Chapter 14: X

𝙰𝙿𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚇𝙸𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝚃𝚆𝙴𝙻𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝙶𝙾...

"Stay by my side, Vincent. Do as i say, when i say," says the authoritative voice of fifteen year old Zephaniah.

The two brothers trudge along the cobblestone pathway, having exited the run-down corner shop.

Across the road, a park can be seen. A ridged roundabout and some rusty, old swings are just about all it has to offer.

Vinnie observes his two older brothers, Xavi and Wyatt, as they push two of the three triplets in said swing-set. His eyes then travel to his three year old sister, who is held in the arms of Yakov.

She notices Vinnie staring at her and then glances at Zephaniah, who pays her no mind. She shyly cowers away and redirects her attention back to her twin brothers, clapping her hands and wiggling her little feet in excitement when she hears the sound of their childish laughter.

Vinnie feels as if he's missing out on all the fun, having been tasked to get the groceries alongside his eldest brother.

Zephaniah is his usual, moody self and displays this when he clips Vinnie on the back of his head for daydreaming.

After that, Vinnie forces himself to look away from his siblings, skipping to catch up with his brother's mammoth-like strides.

"You know my name's not Vincent, Zephaniah. Why must you call me that? I like my name but Wyatt said it sounds girly. I don't think it's girly; i think it's awesome. I told him his name was boring. I'm lucky because—"

The nine year old pauses mid-sentence, becoming distracted by a misshapen cloud.

One of the reasons his older brothers don't allow him to drink energy drinks is because he has an attention span that could rival their baby siblings'.

"I despise your name," Zephaniah retorts.

"I think Teddy's a funny name. If i named him, i would've called him Thor. Thor is my absolute favourite avenger, by the way! What will you name your son, Zeph?" he continues to pester the disinterested boy.

"Certainly not Thor. Not that i'm ever going to have a child."

"You don't know that!" Vinnie exclaims. "You could have a child one day, when you're big enough to. Wyatt told me that when you turn sixteen, you can have children. You'll be sixteen in November, so then you can."

"There's a big difference between casual sex and having sex to have children, Vincent. Big difference."

"How do you know anything about sex?"

Zephaniah releases an exasperated sigh.

After walking a few miles more, the pair come to a halt. In front of them, a bald, bulky man exits a convenience store, a plastic bag filled to the brim in his hands. The bell sounds as he bids farewell to the shopkeeper, nodding his head at the young boys as he walks past them.

Zephaniah glances at his clothes, and then his little brother's. Vinnie wears an oversized trench coat, some sneakers, and a pair of sweatpants; all hand-me-downs. Zephaniah wears shoes that are a size too small for him with holes in the sole, a Green Day t-shirt, and some faded jeans, but no jacket since he gave the one on his back to Xavi earlier on.

"Come on, Vincent. It's showtime."

Zephaniah gives his brother no time to respond, rushing him into the store.

Vinnie obediently follows his instructions, sticking to his side at all times as they make their way around the store.

At one point, Zephaniah glances over his shoulder and sees that the shopkeeper is watching them closely. To avoid suspicion, he picks up a packet of breakfast rolls and places them in Vinnie's hands.

The two of them grab a few more groceries before heading to the checkout, flashing bright smiles at the cashier who begins packing their items into a carrier bag, unsuspecting of the gun Zephaniah clutches in his pocket.

"Will that be all?" the man asks, as Zephaniah shakes his head.

"Some tobacco for my father, please."

Nodding, the cashier turns around in order to grab a packet from the stand behind him. Only, once he has done so, he drops the packet, shocked by the scene in front of him: Zephaniah holding a gun against his little brother's head.

"Actually, i require one more thing." Zephaniah flashes the cashier a sweet, innocent smile. "Hand over the money in the till and anything else that might be of use to me."

When the shopkeeper continues looking like a dear caught in headlights, Zephaniah further shoves the gun against Vinnie's head, subtly kicking him in the shin which causes him to release a fearful whimper.

"Are you waiting for the fucking Messiah to come? Get a move on before i shoot this little boy's brains out. Or maybe i should kill the two of you. You see, i'm not feeling very generous today. I would hate for someone to be the brunt of my already growing temper," he seethes with contempt.

The teen smirks in satisfaction when he sees multiple tills being opened at his command, with dozens of bills, alcohol, and cigarettes being placed onto the counter before him.

A man more than twice his age at his mercy, yet this is just another Saturday for the young boy.

One of the mottos Zephaniah lives up to is 'Go big or go home,' and he certainly brought the element of surprise.

