Father is carried piggy back style by another neighbour.
I gasp at the sight of my old man. His bruised hand hangs limp by his side as he is laid on our straw bed. He moans in pain. Little Thomas starts to whimper and I have to shield him from seeing father. Mother kneels down by the side of the bed, softly calling out to father. As she calls him, she wipes the flood of tears that come streaming down her face.
“Tim,” she whispers, choking back sobs. I want to cry too.
Father’s face is bruised, his eyes swollen shut and there are bloody welts across his back. He had been whipped. Rose steps out of the bathroom and stifles a cry.
“Hurry! Get cloth and water!” I manage to croak out before pushing Thomas into the arms of Samuel’s wife. She has come to help. Swiftly, she carries a bawling Thomas out of the room.
I seethe with anger. Beasts. The mafia are beasts. How could they do this to father?!
Rose comes back in with a wooden round basin and a clean cloth.
I quickly help mother to strip off father’s bloodied clothes. His other hand is badly wounded. The bones of his fractured left arm protrude through his skin in a ghastly manner. Even a fool can tell that his hand and arm will never be the same again.
“Tim,” mother calls out gently once more.
This time he stirs, his eyes are glazed but suddenly he writhes all over like a frothing animal with rabies fighting off an invisible enemy. He tries to sit up but is too weak.
“Father…” I call out. My heart breaks at the sight of him. It feels as if a thousand needles has pierced my heart.
He finally awakes and shivers. There is fear in his eyes.
“Run, they’re coming. You have to leave..” he gasps and wheezes.
Mother gently soothes him as I wipe off the blood from his body. There is pus forming around his wound. This is not good. We don’t have any medication.
“It’s alright Tim. You’re home. You’re fine. We’re all here.”
Father keeps shaking his head, a tremor runs through his body as I apply water to clean his wound, “No..you don’t understand…you have to leave now..”
Then he falls into unconsciousness once more.
We nurse throughout night and I swear that his once salt and peppered hair turned completely white overnight. Mother and I take turns while Rose tries to soothe a weeping Thomas to sleep. I can hear him even now, calling out for mother and father. Rose is singing him a lullaby in the room next door.
A rumour begins to spread among the villagers like wildfire. Everyone is saying the same thing, the mafia is coming. They have run out of land and are eyeing our little village on top of the hill. Father had tried to reason with them.
“There’s nothing but potatoes and trees up there. You’ll only be wasting your time and resources,” father had told them. I guess the mafia did not like what they heard for father ended up half dead after that.
***
It is the third day since father came back and I awake in the corner of the room to moans of pain. I look at the round little clock which hangs at the wooden wall.
Damn! I had overslept. It’s been two hours since I last checked on father. Mother is nowhere to be seen but I can smell potatoes and spices coming in from the kitchen. Quickly I head over to where father lays and touch his forehead. It is hot. He is running a fever.
Gently I open the bandage around his wounds. What kind of torture weapon did they use on him? The broken skin is badly infected and swollen.
Father needs a doctor.
“Father, can you hear me?” I squeeze his hand gently but he doesn’t reply. He only mumbles incoherently. This is no good. I quickly run out to get mother. We must find help.
***
ROSE’s POV
I could not sleep last night, nor the night before. Every time I close my eyes, I hear father’s screams of pain and whimpers of fear. It is driving me crazy.
This morning, it is no different. I step out of my room only to see Lily run out of father’s room. Our house is small and it doesn't take a genius to tell where she is going. It's either the bathroom or the kitchen. In her mad dash to the kitchen, she does not see me so I quietly slip into our parents’ cramped room where father lays.
He is moaning still. I fear he will not get better. He has not been drinking the broth mother has been making for him.
“Lily?” father calls out weakly.
“It’s Rose,” I walk over to him and pats his head. His forehead is burning up and his eyes can no longer see. They had been brutal with him, the mafia.
“Rose…” he whispers hoarsely. There is a smell on him, it comes from his wound. It smells as if he is rotting. He lifts a trembling hand, trying to touch my face but for some reason, I recoil from his touch.
I blink at my reaction. This is father, surely I am not repulsed by him?
I briefly catch his hand and lay it on his side, letting go of his hand a little too fast, “Hush father, you need to rest.”
He shakes his head with great difficulty, he knows he will not get better. Not without medical help. And we have none. Who would dare help us? It’s obvious father had gotten on the bad side of the mafia.
