Alex (seven years old)
My mother sat on the big sofa chair with a book on her big round belly. She looked so comfortable and she had a small smile on her face. From where I was sitting on the floor, while arranging my puzzles, I saw her slowly rubbing circles over her stomach.My baby sister was in there. Father and Mother called her a princess. Why didn't they call me a prince? I wanted to be a prince!
But Mother called me her sweet boy, so that was okay.
"Mommy, can I feel the baby?" I asked softly. Mother looked up with eyes the same color as mine. She smiled.
"Of course, baby. Come here." She motioned for me to get up as she placed the book on the small table beside her.
I quickly got up and ran to her. Mother patted her lap and I climbed up and sat down on her lap, nestling into her chest. She took my hand and placed it on her round belly. As soon as my palm made contact with her stomach, I felt a hard kick. My eyes widened and I sucked in a shocked breath.
"She kicks hard," I whispered
"You used to kick harder," Mother replied, laughing.
"Really?" I looked up at her with wide eyes.
She nodded and made a humming sound. "You were a very strong baby."
"I like being strong!" The baby kicked again and I smiled. I couldn't wait to see my baby sister. "Mommy, I will always protect princess!" I said, looking at her stomach in awe. Father always said that as her big brother, I had to protect her. And I vowed I would.
I won't ever let anything happen to princess, I thought as I rubbed my small hand over Mommy's round stomach.
Mother placed a kiss on my temple and started humming some songs. She liked playing the piano and she was always humming. That would be our daily routine. Before going to sleep, she would play the piano for some time while humming. Most times, I would fall asleep on the sofa, listening to her play.
We sat there for a while and then I heard a knock on the door. Looking up quickly, I saw father leaning against the door, looking at Mother and me with an amused smile on his face.
"Papa!" I exclaimed loudly, quickly jumping off Mother's lap and running into his open arms. He pulled me up and hugged me tight to his body. I missed him so much. He had been gone for a few days, but now he was back.
"Hey there, my boy. How are you?" he asked.
"I'm good. I was feeling princess moving."
"Oh, really? I want to feel too," he said with a small laugh, walking us back toward where Mother was sitting. He stopped beside the couch and smiled down at her. Mother had a big smile on her face, and she looked peaceful as she stared at father. He placed a hand on her stomach and asked, "How is our princess?"
"She is kicking a lot lately," Mother said, placing her hand over his.
Father let me down and then leaned forward, kissing Motheron the lips. They kissed for some time, totally forgetting about me. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. They always did that.
Father pulled away but then pressed his forehead against Mother's. "I missed you, Angel," he whispered.
Angel. That was what father called Mother. But I never understood why.
Moving forward, I stood on the other side of Mommy. "Papa, why do you call Mommy 'angel'?"
They pulled away and stared at me. Father let out a small laugh while Mother's cheeks turned red. He crouched down in front of me. "What is an angel?" he asked.
I felt my forehead crease in confusion and then shrugged. "Isn't an angel someone with wings? God's messenger. They are nice people. They are supposed to help others."
"Correct. But an angel is also someone who is sweet, kind, caring, and calm. The most beautiful woman on the planet. Someone who is amazing in every way. An Angel is the girl who makes your heart beat faster when she walks into the room. The girl you need wherever you go. The girl who makes you want to be better. An angel is someone who is your rock. The person who you love with your entire heart. The person who you can't see yourself living without."
I stared at father in awe. He was a man of few words. I never expected him to give me such an explanation. And while he was talking, he stared at My mother ,his eyes shining with emotions that I couldn't understand.
"Oh," I mumbled quietly. I didn't know what to say. I heard him chuckle as I looked down. Mother laughed softly too. I felt a hand on my arm and looked up to see Mother pulling me toward her. I stood in front of her and she ran her fingers through my hair.
"And one day, you will find your angel," she whispered. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion and I quickly shook my head.
"But you are my angel, Mommy."
She gasped and then smiled. "My sweet boy." Shaking her head, she placed a kiss on my forehead. "No, baby, I'm not your angel. Your angel is waiting for you somewhere." She pulled back and palmed my cheek. "And when you do find her, don't ever let her go."
"Because if you lose her, then you will forever be incomplete," father added.