At just fifteen years old, he has become one of the most notorious kids in his neighbourhood, taking part in many illegal activities. A powerful leader of the neighbourhood misfits, parents tell their kids to steer clear of him and his family.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Would you be so kind to add on some magazines and candy for the kiddies, too?" he prompts, watching as the man hurries to pack everything. "Siblings. Got any?" he asks the man, who frantically shakes his head.

Zephaniah snorts.

"Just as well. They're annoying, time-consuming, little shits. Not worth it if you ask me."

He carelessly pockets the gun, handing several bags to Vinnie, who remains as frozen as a statue.

A wide grin spreads across his face when he sees his little brother's bewildered expression.

The one advantage of having so many younger siblings is that he can use them as part of his schemes.

He knows they are scared of his unpredictable nature, but it is something he can hold over them and so he doesn't plan on providing them any reassurance.

"Have a nice day, Sir." Zephaniah nods in appreciation, before turning on his heels, Vinnie trotting behind him. "T'was a pleasure doing business with you."

The pair begin the walk back as soon as they leave the store, Zephaniah's chatterbox of a brother now stunned into silence.

"Why are you so quiet, huh?" he

asks the nine year old. "I didn't scare you, did i?"

Zephaniah bends down to his height, watching the shaken boy cower away, his big, doe eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Ignoring his body language, the elder places both hands onto his brother's shoulders and leans in closer.

"You did well, Vinnie," he says, his tone somewhat sincere. "We're rich now...for the time being," he jokes. "The others will be lining up to be your best friend in no time."

He intently observes the way the child's eyes light up at the prospect of his older brothers including him.

All Vinnie wants is to be more than just the middle child whom everyone overlooks.

All Vinnie wants is to make his eldest brother proud.

Zephaniah stands up and begins counting the bills. It's not all that much, but is enough to support a family of ten for the time being. He plans on saving it, however, so he can eventually run far, far away and take his younger brothers and sister with him.

He doesn't know how long it will take, or how much cash he will need, but he will do it for them in a heartbeat. He may not like all of them that much, and they may feel the same about him, but they are family above anything.

That's all that matters.

"You said my name right," Vinnie points out in a murmur, Zephaniah nonchalantly shrugging in response.

"So what?"

"So...you said my name right," he repeats, a small smile gracing his face.

"What happens now? Do i get a wittle gold star?" his brother mocks.

Vinnie huffs, rolling his eyes at his eldest brother's immaturity. He watches intently, as Zephaniah removes a bottle of vodka from the bag, downing a few gulps of it before he holds it against Vinnie's mouth.

"Drink."

Vinnie eyes the bottle, skeptical, but takes a sip nevertheless. Zephaniah watches in anticipation, choking on his laughter when his little brother  spits out the drink.

Poor Vinnie, always taken advantage of.

"Priceless," Zephaniah taunts through his laughter. "You little weakling, couldn't even swallow it."

He grabs the bottle from his brother's hands, taking another long sip.

"Bully," Vinnie mutters, hoping his brother won't hear.

"What was that?" Zephaniah challenges.

"Nothing."

"Thought as much."

After a few minutes pass, Vinnie returns to his normal, chatty self. Something that seems impossible, given what he just endured.

"Zeph. Zeph. Zeph. Zeph. Zeph. Zeph. Zeph. Zeph," he repeats, prodding his brother's arm.

"You know, here i was thinking this is the quietest you've ever been and then you had to go and ruin it," the teen snarls. "Please, before i do something i won't regret, how may i help you?" he stops in his tracks, turning to face the boy.

"Just...well...what would you have done back there...if he said to shoot me?" Vinnie asks, timidly, gazing up at his big brother.

"He wouldn't have."

"But how do you know that?"

"I know everything."

"But how do you know that?" Vinnie ignores him.

"Shut up, Vincent," Zephaniah tells him, with a sigh. "In the unlikely scenario where he asks me to shoot you, i would've gagged him with my gun and fired a bullet through his mouth."

"Oh..."

Vinnie regrets asking.

— VINNIE —

The first thing i notice when waking up is that i am not in my own bed.

The surface i lie on feels much more sturdy and solid; nothing like my memory-foam mattress at home. I then realise that i am propped up slightly.

A thin, white sheet drapes over the lower half of my body and it takes me a while to acknowledge the IV drip in my right arm.

I cannot recall why am in (what must be) a hospital.

I don't feel any pain...In fact, i don't feel much, and i am unable to check for physical damage.

A few moments go by, as i remain lying there, confused, and then a middle-aged nurse appears by my side and begins to analyse my condition.

I watch her write something on her blue clipboard, struggling to lift my head up as i attempt to take a peek.

