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With that, my father’s face changes. It lightens up and he beams with a bright smile. “And this is all I ever wanted to see,” he states joyfully, and I’m sickened. He ignored everything before and only heard the bit he wanted to – that I’m fearless to hurt people now.

I’m broken and I see no way back to a hopeful future anymore. I used to spend nights wondering how I’d die and, with Zane, it was always the same way – old, grey, and still madly in love. However, now, I’m riddled with bullets from whenever the police storm the house or because a hit goes wrong. I meet an untimely end and it’s neither glorious nor glamorous. It’s fitting and warranted.

“Well, I’m glad I could do one thing right,” I comment, snarkily. But I have better aim now so I’ve upped my killing skills.”

“You think I’ll allow you to have a gun now?” my father scoffs in my face, chortling at the same time. “Bambina, I won’t ever trust you with a firearm around me again. Had I not had my own to shoot your brother in the arm and scare you enough to distract your already poor aim, I might well be six feet under.”

“What a shame that would have been,” I ponder and decide to leave the back porch to find some liquor in the house.

I walk through the bright, airy kitchen, bypass the main sitting room, and head straight for the meeting room. All the white in the room radiates with the sun that streams through the large windows and the pureness of it sickens me further. I race to the liquor cabinet, throw the door open, and grab the crystal bottle and a tumbler. I set the glass down with a thud and quickly pour myself a drink. I down it the moment the glass is full and savor the burn igniting down my throat and hitting my chest. The pain is pleasurable and becomes a friend to help with all my other self-inflicted ailments. Alcohol makes me forget, helps soothe the sting of my actions, and helps me to pass the time.

“You’re a miscreant in the Dio Lavoro. Going to the Amalfi Coast should have been the one thing that straightened you out.” My father had apparently followed me just to scold me some more. I shouldn’t act surprised, but apparently, I had half hoped for a warmer homecoming. More fool me, right? “I expected you to come back straightened out, ready to please with no more talking back.

“Sadly, you must have me mistaken for someone who really wants to give this life a try,” I state, steadying myself against the cabinet as I mentally count to ten to keep myself calm. I turn around, emblazoned, heart racing, and ready to tear my father a new one. “I’m only here because without you and without my brothers, I have no one. You made sure we were isolated enough to not have friends outside of the
Italian corporation
you so pride yourself on. I’m not here to play nice, and I’m not here to be the daughter you can be proud of.” I give a small smile. It’s not one of adoration or pleasure. It’s a wicked little grin to show that I am no longer here to play happy family. I’m here to do what I have to. “I’m here to survive,
Sal
.”

And like that, the devil comes to life, full of fire and grit and ready to spit every piece of profanity at me. I don’t even cower. It worries me that I don’t feel a thing, but in the same sense, I love that I can keep myself composed before my father. I want him to see every part of the monster I’ve become.

“What are you going to do?” I ask him, taking a few calculated steps toward him. “Disown your most powerful asset?” I question further and begin to smirk. I feel a bubble of laughter begin to crawl from me, and I begin to laugh, albeit a little manically. “See, I know what each of us is worth to you, and I know how much it will take for us to be out.”

“What happened to you?”

“You happened to me,” I reply. I don’t care how cold that sounds; he’s just receiving some truth. “Now, we have a guest who needs settling in.”

My father grabs me as I turn to leave. “He isn’t staying here,” my father states plainly. He’s barely said hello to me, just argued, and he’s already treating Lorenzo as if he’s a stray animal I found in the streets. “Alberto will be glad to have him back without you as a constant distraction.”

“Lorenzo leaves when he wants to,” I admonish his order and rip my hand away. “It’s about time I had a little fun.”

“We’ll see about that, Bambina,” my father shouts at me as I continue to walk away. I hear him hit the closest hair as I flick my hand at him in a nonchalant way. He realizes that I just don’t care.

