like that. No matter how," I make air quotes with my fingers, "medically useful stimulating betas with that monster’s hormones might be."
Salt’s eyes fix on me with a strange intensity, and something like hope? He says nothing, he just keeps rubbing his chin as if deep in thought.
???
Being locked in, we of course can’t attend the photo classes. In any case, neither of us is in the mood to pretend the island is some blissful, postcard-perfect place where we can just go carefree for cute shots on the picturesque coastal rocks.
When I open my laptop to check the number of comments under my latest post, one username among the ones who liked it immediately catches my attention.
SantoroMalidittu.
I recognize it at once. It’s a handle my brother Mauro used occasionally when commenting on social media. Santoro was our dad’s last name before marriage. His family came from Sicily but had nothing to do with the mafia, they owned several large sawmills in North Carolina.Malidittumeans cursed in Sicilian. Mauro used to call himself that sometimes.
I notice the online icon is active, so on impulse I message him.
"Hey… how are you holding up?"
I stare at the screen for a moment. I’ve often wondered how Mauro’s life unfolded in the days after our escape. I know he’s calculated, always prepared. He must have figured something out. Maybe this is my chance to get an update.
The typing dots move.
"I’m okay. Stable. And you?"
"I’ve had some pretty crazy situations. But right now things are relatively stable too."
I pause, thinking about what to write next. Mauro is always cautious about sharing information online. My blog has never been hacked, thanks to the security set up by a hacker friend of mine, but I don’t know how much Mauro trusts that.
"So… I’ve got a burner. This is the number. It’s safe."
I type the number, then delete the message almost immediately.
There’s a short silence.
My brother is mute. When he makes phone calls, he uses an app that converts typed text into speech. A moment later, my phone rings.
Salt jumps at the unfamiliar sound.
"It’s nothing, nothing. My brother," I reassure him.
Salt stares at me in surprise but doesn’t comment as I step out of the living room and close myself in the bathroom.
"Hey, Mauro."
A mechanical voice from the app responds in my ear.
"Hey, Eliano. I’m glad you’re alive. You disappeared so fast, with nothing on you. I kept wondering how you were managing."
I hesitate for a moment.