"Young man, i'm going to have to ask you to remain as you were," she commands, harshly pushing me back into place without an ounce of hesitation.

"Or what?" i uncharacteristically snarl, sounding an awful lot similar to one of my teen brothers.

"Or, i'll have to consider other precautions."

I childishly snort with laughter, internally cursing my dirty mind.

The woman, on the other hand, simply looks me up and down, raising an amused eyebrow and shaking her head at me.

"Like what you see?" i ask, wiggling my eyebrows in a suggestive manner while i attempt to sit up once more.

I begin to cough, and feel myself being pushed down again.

Whatever medication they put me on has clearly taken its toll, considering the fact i am suddenly acting like a preteen.

I scowl but comply despite my futile resistance, resting my head back onto the pillow beneath me and allowing her to do her job.

"I feel light," i speak up. "Like...like i'm floating or something? I—is that normal? That i feel weightless?" i nervously gulp, glancing up at her with fear in my eyes.

"You're in the healing process right now, so of course everything's gonna feel a bit topsy-turvy for a while. We're just gonna see how you get on in the meantime. Your operation went as planned, and you've had more than enough rest, so we're looking at a few more days before you can finally get outta here," she explains, and i nod, unsure.

"But...but." i pause, sighing as i struggle to make sense of it. "It all went black; everything went black," i state. "I was with Val one minute, and then we heard loud bangs, and then it went black...and..."

There it is.

"I was shot."

The women flashes me a sympathetic smile, placing her clipboard down as she sits by my bed. Taking my hand in hers, she began caressing it in a soothing manner.

She's being delicate with me; treating me like i am a china doll and, with one prod, i will shatter into a million pieces.

I have barely any recollection of what got me here in the first place. It's all too fresh, and i can't help but feel incredibly overwhelmed and vulnerable.

All i want is to get out of bed, but, at the same time, i'm not fit enough to.

I have no idea how long i've been in here, or how long i was unconscious for. I have no idea where any of my siblings are, and if Uvaldo is okay or not. In fact, the only thing i do recall is the dream i was having before i woke...

It was a memory from my childhood, over a decade ago now. Zephaniah was merely a teenager and i wasn't even in my double digits then.

Although i had already experienced it, it unsettled me to relive it. Everything in this dream was so life-like; from the way we were dressed, the scenery around us, the conversation...the gun.

Everything about it was so exact and it scared me because it was only one of many memories which i had buried at the very back of my mind.

This obviously raises a bunch of questions in my mind as to why i had to relive that day all over again.

My first guess would be that it is because i was in a similar situation recently.

"Wait, i was shot?"

"Lower abdomen. I'm guessing you aren't a stranger to this type of thing but what i can tell you is that you were very lucky, Vinnie," she confirms, emphasising her words.

"And how do you know i'm not a 'stranger' to being shot?" i question, in an incredulous tone.

"I've tended to your family before, Vinnie," she tells me. "Y'all aren't exactly the epitome of subtle."

"Hm," i muse, looking up at her with sheer amazement in my eyes. "What is your name, by the way?" i quickly change the subject.

"Margaret," she answers, standing up. "Is there anything i can get you, Sonny? Any more questions, while we're at it?"

"Yeah...um, where is my family? Can i see them yet? And...is Uvaldo okay? Is he here?"

I may be a tad bit loopy but my main concern right now is whether or not my younger brother is okay. I assume — since he was with me at the time — that he was, or still is, in the hospital.

I would never be able to forgive myself if he wasn't okay.

"Unfortunately not, i'm afraid. Your family aren't able to be here at this moment in time but later on, depending on your condition, we'll allow them to visit. As for your brother, he was in and outta here in a flash. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, my dear. He's at home, along with the rest of your family right now, and he's gonna be just fine...As are you, once we get ya all fixed up," she reassures me.

Although i am still apprehensive, i accept her answer and offer her a small smile and nod.

She then asks me if i am hungry and want some food. I immediately decline the offer but, lo and behold, Margaret isn't taking no for an answer. It was an unusual response from me anyway. I am otherwise known as the family chef and my stomach is a bottomless pit.

However, i guess my current state must be critical enough to put me off eating altogether.

All i can do is wait, as i lie in the hospital bed, wondering how and why i was shot in the first place.

— SUCKER PUNCH —

At some point in the afternoon, my siblings come to visit me.

One by one, they enter the room. Some cast me sympathetic glances on their way in and others avoid looking in my direction entirely.

I have pretty much calmed down from my high now and learned from Margaret that i had been in surgery (for the second and hopefully final time) today.