I walk back and find the boys all in the kitchen apart from Giovanni. They’re all looking well acquainted and, I have to admit, Lorenzo slots into the family well. I just hope he doesn’t see this because otherwise he’ll be here for life. No one says a thing, and I feel unnerved.

“What are we talking about?” I ask, trying to remain bubbly. I’m almost like my own version of Jekyll and Hyde – I switch between personas depending on who I’m dealing with.

“Lorenzo was just asking about Bruno,” Carlo comments. His voice tells me that they’re having a hard time explaining that he left us a while ago.

“Touchy subject,” I comment and head for the fridge. I find a case of beer and take one for myself and one for Lorenzo. I throw him his and take a seat at the breakfast bar. “He’s living the good life,” I say. I twist open my bottle of beer and take a long gulp. It doesn’t have the same effect as the hard liquor, but I’ll ration myself with this better.

As Enzo agrees and the conversation restarts, I find I go quietly as they all talk among themselves and I’m left to revel in all the emotions I had been denied time to sort through. I just have  to remember to put one foot in front of the other and keep going forward because if I stop, I’m worried my errors will catch up with me.

The day I pointed a loaded gun at my father was the start of my ultimate demise. For all intents and purposes, I did die that day. It wasn't marked by my physical death. That fateful day wasn't the day I took my last breath. It wasn't my day to meet my maker. It was the day I died and came back a heartless woman. After all, if I didn’t put my heart into something, then I didn’t run the risk of getting hurt when it all went wrong or I lost out.

No, that day was the first day before my life only got worse. That was the start of my puppeteer life. My every move is orchestrated by the Dio de Sangue himself. My every move was recorded and reported back. I knew the Dio Lavoro would never let me go, so it was either be the criminal among villains or put the fear of Christ in them all. The latter sounded far more fun, so I became what they all ever want from their younger generations – callous, cold-blooded, and cruel.

I spent days pretending to love killing and lending a helping hand when it came to setting up meetings and seducing clients for Alberto, but by the time the sun set, I was covered in filth and so much dirt that I’ve not been clean since. As the time passed and all hope began to dwindle, I just entered a twilight zone. I did what I had to do to pass the day. I never thought much, I never interacted much, and I just got on with it.

However, at night was when I struggled. My demons were far worse than I had ever thought they could be. They would rock me from my sleep, torture me every time I drifted off, and ultimately, they stole more of me than my actions I had.

This was the decimation of Amelia Abbiati and there will be no end to the punishment. This is life in purgatory – world of the forever damned.

“Bella,” Lorenzo says, breaking my trance. I look to see him standing before me. He captures my face delicately and forces me to look into his piercing, olive eyes. “You’ve gone quiet.”

“It’s nothing,” I lie and smile.

“It’s far from nothing,” he states and gives me a small smile. “You can talk to me.”

“I know,” I say and for a moment forget myself. I push into his gentle touch and relish a piece of comfort being presented to me.

Manuel clears his voice, bringing me back to the room with a thud. “So, you two seem cozy,” Manuel speaks up, looking back and forth between Lorenzo and me. “Want to spill?”

“It just happened,” I say, and I can feel the blush hit my cheeks before I even have the chance stop it.

But it is the truth, we did just happen. It wasn’t forced; it wasn’t even love at first sight. Yes, I was attracted to him, but only because he was a ghost from my past. It took time and a lot of resilience to finally just cave to the carnal feelings he built in me, and what shocked me most was it took violence to unleash it all.

I fell for Lorenzo a little when one of Alberto’s men tried to hurt me. He protected me and took me home to Alberto after beating the man to a pulp. I had apparently conned Alberto’s associate out of a few grand of drugs. He slapped me around before Lorenzo could make it to my side, but when he did, I couldn’t stop the frenzy of attacks that were unleashed. I had no idea he was quite so brutal, but what else could I expect? He was Alberto Abbiati’s sidekick, he had to be without morals as it was, but seeing someone hit me made him feral.

