Twenty years of training. Twenty years of control. Twenty years of hiding everything I feel behind a mask of stone.
It serves me now.
Marina squeezes my hand.
I squeeze back.
She thinks I'm grieving. She thinks I'm struggling with loss. She thinks the tension in my body comes from watching my brother lowered into the ground.
She's wrong.
I close my eyes.
Just for a second. Just long enough to breathe.
When I open them, the priest is finishing. The final prayers. The final blessings. The final goodbye.
Men step forward. Lower the casket into the ground.
Sophia screams.
The sound rips through the cemetery. Through the crowd. Through me.
Giulia holds her back. Aria wraps her arms around her. They keep her from throwing herself into the grave.
I watch.
I don't move.
I don't help.
I stand here. Holding Marina's hand. Wearing my mask. Playing my part.
The casket disappears into the earth.
Dirt follows. Handfuls thrown by family members. By friends. By people who loved Lorenzo and will never know the truth.
Marina releases my hand. Steps forward. Takes her turn.
I don't move.
I can't throw dirt on his grave.
The service ends.
People begin to disperse. Quiet conversations. Hushed condolences. The slow shuffle of grief moving away from the grave.
I wait.
I watch.
I count the minutes until I can leave this place.
Until I can breathe again.
Marina
The compound doors close behind us.