Perhaps that is why i was acting so loopy earlier on.

Getting operated on twice in such close proximity could have been risky, but, according to my nurse, it was the right thing to do. My condition could have been fatal and even caused my memory of the incident to be unclear at first.

Thankfully, with some help, i was able to fill in the blanks.

Of course, the hospital staff needn't know everything that happened. Their sole job is to make sure i get looked after properly while i am here.

"Look who it is! My least favourite sister, how have you been?" i address Zephaniah, who hasn't yet bothered to acknowledge me.

He rolls his eyes, approaching my bedside. From the corner of my eye, i see the rest of my siblings sniggering when he pretends to pull the plug on my nonexistent life-support.

Well, all of my siblings bar Yakov, who shakes his head in disproval.

"You really have no sense of humour, Yakov." Zephaniah scoffs at our second eldest brother, who remains at the back of the room.

His arms are kept crossed over his torso, like he means business, and he flashes Zephaniah a scathing glare, causing the latter to grin at him.

"I'm sorry if i am mistaken but the last time i checked, we didn't come here to mess around," he reprimands our older brother, who raises his hands in mock surrender.

"C'mon, Grandpa, even Vincent thought it was a funny, lighthearted  joke," he continues, "and we both know he'd rather it were me in that hospital bed."

"Mom and Dad are fighting again," Seamus sings, earning a pointed glare from both Zephaniah and Yakov.

"Wrong word choice, Bud." Uvaldo winces, patting him on the shoulder.

"Can you all stop arguing for, like, a second and pay attention to me?" i say. "Sorry, that didn't sound half as self-centred in my head."

"No, you're right, Vin," Xavi speaks up. "You're the most rational one in the room right now."

"Why is it that when we're all in the same room, we act like we're back in kindergarten or something?" Wyatt queries.

"Speak for yourself," Quentin mumbles.

"Because when Zephaniah is in the room, everybody has to stoop to his level," Rori joins in, causing the former to roll his eyes at her.

"Guys!" i exclaim. "What did i just say?"

"Vinnie's right, although it pains me to admit that. For once, let's stop trying to wind each other up and actually focus on the task at hand," Uvaldo takes charge.

Although we are now business partners and have been reunited on the sole basis that our lives are in danger, we are still all brothers and sister. And there just so happens to be ten of us.

Despite the fact we don't necessarily behave like typical siblings, bickering is the one thing we do best. And, usually, it's during the worst possible timing.

"I agree with Vinnie and Uvaldo. Now is not the time to be acting so childish," Wyatt says. "There's bigger things at stake for us, like, oh, i dunno...maybe the fact my little brothers were shot a few days ago and i could've lost them."

Rori immediately makes her way to Wyatt's side, timidly wrapping her arms around his waist. He returns the hug, but his focus remains elsewhere.

Our twenty-three year old brother is never known to be so blunt about things. Especially not when the kids are present.

I appreciate that, though.

If there's anything he feels responsible for when it comes to raising them, it's wanting to keep them as innocent as possible, which is difficult to do considering their tainted past.

Rori is the main reason for his protectiveness, because, from the moment she was born, Wyatt built up this idea of being the perfect brother for her.

It's something that he and Xavi often argue about nowadays, and this is due to the fact he sometimes takes it too far.

He refuses to let her down, ever, and would lie to her face if it meant she would be happy for the rest of her life.

If Rori asked him to buy her a pony, he would buy the damn pony, and if Rori asked him to kill for her, he would do it without a second thought.

I suppose this is good, in a sense, that the two of them have such a healthy relationship. In my sister's case, i guess it can be hard to feel like she belongs in amongst us boys. Wyatt makes her feel some kind of superiority over the rest of us, as he plays this role of the favourite brother.

She turns to him because she knows he would never shun her. She seeks comfort in him and knows he wouldn't judge her, or pick on her like the rest.

Instead, he places her on a golden pedestal and tells her to dream big.

The thing about Rori is that she was never a so-called 'Mommy's girl', nor was she a 'Daddy's girl'. Unfortunately, that is due to the neglect and abuse of our parents.

She was Wyatt's girl, though, and that was more than enough.

Sometimes i see her take advantage of him and the fact he has a soft spot for her, but i don't bother interfering. They both deserve to be loved and cared for in such ways.

The rest of us used to tease Wyatt endlessly for his loving nature when it came to his baby sister. Of course — being one of the oldest — this didn't affect him in the slightest. As for the younger ones, especially Seamus and Quentin, they became jealous at times.

When they were younger, i don't think they realised that being triplets doesn't necessarily mean they are the only boys Rori is allowed to associate herself with. It was almost like they wanted to be her personal bodyguards, literally gate-keeping her.