It was that night as he cleaned me up that we first kissed. For the time before I had been enamored of him, but that was a matter of who he looked like. That night, I started an affair with him I knew I couldn’t finish, but only because he made me feel safe in a place that will never be deemed that. He offered me love when I had none around me, nor did I have any to give.

“Your sister,” Lorenzo starts off, giving me a chaste look before looking at my brothers, “she is a very special lady. She shouldn’t have to be forced to do the things she has.” He reaches for my hand, taking it and lacing long, slender tanned fingers with mine. “I only save her from so much.”

“You did a great job,” I say, weakly trying to let him know he had no part in forcing me to be a bitch.

“Not good enough,” he whispers to me, and I see the doleful note to his bright green eyes. “A woman so beautiful should only be loved. Never harmed. I intend to make you see that. I love you, Amelia, let me show you just what I will do.”

My eyes water as he pledges a promise of something I cannot take. I have to go for air. I cannot tolerate the amount of love he has for more when I feel nothing but lustful greed to get a quick fuck and a beating heart. I think, of all my actions, this is my worst.  I’m toying with a man’s heart like I never had. I know how fragile my own is, so why is it okay to play with Lorenzo’s and think he’ll be just fine? It’s not okay, and I’m even more of a beast for assuming so.

The air outside is like a cold bucket of water and I unravel. I mutter in broken Italian under my breath as I walk across the veranda away from the doorway to the kitchen, and I feel like I’m falling apart. I can be mean to my father and not care, but Lorenzo makes me feel;, he makes me feel like I should be a better person. Maybe that’s the only reason I didn’t stop him from coming with me. I needed him for verification that I could still feel something other than unbridled hatred to the world.

“Hey,” Enzo’s soothing voice travels toward me. “What’s got you bolting away?”

“Everything,” I admit feebly, and I rub the back of my hand over my face to rid the tears. “There is no going back from this now, Enzo. There’s no way to save me. This is me set for life now, you know that, right?”

“It’s not,” he states, and even as I nod, he sticks to his word. “There is going to be something that will give you some sort of faith back.” He offers me such a sincere look, and I wish that was enough to move on from the pessimism I live with. “I don’t know when, but it will.”

“I’m too far gone to be saved,” I murmur as shame fills me up, drowning me. “I don’t even deserve it, Enzo. What I’ve done...” I don’t finish, just shake my head in dismay, and feel that disappointment in myself take over. It wraps itself around me, and I feel like I’m suffocating within its tight squeeze. “It makes me more like Giovanni than anything. I don’t want to be like him.”

“A monster wouldn’t be sorry,” Enzo says, and I look at him. “Monsters don’t feel, don’t care, and don’t repent.”

His words trigger a spell of nostalgia. Zane reminded once that I was never the monster I thought I was. He believed in me, fought for my own self-worth, and built me up – only to tear me down. After all, the day Zane broke my heart and ended round two was the day I ceased to properly exist. But I never lost the belief that somewhere within me was a beacon of hope. A prospect of salvation. A likelihood of rescue. Now, I struggle even to smile. What hope do I have to dream of a better outlook?

“You are not a monster,” he states again, this time with ample conviction lacing his every word.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” I defy him, dropping my gaze. “I am not the same sister that left.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be her.” He grants me the chance to be damaged without a second glance of regret. Enzo accepts that I will have changed, that I’m not the girl I was, but he looks at me with a heated demeanor. I feel a swirl of serenity come to live within me as I look back up. Enzo isn’t giving up on me and I see that all over his face. “I wish I had saved you. I wished we could have done more to find you, but Papà made sure you were nowhere to be found when really you were right under our noses. Amelia, I would have been there in a heartbeat, but the one time we got there, you weren’t around and nor was anything that would tie you to our Amalfi Coast home.”

“You came for me?” I ask, trying not to sound so horrified.

“Of course we did,” Enzo says, placing his arms around me to draw me in a hug. “Amelia, we have been at was with Papà and Giovanni to get you back with us. Our family isn’t complete without you.”