It took Samuel and another neighbour one whole day just to bring him back. Add the other three days that he’s been lying sick in bed. That totals up to four and his condition has only worsened. At this rate, he will not make it. Even if he does, life will be difficult for him.
Maybe it is better for him to die.
Yes, maybe he should just go away in peace. That might be better for him. And us.
LILY’s POVIt is decided. I am to venture downhill in search of a doctor. Or a pharmacist. Or anyone who can sell us some fucking medicine. Father’s wounds are badly infected and he needs help. Mother has warned me to be careful. We have not told anyone from our village, lest they try to stop us. But how would they know the pain and rage that torments us at this moment? How do they know the agony that father has to bear every second? How would they know? How can they know? They are not the ones who were brutally tortured and had their bones broken, nor are they the ones who were whipped until their skin tore with a poisoned whip. They would never understand. I have to go, there is no other way.It is the witching hour now and father’s fever is getting worse.“I love you,” mother whispers as she hugs me tightly in the tiny bedroom that Rose and I share. She does not want to let go and I have to pry her fingers away.I
KANE’s POV I sit in the darkened office of Owen’s Pharmacy and stare into the eyes of the man who killed my father. There is fear in his dull brown eyes, but it is a fear that has come too late. He rubs his palms together, begging for mercy on his knees as Tore, my right-hand man holds him at gunpoint from behind. I trust Tore with my life, he has stuck by my side ever since we were children. We’re pretty much blood brothers though we look nothing alike. Tore wears his light brown hair sleeked back and tied up in a little ponytail and has the build of a Greek god. Even as he cocks the gun at Owen, Tore towers over the trembling man. “Please, I have a wife and a kid,” Owen begs with a quivering voice. I lean forward from the worn-out plastic stool that I sit on and stroke the man’s pudgy cheeks with my blade. It's sharp and pointy, and grazes Owen on the cheeks. He winces in pain and a streak of dark red blood appear. “S
ROSE’s POVIt’s been less than two hours since Lily’s been gone but to me, it feels like an eternity has passed. I wonder if she will be able to find any medication for father, but more importantly, I have to wonder if the medication will work at all given the condition that he is in right now.I look at Thomas who is sleeping soundly next to me on my bed. He has kicked off his blanket in his sleep and is drooling all over our pink worn-out mattress. I love my little brother, but I hate his drools. They stink. In the next room, it sounds like father has woken from his sleep and is talking to mother, but I cannot be sure. All I can hear are incoherent sounds coming through the paper-thin wall between our rooms.I stand up from the torn and tattered bed and walk towards the only window in my bedroom, wishing for some fresh air. The room is too stuffy. But as I open the creaky wings of the window, I am not greeted by the cool morning air,
LILY’s POV When I was young, probably around three or four, father would perch me on his broad shoulders and run around our little wooden house as I flapped my hands in the air. I’d imagine myself a bird, soaring free and high in the sky. I remember how happy I had been then. My lips would curl up so high they would reach the corners of my eyes. Such was the joy of our simple game. I’d always ask for ‘just one more time’ and though father was weary from work, he never failed to indulge in me. Father worked hard for all of us, and now the time has come for me to take the burden from him. “You?” the leader cocks his head with a quizzical look. An eyebrow arches high as he looks me up and down, not sure what to make of my offer. I guess volunteering is not a common thing. “Yes, take me. Leave my sister alone,” I say with resolute, trying to hide the fear in my voice. From the corner of my eyes, I can see Rose’s dainty little mouth drop to an ‘O’
KANE’s POV “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.” ―Sun Tzu,The Art of War I stand atop the balcony of my late father’s mansion overlooking the city. There is a gentle breeze that plays with my hair as I look at the world that lays before me. I lift a hand with an outstretched arm and curl my fingers in, seemingly swallowing the city whole. It is only a matter of time before I claim back what rightfully belongs to the Ibraco family. My family. My father was the most powerful mafia leader of his time. He was ruthless and his name evoked fear throughout the land. If he asked you to down a bucket of shit, you would do it with a smile, otherwise, not only would you lose your head, your parents and children would lose theirs too and everyone else who is even remotely linked to your name would end up facing the guillotine. But my fat
