1. Uno
๐ฉ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ถ๐ ๐ป๐๐ ๐ซ๐๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐ - ๐ด๐๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐ก๐ก๐๐ ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐
๐ด๐ก๐ก๐๐๐๐ก ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ค๐๐กโ ๐ฆ๐๐ข, ๐๐๐๐ฆ
๐๐ก๐๐๐ ๐๐๐โ๐ก ๐๐๐๐ค ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐ป๐๐๐๐ฆ
๐ฟ๐๐กโ๐ ๐๐ ๐ข๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ , ๐๐๐๐ก๐ก๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐ฆ
Screams!
I am familiar with them for as long as I can remember. As a kid, when Mamma used to call me her Piccolo, I would hear the screams at night sometimes. But they were quickly muffled like they had been a figment of my imagination. I had tried to discuss that with a few friends I was allowed to have at school, they only used to see a monster in their closet or the boogeyman under their bed, not me. I knew I was different from them, never knew how much until I had to face the bitter reality. When I was 10, my father took me with him. Showed me where the screams came from. I had suspected my father was hiding something. Turned out, he wasnโt into gardening, the greenhouse had an underground room, for torturing. That night, he took me there with him. I had a natural instinct to sense danger. So I didnโt cry there. But I lost my appetite and sleep for weeks. Only ate for my mammaโs sake and threw up every bite of it later.
When I began to punish, I had always tried to know why I was doing so. None of them were saints and a far cry from being a decent human being. My first victim was the man who sold his pregnant wife to my fatherโs enforcer Esposito, to clear his debt. Esposito took the offer, then brought him in so I could torture the man. During my first bust at enemy territory, I used Esposito as my human shield.
Soon, I began to enjoy torturing people. Now, their unrestrained shrills caress my ego. The dark soul inside me craves it like an addict. I donโt know why they do it. Do they feel I will cover my ears and run in the opposite direction? Perhaps not. Those who cross me are smarter than that. And arrogant enough to think they can actually fool me, kill me. Eventually, they pay with their lives. When I finally give them relief from the pain I had been inflicting- slowly and tortuously - with the final blow that ends their pathetic life.
Their scream means nothing to me. But todayโฆ it is different. Because today the screams are coming from the childrenโs mouths. The tiny humans whose baby teeth are yet to fall. My head spins in the opposite direction from them. I hiss quietly as I feel a muscle inside my ear tick.
They are screaming at the top of their lungs, crying. If I shoot over my head, to the open morning sky above me. Will they stop? My hand reached for the gun I had hidden under my suit jacket.
I, Gian Armani, underboss of the organized crime family Cosa Nostra, have never felt this incapacitated before. A single head tilt, one snap of my fingers, one look from my cold brown eyes and the world is on my feet, at my disposal.
So how do I take this situation in control and shut these monstersโ drool-smeared mouths? Wonโt be difficult. Many of these monsters probably still wet their bed at night. If I go now and stare at them. My eyes will be the thing that would haunt them in their nightmares for the rest of their life. My lips curl into a sadistic smile. That is rather interesting. Seeding the fear of Gian Armani in childrenโs heads from the beginning.
But I canโt make my presence known. So I wait and tap my foot in frustration. As I, with three of my most trusted men, stay behind the line of trees in the garden of Pumpkin Patch Kindergarten, waiting for Remoโs text, to block the CCTV footage. For an expert like him, It is taking the time. Another red flag.
โGian, shall I?โ I look over my shoulder, to my right-hand man, Soto. He is a giant man, built like a tank towering over my 6โ2 height. Two of my ripped men can easily hide behind him. Soto has a thick long beard and not a single hair over his head. He has a baby face that he covers with a beard. We saw him without the beard once, when the doctors had to shave it to stitch the gash marring over his cheek. Three of my best soldiers had died from his hands for making fun of him. But Soto is worth ten skilled soldiers.