"Will she be like you, Mommy?" I asked, thinking about my angel. What would she look like? Would she be as beautiful as Mommy and as sweet as her?
"Oh, baby, she might be better than me," she said, laughing.
"Impossible," Father mumbled under his breath.
"Hush, Lyov," Mommy scolded, swatting his arm playfully.
He grumbled something that I couldn't understand and then stood up. He pulled Mother off the couch and then sat down, pulling her onto his lap. He nuzzled her neck and I heard her giggle.
I stared at them, shaking my head with a sigh. I had been forgotten again.
I went back to my puzzles. Mother and father were talking quietly while I played. I didn't know how long we stayed like that but the phone started ringing after some time. I looked up and saw him answering the call.
He looked frustrated and I heard him growl angrily. After a few seconds of listening to the other person from the line, he hung up.
"What's wrong?" Mother asked, rubbing his chest soothingly.
"I have to take care of some stuff," he said, shaking his head.
"Oh, okay then," She murmured, and then clumsily got off father's lap. They both stood up and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her as best he could with her big stomach in the way. He leaned down and kissed her again. A long, deep kiss.
When he leaned back, I heard him whisper, "Love you, Angel."
"I love you too, Lyov," she whispered back, her voice a little hoarse. Was she crying?
My heart twisted a little. I didn't want her to cry. He placed a kiss on her forehead and then turned to me. "Alex, come here."
I quickly got up and went to him. He crouched down and then stared into my eyes. "I have to go for a while," he said.
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Again?"
"Yes. While I'm gone, I want you to be a good boy and take care of your mommy and princess, okay?"
I nodded my head. I was a big boy now. "Yes. I will."
"Good," he said, placing a kiss on my forehead and standing up. He nodded at Mother and then walked away.
I heard her sigh. She sat back down and rubbed her eyes. "Mommy, why does Papa have to go away so much?"
"It's his work, baby. Your papa is a very busy man. He has a lot to do."
I went to her and climbed on her lap again. Laying my head on her shoulder sleepily, I sighed. "I want to be like Papa. He is so strong. And everyone listens to him. I want to be tough like him."
She shook her head. "No, Alex. You aren't like your papa." She palmed both of my cheeks and then continued. "You are not ready to fight the world. You are my sweet boy. My sweet gentle boy. And I want you to stay just like this." Placing a kiss on my forehead, she whispered, "Let your papa do the fighting."
I didn't say anything else. She always knew how to make me feel special. I would always be her sweet boy. That would never change.
Nodding my head, I closed my eyes. She was rubbing my back soothingly, and in no time, I had fallen sleep. And my dream was riddled with a black-haired angel. She had green eyes.
I didn't know this would be the last time that I had a peaceful sleep. Our lives would change forever.
10 years old
I walked into the cold basement, closing the door behind me quietly so that nobody heard me. A man was strapped to the chair in the middle of the room. His face and clothes were bloody. He was sagging against the chair and from where I was standing, I could hear his whimpers of pain.
Looking at him, I felt red hot anger coursing through my body. Murderous anger.
Kill. Kill him. Spill his blood. Make him pay, my mind screamed as my body started to shake with the force of my fury.
He was one of them. An Abandonato. The Italians. I still remember his face from that night. His laughing face as he tortured my mother with the others.
Walking forward purposely, I came to stand in front of him. He looked up, and if possible, his swollen eyes widened.
He opened his mouth to say something but only a gurgling sound came out through the gag. My hands tightened in a fist and I punched him hard in the face, his nose making a crunching sound as my knuckles came in contact with his face.
He screamed and I laughed.
His pain made me feel good. My heart soared, but I needed more. I needed his blood. I needed to see him suffering.
I needed to kill him.
Only then would I be satisfied.
Walking to the table at the back of the room, I looked at all the weapons laid out. There were so many. Different style. Big and small. I had never been to the basement before, but I heard the rumors around the mansion.
Taking the big knife with the spiral blade, I walked back toward the man. The man I loathed with all my being.
He whimpered in fear and started to shake his head and tried to move away, but he couldn't. He was strapped to the chair at my mercy.
Actually, I wasn't going to show him mercy. Mercy was no longer in my vocabulary.