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Giovanni
PLAYLIST: ? APOCALYPSE - CIGARETTES AFTER SEX ?
I’ve killed many times.More times than I can count. The number’s easily in the triple digits. But there’s admittedly something unsettling about killing your own blood. Uncle Claro was bad enough. Even though he deserved it after all the shit he’d pulled.
Giancarlo is a different story.
I’ve struggled with what to do, how to feel. My brother not only attempted to take over my life, but he forced himself on the woman I’ve fallen in love with. It’s an irredeemable, reprehensible offense. I can never forgive or forget what he’s done. I can only feel the heat of rage whenever I look at him. Whenever I close my eyes, the images from that video flash in my mind. A reminder ofmyfailure.
Giancarlo’s a cracked shell of his former self, so brutalized his life’s over. I’ve tortured him to the point of unconsciousness, sliced off pieces of his body, burned his flesh for fun. I’ve made him suffer in many different ways just to make him feel as helpless as he made Falynn.
So that he knows what it’s like to lose total control over your body.
There’s no happy ending for my brother. We both know it.
As we dispose of Claro, I turn to him, aware I can never let him live. He must die, not only because of our rivalry. He must die because it’s the last way to pay for what he’s done.
Giancarlo doesn’t protest. He doesn’t beg. In fact, he seems at peace when the moment comes. We’re miles outside of the nearest city, among upstate New York’s rolling hills, with nothing but the interstate in the distance.
Claro’s body’s been dumped. Giancarlo’s is next.
“I’ve wondered when you would,” he says, his expression apathetic. “Ma will be happy. She can finally make me take her hand.”
“You think you’re both going to the same place?” I ask. I’m genuinely curious—Giancarlo’s been haunted by our mother for years now. While I forced down any grief over her death, Giancarlo never recovered. If anything, it made his mental problems that much worse.
“You really think you go upstairs when you take your own life? She killed herself. Did you know that? Pa always said she was murdered. That wasn’t true.” Giancarlo peers out at the rural landscape as if he’s giving it more thought. “But what does it matter? She died because of him either way. He drove her to do what she did.”
“Ma’s life was a short and sad one. You will not use her to gain my sympathy.”
“You misunderstand me, brother. That’s not my intention. I realize I fucked up. If I were a better human being, I’d say I’m sorry.”
“You’d be wasting your breath on an apology. I don’t forgive you. I never will.”
“It would be a lie,” he goes on as if I haven’t said anything. “I don’t regret what I’ve done. Not to you. Not toher. I needed to know what it was like—how does it feel to be you. Every part of your life. I found out and I’m glad.”
“Shut up,” I growl. “I don’t need to hear any more. This is the end.”
I make it quick. He draws his last breath as I press the barrel of my gun into the back of his head and pull the trigger. The life’s already gone from him by the time his body drops to the ground. I’ve killed the last member of my immediate family. I’m the last one standing.
No other kill has been harder than this one, leaving me no sense of real victory. There are no winners in a situation as difficult as this one. I mourn my brother for a silent moment, and then I do what I have to do and move on.
I have a throne—and a woman—to return to.
From the first moment I saw Falynn on that stage at the Dollhouse, I was captivated. At the time, in my mind, it was nothing more than intense lust. A gorgeous naked woman dancing seductively, twining her body along the metal pole like an enchantress from another planet. My cock jerked in my pants, telling me I needed to shove it inside her pretty mouth and then deep in that warm pussy.
But, now, I know there was something else special about her from the first time I laid eyes on her—she was too good for the life she’d been dealt. Too beautiful to be on that stage ogled by drunken, disrespectful men. Too full of life to be in dark, seedy clubs where she’d lose her spark the longer she stayed. Maybe I’d kept her that night, not just because I wanted my dick sucked, but because I’d wanted to save her from Sin City’s hold on a bright, young girl like her.
She’d still be scrambling to make ends meet if I hadn't. She’d be on the laps of strange men, being pawed at for a few bucks.
She deserves, hasalwaysdeserved, better. My subconscious must’ve known it too.
As I return to Vegas in my private jet, I peer out at the city’s glitzy lights. Guilt’s an anchor in my chest the more I think about her. I might tell myself I’ve saved Falynn, giving her a luxurious life with designer threads and dinners at five-star restaurants, but there’s no denying I’ve failed her in more important ways.
I’ve emotionally neglected the woman I love. I’ve made her feel unwanted and cast aside. I walked out on her as she begged and cried for me to stay. In her mind, she’s at fault; she thinks she must’ve done something for me to distance myself.
She couldn’t be more wrong. A normal, caring man would’ve reassured her. He would’ve stayed with her, taken care of her in such a vulnerable moment.
I’m not that man. I’m a cold, ruthless asshole who only knows how to solve problems using wealth and power. I handle situations with violence and bloodshed.