*Kindly note that this chapter contains trigger warnings. Please read at your own discretion.LILY’s POVI don’t think this is Sergio’s room. It certainly doesn’t look like a gang leader’s room, it’s more like a holding cell of some sort. There is a lone window that has been heavily barred with timber planks leaving just enough space for you to peer out and catch a glimpse of the starry night, but not enough for you to stick a hand out to signal for help.Help.That is something I desperately need right now, but who would come? Who would step into this hellhole and free us all? No one. There will be no help.There is only one piece of furniture in this cold and unforgiving room. The four poster bed, but it gives me no solace for I know the crimes that have been committed on these beautiful white linen. I can hear the ghostly echoes of those who came here before me as their ho
KANE’s POV “Treat your men as you would your own beloved sons. And they will follow you into the deepest valley.” ―Sun Tzu,The Art of War A cool gust of wind caresses my skin as we finally reach our destination. Sergio’s haven looms over us as we crouch hidden in the tall grass. The place is dark, save for a few torched flames that Sergio’s guards carry as they patrol the premise. Russo, who is the stealthiest amongst us raises his hand ever so slightly, forming the number seven with his fingers. Seven. Seven men patrol this dilapidated factory. That is strange. Sergio doesn’t have that many men with him left, probably thirty left at best. So why would he send seven out here to guard the area? I wonder. Unless there is something valuable inside the building that he needs to guard. No matter, I will find out soon enough. I give the signal to Russo and he leads our men
KANE’s POVQuietly I make my way down the long dark and smokey hallway of the topmost floor. I know Sergio is nearby for he was not on the ground floor.Guess I am right. Two dark figures run across the hallway and I smile. Time for a little game of cat and mouse.I draw my gun and chase after the men who lurk in the shadows only to come face to face with two giants and one of them is none other than Sergio. He holds a strange little bag in his hand. Is that what he is protecting? Could that be the SEAL that he stole from father?Whoever holds the SEAL controls the mafia and if that is what is in Sergio’s hand then I must have it back. By hook or by crook.“Hello Kane, we meet again,” his lips curl up with a smile that never reaches his scarred eyes. He thinks he has the upper hand with that trembling lowlife who cowers beside him.“Give it up Sergio,” I cock the gun and aim it betwe
“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.” —Vera LynnLILY’s POVThe instant seems frozen in eternity. I hear the blast of explosion from the pistol and a thud is heard.And then a wail.It is Wendy’s.I open my eyes, not realizing that I had closed them earlier and see Kane holding the child in his arms. There is blood on his shirt. He had wrestled the gun out of her hand and she had shot him.“Kane!” I yell, running towards him only for Rose to swing the pistol in my direction.“Stay back! Don’t move!” she screams. She seems confused, scared even. The blood on Kane’s shirt blossoms like a red rose.“I shot Kane….” she whispers, her fingers start to tremble. Her eye remains fixated on the pistol in her hands and she looks as if
ROSE’s POVMOMENTS BEFORE ROSE’S SCREAMS.Night has come and I sit in front of my dressing table, combing my hair but I cannot concentrate. Is this the tenth or eleventh stroke?It is too noisy downstairs, I am unable to concentrate.Then I hear them laugh; Lily, Kane and even that annoying Russo. I know they are laughing at me, they’re all hiding in the study room talking about me and plotting to get rid of me. My hand grips the brush so hard that my knuckles turn white.Wicked…they’re all wicked people.Wendy starts to cry in her rib and my head snaps in her direction. I just fed her, why is she crying again?“Shut up!” I yell at her but she too does not listen to me. No one respects me.“Shut UP!” I yell again, throwing the comb at the crib. It lands at the side of the crib, breaks into two and drops onto the flood with a thud. Wendy’s wails escalate to the point w
“It may take a year or it might take a day, but what’s meant to be will always find its way.” —UnknownLILY’s POVI walk towards Kane ever so cautiously, taking one step at a time. And with each step that I take, I tell myself that this is not a dream. Kane called out my name.This is reality.I stop in front of the mahogany desk he is sitting at and he looks up from the paper he is scribbling on. Our eyes meet and my heart starts to pound with a mixture of both joy and fear. Do I go to him or do I stay? What if it wasn’t my name he had called out? What if the physiotherapist heard wrongly?Kane drops his pen and stands up, towering over me. I had forgotten how tall he is.“Lily…” he says my name and at that instant, my walls come crumbling down. Tears line my eyes and my lips quiver.“You remember me?” I whisper. I can barely breat