I scoff in disbelief. He must have read the tension radiating off my body. The tiny monsters were supposed to be inside their classes, studying, reading, or whatever the fuck they are capable of doing. Instead, they are screaming their lungs out. I shake my head at Soto and chuckle. What the fuck am I thinking? They are just kids. They have a few more years before they start fucking up their life by shooting the best quality drugs we make in our underground labs.
Removing the hand hovering over my gun. I straighten my shoulder. The kidโs screaming stopped in one go, blanketing a sense of calmness. A second later, I heard their sing-song voice in unison say, โGood morning, Miss Honeyโฆ!โ
I tilt my head to take a quick look at the supposed Miss Honey, prepared to see an old lady with years of experience on leashing monsters, born somewhere around World War II.
All the air was knocked out of my lungs as I was stunned to see a young girl, probably in her early 20s smile at them. The most beautiful I have ever seen, looking at the midgets with love andโฆ kindness, probably. I am not used to seeing this emotion in people I deal with.
A tot with pooched out belly gave her a flower, with only a few petals still intact. Her plush rosy lips parted in astonishment. She tucked the flower behind her ear and wiggled her brows, a small gesture to ask how it look. Bellissima!
They giggled in response. It was surprising to see the throats screaming like animals, creating such a silvery bell-like laugh. Perhaps the magic is the enchanting brunette-haired beauty.
My phone buzzed from inside my suit jacket. Tearing my gaze from the heavenly beauty, I open the text. My blood boiled in anger, reminding me of the reason I am in a kindergarten in the first place.
*****
We walk down the empty halls toward the principalโs office. The slight squish of Sotoโs running shoes contradicted the calculated taps of our Italian shoes against the tiled floor. I knocked on Daryl Garciaโs office door. Without waiting for her response, I peeked my head inside and sneered at her with a saccharine smile on my face.
โMay I come in, madam?โ
Her green eyes became saucer-like wide. She was reaching for something from her desk drawer, probably a gun. We barged in before she could open the drawer. Her eyes brimmed with tears as Emiliano placed his heavy-muscled arms on her shoulder. Remo stood behind me, and Lorenzo remained in the corridors on a call with Remo. Her lips trembled as she shook her head, to deny everything.
โWhy are you so scared?โ I ask nonchalantly. Flopping on a chair, eyeing the happy decoration in her office.
โI-I am not.โ She stuttered, a sheen coat of sweat already doting on her face.
โSo you always shake like a fucking leaf when somebody comes to your office for admission, yes?โ I ask casually.
She relaxed for a moment. โYou are here for an admission.โ She asked, perplexed.
โYesโฆโ I prop my elbow on the desk. โEmiliano here probably has 10 kids he doesnโt know of.โ I chuckled, jutting my chin at him. As his face remained a cold mask. His deep blue eyes showed no emotions.
Garcia swallowed audibly and straightened her shoulders, looking at Emilianoโs hand over it. She cleared her throat and said, โI am sorry, Mr. Armani. But Iโm going to have to ask you to leave.โ
Ignoring the quiver in her voice, I nodded in understanding. Swirling the paperweight on the table with my fingers, I ask โI will. After you tell me about the kid in the last video you uploaded and the ones before.โ Then I lean closer to her and snarl. โOr the man behind the mask who was raping her?โ
A shudder zapped through her body, but she quickly recovered. โW-what video. What are you t-talking ab-โ She couldnโt even complete the sentence as I shoved the paperweight inside her mouth. I heard a satisfied sound of her jawbone crack. Her eyes almost bugged out, she tried to claw my face but Emiliano held her wrists. Her body arched, as she desperately struggled to heave out the paperweight.
I kept my forearm over her collarbones, pressing her back to the chair. The woman is in her late 40s, she might die If I prolong it. I ran a finger over the hollow of her cheek, which was sucked inwards from the suction. โNow, when I remove the paperweight. You will answer everything I ask and donโt even think about screaming. It will only worsen your final moments. Itโs up to you If you wanna live or not. Do we agree, madam?โ I whisper darkly and raise my brow.
