Chapter 19

Do you remember who you were before the world told you who you had to be?

I was drinking my second glass of vodka when the door opened.

Outside it had been dark for a long time and the moon shone in the sky, huge and round, it reminded us that we were nothing.

Obviously it was my brother. Only my family could come into my office without knocking. After all, before being a businessman, I was first a brother, a son, a nephew or even a cousin.

Except for her. For her I was only her rafisseur and yet, yet she stood up to me. Her little body provoked me just by her presence here when she should be serving in a brothel like all the others.

This girl had taken way too much freedom.

- You wanted to see me ?

- Yes indeed, I answered in a gloomy voice.

Vinchenso poured himself a glass of vodka. It was cliché, but it was true. All Russians drank vodka.

My first glass I held in my hands at eleven years old.

Now I was twenty-five and yet I still saw myself at that time. The time of the break between the toddler and the man. For some it might seem too early but I was the eldest son, I was the worthy successor of my father. I had obligations.

He sank into an armchair, the same one which, a few hours earlier, had been occupied by the Rosefield girl.

- I'm listening to you

- I saw you talking to him, I said without realizing it.

The words came out on their own. They sprung out of my mouth and lined up on their own to create a sentence.

Vin smiled behind her clear crystal glass, a flash of childish slyness in her eyes. My brother has always been the most mischievous in our family.

Finally, it was always him who hatched bad plans and as soon as I followed him on his adventures, it ended badly.

I remember that time when he decided to paint our father's office pink because he had forbidden him to go out.

We were done with hot cheeks and my dad's office half painted.

Now he too has grown up. He still has some facial expressions, memories of his restless childhood, but it is no longer the same. He is more serious, more down to earth.

And suddenly, I had the impression of having, over the years, exchanged my role with that of my brother.

Now he's the serious one and I'm the devil. Of course, as a kid, I was not insensitive to the charm of rebellion! But I had other things to do than be perpetually at war with parental authority.

And then I had to be a model for my brother and for her.

My little sister.

I shook my head.

Cursed memories.

I had stopped living in the past a long time ago. In reality, the less I thought about it the better I felt.

But sometimes I would dive back into it simply because of an object, a place or a situation.

That was the magic of memories, without your consent they had eaten away at part of your soul.

My memories were now part of me and they would forever haunt me.

Even though I was the head of the mafia, I couldn't do anything about it.

- Yes that's right, even if in my opinion we can't really call it a discussion

- I want to see her suffer, I confessed to my brother.

I didn't look at his head so I was lost in the contemplation of my glass, causing the liquid to flow from right to left of the open cylinder.

I didn't need to see him to know his reaction. I knew my brother better than anyone. I had grown up with him and his facial expressions after all.

- You shouldn't do this

- Why is that ?

- Because it's not her Vladimir. You carry the hatred you have for Sonya against this girl.

My brother was calm, as always. Me, I was nervous.

His words were neither true nor false. However, I don't know why they pissed me off so much.

I was angry speaking, totally unstable.

In other words, I was temperamental.

- IT'S WRONG ! I yelled as I stood up.

In a fit of blood I threw my glass against a wall of my office.

It crashed against the imposing pile of painted bricks and its debris crashed to the ground.

My brother got up and before leaving gave me a last annoying reply of which only he has the secret:

- You know I'm right brother, only you're not ready to accept it yet. You're just running away from the truth so you don't have to face it.