the cries
Mafia Puppet
FRANCESCA
EVERYONE'S EYES ARE on me. The men flash quick grins before returning to their business. My husband, meanwhile, lights another cigarette.
He's probably going to die of cancer, but I doubt it. The good ones always seem to go first, and my husband is far from good. He's going to live.
I quickly close my mouth and pull back from the front window, where everything is playing out like a movie. It's gruesome, and I can't understand how anyone could find joy in this.
They're all crazy, and the craziest one is my husband.
âDonna,â the driver says. I don't look at him. I just stare at my lap so I don't have to see them. âI think you should look at this.â
Just as he finishes speaking, a scream rips through the air and I reflexively look up.
One of the worst mistakes of my life.
Flames are eating away at the guardâs skin as he flails around, trying to find relief, but there's none to be found. The fire is consuming him whole as the men he once called friends sneer at him.
The man stands up and runs around but everyone moves away, no one helping him. I go pale and I want to go help him but my body is frozen. They're burning him to death.
I suddenly remember the oaths and the words that were said by made men. âAs burns this saint, so will burn my soul. I shall enter alive and leave as dead.â
When the needle is pricked on the manâs trigger finger and he is turned from being just him to one of us, the man is warned about breaking the oaths.
A portrait of a saint is burned to join the men together. This made man had touched me without the will of the man who owned me.
He had broken the oath. The punishment wouldâve been less severe if he had done it to someone else. However, the Don was never merciful, and he needed to set an example.
Do not touch another brotherâs woman, just like the oaths say, or bear the consequences.
I look away as bile rises in my throat. The driver snickers at my reaction but I pay him no mind.
I donât even look when I hear the screaming stop as he, too, falls off the bridge, committing suicide because he can't bear the pain.
I donât dare look away from my hands that I quickly slam on my face. I donât care what people think of me right now. I donât care if my husband will beat me later, but I canât help it.
My body shakes as I cry. I'm glad the windows are tinted, but the driver is there. He purposely showed me this. I canât protect anyone. Not Jasmine and not my sister.
My husband burned the man and forced him to commit suicide because the pain was unbearable. Yes, the man had touched me. Yes, the man was a bastard and a bloody criminal, but he didnât deserve to burn, did he?
Antonio isnât the one who makes or changes the rules. He's just the one who enforces them. He may be the Don, but even he doesn't hold that much power to change things.
One can change rules, not the mindset of people. All he can do is make it a little better.
The car door opens and I gag at the burning stench that comes with Antonio. He merely glances at me before we start moving again.
The driver reverses the car and I catch sight of the men cleaning up the mess and picking up any proof they left.
I just want to go home and take a shower again. Everything is so gruesome and filled with terror. I know I'm going to have nightmares for months.
First, I witnessed myself in an accident that should have killed me, and today I had to witness the prostitution ring as well as heart-wrenching murders.
I donât know whether to be sad for Jasmine, my former classmate, or to worry about the children and women.
I want to ask Antonio why he killed her. I want to know what the point was in showing me all this. Was it to tell me that snitching wasnât tolerable and escaping wasnât an option?
No, how could he know about Ariannaâs plan? That isnât possible.
Women who wished to see a future or make their own identity were killed, usually with acid. I donât want that future for Arianna.
It would be a painful and gruesome death, but I also donât know how to tell my husband without him punishing her. I can only hope Arianna wonât do anything stupid. There's no way out.
I canât die without ruining my familyâs life, and I canât live in peace either. At least I can try to get used to it. But everything has a limit!
And I didnât ask my life to show me a murder this vile. I want to get out.
God, I'm so torn.
Would Sophia help me if I told her the truth? Her father is an FBI agent.
As we speed across the bridge on the way to the mansion, I chide myself for being so stupid and even thinking of escaping. But what if I have no choice?
I'm silent all the way. Even when we go inside, I donât even ask him if he needs anything or if he wants me to wait for him. I just go up to our room and walk into the bathroom.
I feel utterly dirty and used for someoneâs sick enjoyment. Whether it's my husband or the men around me, they're all heartless and sick. I canât expect anything more from the women either.
Rather than keeping their men in check, they fight with other women.
The shower is cold, but I canât bring myself to care. With cold tears sliding down my cheeks, I break down. Sobs rack my body as I slide down the cold tiles of the shower wall.
It doesnât matter if someone sees me. All that matters is that I witnessed two gruesome murders that I will never be able to get out of my mind.
They will haunt me forever and bring me even more night terrors. Covering my face with my hands, I cry. My body shakes uncontrollably as I break down into pieces.
I donât know what to do. Talking to anyone is forbidden. Telling someone my feelings would get them hurt. Bottling it all up would make me selfish and attempt self-harm.
I scream into my fist. I donât understand what to do. I donât know how to live without this constant fear.
Living like this is a nightmare. Back at Fatherâs house, he never dragged me into his world. Sex trafficking, drugs, murders, and more were all part of a life I never signed up for.
I feel like Iâm always complaining, and if anyone catches wind of it, theyâll make sure to teach me a lesson. Iâve had enough of those. I canât tell anyone. Not my husband. Not my sister.
The urge to escape is stronger than ever. I want to. I really do. But then I see my mother and sisterâs faces in my mind, and I know I wouldnât make it a step outside this prison before Iâd be caught.
With the bodyguards and the high security, itâs impossible. But itâs not just about me anymore. Alessia is here too, and I canât leave her alone in a house full of men.
Whether theyâre her brothers or not, theyâre members of the Giordano Family. I need to be here to guide her through this strange world she knows nothing about.
Sheâs as innocent as a newborn in this place, and she doesnât deserve to be left alone. I have to stay strong.
I wipe the water from my face and stand up. The shower is still running. I turn it off and step out, grabbing a white towel from the cupboard.
I realize I didnât bring any clothes with me and Iâm hoping Antonio isnât in the walk-in closet.
But my luck isnât holding up today. There he is, leaning against the dresser in just a pair of sweatpants as I walk into the closet, wrapped in nothing but a towel.