Vincenzo MorenoI hate you! I hate you much more than you do to me. I hate you. She'd said the word thrice. Clearly and with a conviction that tensed her neck. Her teeth had been gritted, showing that truly, she meant what she'd said. I was a puzzled mess and a furious tiger. Two personalities resulting from the drama that'd occurred some minutes ago. Rina had spoken back at me. She'd talked back without missing a beat. She had matched gazes with me and had said those words. Apart from being thrown off-guard, I had been overtaken by anger. I seethed from the remnant of that anger. That explained my unrelenting squeeze at the steering, my hot gaze at the windshield and my flaring nose. The anger planted seeds of tears on my eyelids as well. I wasn't just pissed because of Rina's brazenness, but also at my inability to act like the man I was. I shut my eyes, my teeth grinding. I hated the tight situation I'd found myself in. Since being my normal self would drive Rina away, I'd h
Rina ZanteI stared at the cut on my arm which had a hand in keeping me awake throughout the night. It burned still, but not as bad as before. I could trace a finger across it, and even the densely packed rashes. Same went for my wrist and thigh. The injuries brought in yesterday's events. The utter confusion and strangeness that had existed. I'd long known Vincenzo was abnormal. However, the true extent of his problem had been lost to me until yesterday. That guy… He was sick. Mentally disturbed, and here I was in the center of it all.I don't just get it. He hated me, right? He'd called me all manner of names, humiliated me in front of everyone, looked at me like I was some rotten garbage; so, why then wouldn't he let me be? I'd done what he’d demanded. I had left, I'd walked out of his life, so why?Why come looking for me?He made me sound like a broken record because this would be the zillionth time I asked myself that. I'd simply wanted to go. I'd simply wanted to end it.I b
UNKNOWN POVBlank. That was all I saw. All I heard. All I felt. And I knew not what I painted; I wasn't frustrated either. The last bit sounded good since I hated being like everyone else. I wasn't like other artists.I selected some pigments and stroked them across the canvas, wallowing in the void I'd found myself. One would think that after all my hard work, I'd be happier than a king for finally achieving my goal. I had thought so, in fact. Uncle Emiliano too. Zia. But here I was. Worse than an average person. Life taster blander water. And I honestly didn't know why. Initially, I'd thought it was remorse. My fright at that point was nothing I'd felt before. And my relief upon learning remorse wasn't the case couldn't be measured. It wasn't remorse because I still thought about Father and gnash my teeth. I thought about him and battled with the urge to destroy his remains. Now that I knew I didn't have any atom of remorse in me, what then could explain this empty feeling?
Vincenzo MorenoEveryone had their definition for peace. Mine was the ultimate peace. I didn't speak out of pride or cockiness; it rather was pure fact. My idea of the concept overthrew that of the dictionary, and by extension, that of nature. Or natural law. One could only be said to have peace when he resided in a building—sea front—with the love of his life. When he woke up every morning to the angelic face she had. I had been watching her since I woke up. Nothing less than five minutes. Her face held more interest than a slasher movie or anything at all one fancied. She was beautiful. Her features, so many, I couldn't begin to mention. My ears received the soft snores leaving her throat. My side got caressed by her breath. I stared at her lashes. The spiky ends that always impaled me with a breathless feeling. I couldn't think of anything but her. As if reading my mind, she blinked. Creamy brown eyes met me, bringing forth a smile that melted my heart. "Buon ginorata," I sa
Vincenzo MorenoI grabbed a glove and slid my fist into it. Teeth clenched to bottle in the hurt, I wrapped the glove straps around my wrist; then headed straight to the ring.“Signore, you forgot the second glove.” I blocked out the voice and continued till I reached the ring. I waited for my opponent to show up. I would heap my frustration on that motherfucker . The murderous desire stacked up with every passing nanosecond. It was a great deal keeping still. After several agonizing minutes, the dick emerged. My icy eyes followed him from the locker room opposite to some feet away from the ring. He stomped closer. His gait, and in fact, his entire person irked me. I didn’t wait till he fully got in before rendering a blow across his cheek. Having caught him off guard, I dragged him across the ropes, and into the ring. Just then, he came around. Body going rigid, he sent a fist my way. I dodged, more pissed than ever that he’d challenged me. I dealt a merciless blow to his stoma
Vincenzo MorenoI should be excited. I should have my heart leap. I ought to grab the phone and hold it tight to my ear like a lifeboat. All these and more should have happened because Rina was calling.Instead, I stared on as the phone rang. A part of me, a teeny weenie part, wondered why she called. But the other side of me which was numbed by horror overshadowed it. I was sober enough to see the phone call as a bad sign. We were feet apart. Only a stone throw from each other and she was calling? She was terrified of me.No. I couldn’t shit myself any longer. The sooner I told myself the truth, the better for me. Rina wasn’t scared of me. She wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn’t part of her future.I looked away from the phone when it stopped blaring, and rose. I rose only to drop to the bed again.I hadn’t felt this anxious for a while. The person responsible wasn’t lost to me. the old bastard, Russo. He messed with my mind.What could I say? What exactly could I say when all o