However, at that time, Rori was the more independent of the three. She could quite happily play on her own, or with other kids in the neighbourhood, unlike Seamus and Quentin.

"Look, i think everyone is clearly a bit on edge here," Xavi speaks up, clearing his throat. "As it just so happens, we are aware of the seriousness surrounding this situation and we're handling it already. The hard part has been working together but it's something that needs doing. There's no need for people to overreact, Wyatt." he sends his younger brother a meaningful glance. "Nobody's dying...unless i finally go insane from dealing with you guys."

At the end of his speech, he not-so-discreetly pulls out a hip flask and pours its contents into his coffee cup, causing a few of us to laugh.

He simply ignores our teasing reactions, doing a double take when he is met with Rori's judgmental stare.

She has her hands folded in front of her, her head tilted to one side, and, to be honest, she looks quite cute.

"Wyatt wasn't overreacting, Xavi. And we aren't dumb, either," she immediately argues. "You say we need to work together on this but you don't even mean all of us. You mean the 'adults'."

"Rori, what's your point?" he asks her, releasing an exasperated sigh.

"My point is, you're keeping us out of the loop. Again."

He rolls his eyes and Rori goes to speak up once more before being swiftly cut off by Yakov.

"I suggest you don't talk back, Rori. That is highly disrespectful. Your brothers and i know what we're doing. All we ask is that you show patience in the meantime."

From somewhere in the room, Zephaniah groans in annoyance.

"I believe shut the hell up would've been a better way to put it, but yeah, what he said."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

We are currently rewatching CCTV footage from last Wednesday; the night when i was shot.

Teddy and the triplets have been sent to the hospital canteen to go and buy themselves some dinner, giving us time to review the footage.

I can't help but feel slightly sorry for my sister, being left with the three of them.

If i weren't still bed bound, i would check on her and make sure she is okay. Those of us that care to notice can see they are having issues, or, rather, the boys seem to have an issue with Rori right now.

"Time stamp: two minutes and forty-seven seconds. Watch closely," Zephaniah says.

I look at the screen once more, observing how me and Uvaldo exit the side door of a bar in order to have a smoke.

It is dark, but there is some dim lighting shining down on us. The time reads nine thirty-four pm.

I light a cigarette and offer one to my brother, who declines. A few minutes go by as we converse with one another.

After that, you see our attention shift to the right corner of the screen.

We walk over to a courtyard area and that is when — from behind — a man fires his gun at us, a black ski mask covering his face. A bullet is fired our way, barely scathing Uvaldo's right shoulder. It is only when i move my little brother behind me and attempt to shield him that i am shot.

Xavi pauses the clip and releases a heavy breath, resting his face against his palms.

It is not unusual that my brothers are so stressed. However, this is a more extreme case.

It's clear this shooting was no coincidence.

We were prime targets and this was the signal that a war is about to begin.

"And what do we intend on doing now?" Yakov glances at our eldest brother, who pays him no mind.

Instead, Zephaniah's eyes are glued to the computer screen.

He takes a swig of whatever is in Xavi's hip flask — no doubt wishing he could douse himself in a bottle of his favourite scotch — and scratches his freshly-shaved stubble, before standing up.

"We fight back, of course. That should be obvious by now, no?" he cocks his head at his younger brother.

"Yes, i understand that, Fratello, but we have not yet discovered who the culprit is. Surely before you go planning any elaborate attacks, we want to know who we are going after?"

"Yakov, mio amico, if you ask me something expecting an immediate answer, don't bother to question my intelligence also," Zephaniah chastises him with his usual false, tight-lipped  smile. "Siamo chiari?"

"Si," comes Yakov's curt response.

"The thing is, we needn't play these guessing games anymore. I know exactly who was behind this...conspiracy," he venomously spits the word.

The six of us share a few skeptical glances, communicating only with our eyes.

"And who exactly do you propose this mastermind conspiracist to be?" Uvaldo asks, with a slight mocking tone.

"Who is the one person that has had it out for me since the beginning? The person that wants my head so badly on a silver platter? The person who would do anything just to get to me? " he prompts, as each of our eyes widen at the suggestion.

"I—it couldn't be..." Xavi shakes his head in disbelief.

"Oh, but it could." Zephaniah grins, menacingly. "I almost refuse to say his name, to be honest. Like Voldemort, that man is," he muses. " 'He who shall not be named'...only that would give him the utmost satisfaction and for that reason, i will say his name with such distaste..."

"Henryk?"

"Henryk."

(Edited)