I’m standing at the door again.
The door to the old house.
So, this must be a dream. No… it’s that nightmare, and I don’t want to go inside the house.
I know what’s waiting for me inside.
I know she’s waiting for me.
I can’t do it. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep holding on to this memory of death, trapped in limbo like a spirit chained to a plane of torture.
My hands move to the door handle, and I turn it against my will. Against the fact that I don’t want to go inside this house ever again.
The door clicks as I push it open. Taking a step inside, I see it’s different. The men aren’t there on the ground with bullet holes in their bodies. There’s no one here. There are no bullet holes in the wall, and someone’s in the kitchen.
The radio is playing like it usually is when I get home. Sorcha likes that love song channel. That’s what it’s on now, and there’s humming. It sounds like her, but I dare not believe it could be.
I walk right up to the kitchen door and stop before I get there, worried that this is a new kind of crazy. Like it really happened this time, and I lost my mind.
I can hear, though, and something inside me wants to see.
I push the door open, and there she is making coffee.
Sorcha’s wearing the little shirt dress I got her for Christmas, and her hair looks like she’s just had it done at the salon. As always, she smiles when she sees me.
“Vinny, look at you. You look tired,” Sorcha says and comes up to me. She stands on the tips of her toes and gives me a kiss.
“Babe, you…”
She saunters back over to the coffee machine and looks over in anticipation. I don’t know what I’m going to say though.
“What?”
“You died,” I whisper.
For a moment, I wish with everything inside me that this could be real. That she didn’t die. That all that horror that happened was the nightmare I just woke from. But when she smiles and looks away, I know this can’t be real.
“I still think the kitchen needs to be redone. Something more earthy. I like neutral colors. It calms the soul.”
“Sorcha…”
She comes back over to me and reaches up to touch my face. “I meant what I said that day.”
“Which day?”
“When we first brought Timothy home and you did that video. You are the love of my life and I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I know. That’s why I need you to wake up. Timothy needs you. They all need you. Vincent, please wake up.”
Wake up…
Her smile fades, then she fades before me as my eyes flutter open.
I take a deep breath and find myself staring up at the ceiling.
“Vincent.” Ava grasps my hand as I stir, but then she pulls away. Tears stream down her cheeks.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Salvatore says. He walks up to me with caution in his expression.
One look at the two of them, and I remember.
“Timothy,” I gasp and bolt upright, nearly falling over. This shit they gassed us up with is still in my system. Salvatore catches me as I stumble over. “Fuck. They have my son.”
“Sit down, Vincent,” Salvatore says, pushing me back down to sit. “He’s okay. Ilya wants you to call. He left a message to call him when you wake up.”
Ava starts crying harder. I look to her knowing she blames herself. It’s not her fault though. It’s mine. What the fuck am I going to do? What the motherfucking hell am I really going to do?
“Get me a phone,” I demand.
Salvatore takes out his phone and gives me a piece of paper with a phone number on it.
I dial the number, and Ilya answers on the first ring.
Fucker.
“Wonderful, looks like you’re ready to take me seriously,” he says.
“You give me my boy back, you motherfucker. I’ll fucking hack off your head if you don’t give him back.”
“And I’ll kill him if you don’t give me the girl. Looks like we both have requests. You’re just being greedy by wanting them both.”
I look at Ava and can’t believe it’s come to this. A matter of choice. This bastard is making me choose between my son and my girl. My girl. There I go again making mistakes.
What am I doing though?
“You fucker, you know this is all wrong. How the fuck can you take him? He’s a baby!” I roar.
I don’t know why I bother. The fucking words fall on deaf ears when it comes to men like him. Look at what he did to Ava. He is truly evil, and this bastard has my son.
“There’s always a way to get what you want, Vincent Giordano. I’ll tell you what. Looks like you need to sleep on it a little more. I’ll call in the morning. You can tell me what your decision is then. Nine o’clock.”
It’s him who hangs up on me this time.
When he does, Ava walks out, and I try to rush to her.
I may be wobbling, but I’m still faster than her. I grab her arm before she gets to the door.
“I’m going to get him,” Ava cries. “Don’t you dare stop me. They want me. Let me go.”
“Stop it. I’ll find a way.” I’m talking out of my ass, pulling words from the air because I don’t have the answer. I don’t know what way I’ll find, but I know I have to find one. Men like him don’t trade. They make their mark by teaching a lesson. If she goes, I lose them both.
“What way? What can you do? Vincent, you know there’s no way around this. He wants me,” she says with a firmness I’ve never seen in her before.
I shake my head free of the daze from whatever shit they knocked us out with and pull her upstairs.
Thank fuck she comes because I don’t want a scene. The fucking shit has already hit the fan, and I need clarity to figure things out. I can’t have the others looking at me. Guilt like never before is already weighing on my soul. My boy is the last thing I have left in this world to live for, and he’s not here.
The fucking enemy has him, and I know they won’t hesitate to kill him.
I take her to my room and practically throw her on the bed.
“Stay there. You stay there and do not move,” I tell her.
“Vincent… you know this is wrong. You can’t keep me in here when I could be the only thing to save him. They want me. Let me go. Just let me go,” she pleads.
“I can’t,” I answer, and it feels like it comes straight from my heart. There has to be a way.
I leave her in there, locking the door. It’s the first time I’ve ever locked her in.
I rest against the wall and bring my hand to my head. What am I going to do?
They have my son. They took my son.
I can’t allow them to kill my son. I can’t let that happen to him. I just can’t.
If I do… I’m dead.