Vincenzo Moreno The door let loose by a single twist of the key.I gripped the handle, only to freeze. Annoyance seeping onto my face, constricting my brows. My damn hands were sweaty. I was fucking nervous. I ground my teeth, hard enough to produce an ache. Sure I’d gotten my shit together, I pushed the door. Unsurprisingly, the first thing I set my eyes on was Rina. Seated on the floor; her back to the bed, she looked up from the carpet and cast her dazed eyes on me. Tiny balls of sweat dotted her forehead, gleaming under the fluorescent light. Before I could respond to that, she wrung her face, whimpering. I took an uncertain step forward. "Non mi sento troppo bene." [I don’t feel too good]. Her increasing whimpering snapped me out of my trance. “Hey,” I whispered, rushing towards her. I held her cheeks, brushing some strands of hair away from her face. “It’ll be fine. I’m here now.”The joy I felt when she clasped her hands on my flanks was unquantifiable. Yes, Rina. This i
Rina ZanteFeet shuffled into Michalis Gallery, the workshop where we art students created pieces. Once everyone settled in, the professor dished out his instructions yet again. We were to paint using any medium, and make use of any style we'd learnt so far. Surrealism was my choice. I guessed what they said was true. That passion was a driving force. It made you keep going even when the zeal was lost. My love for painting and the desire to teach it were the reason I was here despite all that'd happened. And in spite of the fact I'd be rudely reminded of the worst day of my life because of a particular face. I didn't wrestle for a spot like everyone did. No energy for that; I dreaded people now. As luck may have it, there was an unoccupied space facing the corridor at the far end of the gallery. And even more awesomely, it was secluded. The dots connected quickly. No one took it because Professor Carlo, the no-nonsense patriarch, had his seat close. I got to the spot and laid out
EPILOGUE Vincezo Moreno They were removing her off life support today. Jaw clenched, straight went my gaze. At infinity. Thunder droned at a distance. Clouds, gray, were laden with rain. It'd fallen all night. I'd taken an early morning flight, fortunately, and so, had been able to make it here. I didn't know if I should be comforted that nature empathized with me. Mourning along with me. Or I should break more, knowing that Rina had been to be next Luna, the reason why the skies mourned her imminent exit. I gave out heavy, fervent sobs, fishing out some tissue from the armrest. I wept into it. No. Grief hadn't left. It never would. As long as I lived, this was what I'd be: a grieving man. Wiping my nose, I set out to the pearl white walls of Andrea Filemone International Hospital. My fingers curved around the tiny velvety box. I held back the tears till I got to ICU: Room 4 and shut the door behind. The heart monitor beeped. My Rina still laid like a corpse on the bed, not d
Vincenzo MorenoDay 3: post operation. White stark walls moved behind as I was wheeled into ICU: room 4. My system was asleep, with just my ears acknowledging the clomp of feet on the floor, muddled chatters and the squeal the wheelchair had as it rolled on along the tiled floor.The nurse pushed in the door. My heart throbbed the instant I spotted her. It wasn't good for my recovery, as the doctor had said; I didn't care. I couldn't, not when she was involved. Something washed over me. Hurt that clawed at my core. The nurse placed me next to her and left. I lifted a hand, then placed it on Rina's. My cloudy eyes moved to her face.It was unbelievable, so much, because I'd thought I'd lost her. Almost pushed to tears, I kissed her hand—my eyes shut tight as I communicated using my mind. We'd converse this way until she recovered.I cannot believe it: I'm holding you. You are here with me, life and direct. There's so much that's to be said. So much I should let out that I have th
Vincenzo Moreno When I'd gotten a text from Alessio, I hadn't done the expected. Rather than steam with rage, I shut my eyes in relief, for it was all over. I would get Rina at long last and eliminate that son of a bitch.I'd gone straight to Padre and stood my ground. I'd venture into the jungle of Valle del Teschio. It'd been clear Padre was too interested in the whereabouts of the moon statue to see the emergency at hand. He'd been too distracted to think clearly. And not only that. This was my fight. My mess. And only I could clean it up. Nearly twenty-four hours down the line, I was marching into the unwelcoming forest, accompanied by an army of soldiers. The only thing I saw good about my pack was the level of organization it showed. The soldiers who were armed to the teeth were proof. They made up the emergency tactical unit. Always on their feet at the snap of the finger. The undergrowth impeded our movement; our determination was the driving force that kept us going. The