“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.” — Sun Tzu,The Art of WarLILY’s POVThere is no point arguing with Rose. It’s like talking to a brick wall. I don’t want to risk another innocent life either. One doctor’s death was enough, the thought of Dr Chase’s grieving grandfather is more than enough to stop me from pressing on with the paternity test.I close my eyes briefly and pinch the bridge of my bode between my thumb and index finger. Ian comes out of the room and leans against the corridor wall next to where I stand. He does not speak, he merely places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.We stay like that for a very long time before Ian finally speaks. “So what next?”I sigh. “We wait, we wait for Kane to truly awaken.”*****The wait is a long one. Days tu
“So brief a time we have to stay, along this dear familiar way. It seems to me we should be kind, to those whose lives touch yours and mine.The hands that help us who may know, how soon the long, long way must go? And might we not their faults forgive, and make them happy while they live? So many faults in life there are, we need not go to seek them far. But time is short and you and I might let the little faults go by.And seek for what is true and kind, in those whose lives touch yours and mine. It seems to the better way, then why not friend, begin today?” – Anonymous. LILY’s POV I stand at the edge of Kane’s hospital bed as a physician tends to him. My feet tap nervously on the ground and my fingers dig into my palm as I stare at Kane who lays motionless with his eyes fixated on the ceiling. The physician is shining a mini torchlight into his eyes and calling out his name. “
LILY’s POV“A strong person is not the one who doesn’t cry. A strong person is one who is quiet and sheds tears for a moment and then picks up the sword and fights again.” - UnknownI stare at Kane’s unconscious form, gently stroking his fingers as I lay my head on his bed.“Please, wake up Kane. I need you.”But of course, he doesn’t. This isn’t like some movies where the male lead wakes up, kisses his beloved and they live happily ever after. This is real…and I hate it.The door to Kane’s private room opens and I do not have to turn to know who it is.“Lily.” It is Ian. He is here to pick me up.I sit up and give Kane a peck on his forehead but he does not stir. Sighing, I stand up and straighten my blouse.Then I turn to face Ian and say, “Let’s go.”I need to see Rose. I have an inkling she was
LILY’s POVThe hour is late and the casino is doing well. It is a full house tonight with patrons all abuzz with excitement as they enjoy drinks and try their lady luck at the gambling table. I should be happy, money is rolling in.But I am not.Instead, what fills my heart is a sense of dreaded anticipation. I stand in my office with the lights down low as I drum my fingers against the full-length glass that overlooks the gambling den.Three days ago, Dr Chase had done a swab on Rose and sent her DNA to the hospital lab for analysis to determine if the unborn child truly belongs to Kane. If all goes well, I should be expecting a call from Dr Chase any time now.I turn away from the glass window and look at the plain white clock hanging on the wall. The second-hand ticks away all too slowly, as if it is taunting me.I sigh. I hate waiting.The phone rings and I jump. Clenching my jaw, I walk towards the phone ever so cautiously.
CHAPTER 61“One lie has the power to tarnish a thousand truths”– Al DavidLILY's POVOnce upon a time, I championed a vision. A vision where life would be full of smiles and handshakes, a vision where life would be only a bed of roses. And as a child, I had told father of my dreams to live such a life and he would always laugh in return, ruffling my hair before stooping to my then childish height and tell me, “Lily, have you forgotten that even a bed of roses will have thorns?”Father was right. There is no such thing as a perfect world full of happily ever after. Worlds like that exist only in fairy tales. The time for dreaming is over and I need to wake up.I need to wake up and realize that life is while life may not have turned out the way I wanted it to, I must stay strong.It has been an agonizingly long week and Kane has yet to awaken. I will not go into the night, I
LILY's POV “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ―Lao Tzu The room falls silent and every pair of eyes in the room follow my steps when I make my way to the head of the table. I stop there with my feet rooted to the ground and let the silence hang as my eyes roam the room, returning everyone’s gaze. Some of the men nod at me wordlessly, giving me the assurance that they stand by me; others avert their gazes when my eyes meet theirs, they do not trust me. Then I see Russo and Ian, their eyes tell me everything. They believe in me. Even Big Bob whom I thought would side Tore gives me a fist pump and a smile. In doing so, I am filled with a feeling of both gratitude and confidence. I am filled with hope. I am filled with a surge of both gratitude and confidence. “Gentlemen, we stand here victorious against the traitor Sergio who paid the ultimate price for his betrayal. We