She tried to nod despite the restraint. I pulled back as Emiliano released her hand. She removed the paperweight with a pop, her teeth got chipped. She heaved, her eyes turned a deep red. She reached for the glass of water, but Emiliano threw it on the floor.
My patience was running out. I placed my gun on the table and relaxed, twirling a pen between my fingers. To engage my hand with something. If it were a man, I would have already been dragging him across the hallway in broad daylight. But hurting a woman wreaks havoc, the spectators become the judge, jury and executioner. Instead of helping, they begin to take videos. I am a mafia royalty and I know when to pull my rank.
โI donโt know anythingโฆโ I didnโt move my gaze up to look at her, just enjoyed the crack of skin contacting skin echo off the walls. Emiliano slapped her. He wanted to go for more. But I caged him with a look. With a curt nod, he crossed his arms behind him. I scoff. Emiliano is a misogynist. He was tortured by his meth-addict mother for 12 years. Until he ran from his house and fell into Cosa Nostraโs web at 13. He is specially called whenever an excuse of a woman is needed to be punished.
โI am going to ask this one last time. I need the names of all the children you brutalize for the child porn. Where are you keeping them, and the names of the men and women who hide behind the mask.โ I say in an authoritative tone.
Of all the sins I have committed without losing my sleep at night. This is something I canโt stomach. Neither could my ancestors. They were royal assholes, with their own sets of morals. We treat women with respect. A minor is not to be touched, under any circumstances. Until this new group thought they could film and upload videos on the darknet under my rule. In my city.
โI donโt know their names.โ She whimpered, nursing her jaw. Her voice had turned gruff and raspy.
โAnd the kids? Are they from this school?โ I snarl, crushing the pen under my hold in anger.
She shook her head vehemently. โNoโฆ no. These kids come from good homes.โ I attached the silencer to my gun. It doesnโt muffle the noise as much as people think. โNo, please. I donโt have anything to do with this. I get the video in the hood of my car. I only upload them.โ But it does the job.
โI was given a password to the darknet and the other procedure to hide my IP address and the location.โ She stuttered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice had become worse.
Remo had told me there were some mistakes in the coding. Those mistakes gave it out a month ago. Since then, he has been on their trail. Trying to find the link between a kindergarten principal and the cartel pulling the strings. Today, another video was uploaded. They were up to something. They knew their game was in danger and I love the thrill. So I decided to give her a visit.
โYou surely didnโt do it for free or under duress.โ I drawl, toying with the gun. She didnโt answer, her eyes following the trail of the gun. Emiliano slapped her again, as she was wasting my time with her stuttering and wheezing. Garcia winced and nursed her bruised cheek. Looking at me with hope, like I should be more gentle to her.
โMy husband and I used to run a whorehouse five years ago. When the police raided the premises, our names didnโt come forward. Two years later, my husband died of cancer. And a few months after his death, I received a letter that I had been accepted for the principalโs post here. But I never applied in the first place.โ She said and cupped her cheek, expecting another blow from Emiliano. She was telling the truth. I knew it. So, I didnโt threaten her further. She can call whoever she wants for help, even the police.
I jumped to my feet and buttoned up my suit jacket. Garcia blanched. I lowered my body towards her and gave a sinister smile.
โYou know, I usually donโt get much time with child fuckers. I go straight for my knives and peel their skin off. Because I donโt want to know what goes behind their fucked mind when they do it. So this is new to me. Tell me..โ I shrug my shoulders, moving in closer I rumble. โIs it fun to watch a young girl get beaten by men thrice her age? Do you enjoy it? Get off on it?โ I ask darkly.
Her eyes flared like I had offended her. โI donโt enjoy watching young boys.โ She said sharply.
My lips curl up in an evil grin, โBoysโฆโ All the colour drained off her face as she realized what she had given in. I exchange a look with Emiliano. He will enjoy torturing her when her time is up.
I straighten my jacket and leave without any further threats. She knows nothing more. She is disposable. A mere pawn, who would never make it far enough to become a Queen.