Rina ZanteFire crackled in the background. It was one marker that showed the girl on the floor, whose legs laid sprawled and eyes closed, was alive. That, together with the occasional forcing of air into her nostrils. I hadn't seen my period in months; so the growing pain around my belly felt strange. It'd started yesterday with just a dull throbbing. Now, it came more frequently, resembling my period with its undulating intensity. A low and a high. At the onset, I'd worried something was wrong with the babies. And even as I'd figured what could be amiss, dread sank deep into my bones—chilling my blood. It wasn't supposed to happen now. I pressed my teeth into my upper lip as the painful wave waltzed across. It wasn't supposed to happen now. A tear of heartbreak escaped. I couldn't have the babies here. Not now. My heart wept out of disappointment. I'd had faith the moon goddess would come through for me. I'd been in Central Temple, in my dream, happy like never before as I ca
Leonardo (Alessio)Everywhere was soaked in green. Even the air. It oozed of the scent of herbs. I got out of the car, which was something I'd looked forward to since the journey began. Not just because my bones ached, but also the car had been suffocating in the figurative sense of it, and till now, I couldn't explain how or why I was subject to guilt. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped from the weight of my feet as I trudged ahead, stopping in front of a beastly truck. This was our new home for the meantime. Until we got to the endgame. The hood bore dust and leaves laid strewn over its surface extending to the bottom rim of the windshield, bringing to my notice a poster of Mario Domenico—a well-known survivalist. A wooden wall was mounted at the tail region of the car. The wall formed a convex hood above the windshield. I went to the side of the truck for further inspection. There was a door, a pigeonhole notched close to the back tyre, a large window towards the back. And a ch
Vincenzo MorenoI forced open the door, cutting Dr. Yolanda short. "See it now? They've fucking succeeded."Initially taken aback, Dr. Yolanda sent her gaze to the receptionist standing beside me, eliciting an explanation for why I had barged in from the dumb girl. Dr. Yolanda didn't show she was mad. Rather, she waved the receptionist away, turning to me. "I'm currently having a session, Vincenzo.""This is a matter of life and death. Definitely it's worth looking into with immediate effect." She paused, eyes fixed at me, and pressed back against her swivel chair. "What is it?"I frowned. "Yes. What is it?""You don't expect me to talk…now." I looked at the client seated across from her. "So, it's private. Surely, it isn't something too pressing you can't spare some minutes." I glared at her, the intensity almost lethal. Yet, she held my gaze, not at all intimidated. "Go on, Vincenzo. The longer you stand there, the less your chances of meeting with me." After several seco
UnknownA four lettered bitch. Something cruel and unfair. A tyrant who everyone feared. None questioned it. None could challenge it to a fight. That was what life was. Life wanted me to be like everyone. Accepting the shit it threw my way with open arms. It was an absolute impossibility for me to succumb because none of it made sense. How was it that one was favored, and the other person disposed of like garbage? Alessio Salvatore wasn't better than me. He hadn't been taller nor with more powers. In actual fact, we both—like other babies—had been born with zero abilities. He hadn't been more facially endowed, nor blessed with an angelic cry. We'd both had the potential to keep our parents up at night with our wails. Yet, he'd been chosen over me simply because he'd been the first to arrive. I had been seen as the lazy one. Belief had it that I still was attached to the other world, and so would have a negative impact on the true born and everyone around me.They hadn't blinked be
Rina ZanteBit by bit, the wardrobe came into view. I fixed my eyes at it for a while before finally heaving up. My arms bore the under of my belly. A huge yawn left my mouth. I was tired, even though the sleep had been long and peaceful. Then again, I didn't see myself fancying the idea of taking another nap. My gaze moved to the curtains. It was well lit. A clock hanging next to it stated the morning had long started. Some minutes to nine. Off to the bathroom, I couldn't say what would become of today. One thing was sure, however, I'd be out of town in a short while. As I brushed, a thought materialized. It was one that widened the soft spot that'd been attached to my heart ever since my belly became visible. The bathroom sink had inspired the thought. It looked just as cozy as the tub in my dream. Clean in its pale blue color and adorned with cloud patterns around. The dream had been lucid; I could remember details of it. The babies had been having their bath. Just me with the
Vincenzo MorenoHer room was a brown monochrome. Fairly furnished and with large panel windows. I couldn't stop myself from wondering if every therapist's office was this way. Depressing. Dr. Yolanda edged close and handed me a cup of coffee. "I'm going to be honest with you," she said while lowering to her seat. "I'm glad you called."Her gaze spoke volumes. She expected me to lay my worries bare—my greatest pet peeve. However I had no choice. I wanted none of these anymore: torn away from Rina, waking up miserable, and being in exile. "Do you want to talk about it?" I stroked my thumb over the handle of the cup, then sent the hot beverage sliding down my throat. "How much time do I have?" I asked. "Forty five minutes, but I'm willing to make it an hour."Why? Because I'd make an interesting study?My focus laid on the coffee as I mentally prepped myself to talk."I want all this to end. I just want to wake up and see this as part of the past." A short pause followed. "I don'