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| Corrupted Soul | Started by: VittorioDeLuca on Jan 05, '19 12:23 |
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Vittorio sat in the bar- his hands clasped, head down. The speakeasy was empty. All that was there was his thoughts, and a sound? A sound he couldn’t pinpoint. Drip, drip, drip. He focused and tried to listen, trying to find the source of the sound. Drip, drip, drip. He stood up, and the sound suddenly stopped. He gave it a minute, before sitting back down. Drip, drip, drip. “What in the god damn fuck!” He cried out, smashing his hands on the table. He looked down, and saw it. He saw the blood drip from his suit pants. Until his bar stool, was a small pool of blood. He put his head on the table, and back into his thoughts of what just occurred. Vittorio arrived home at 12:00 AM. He knew he was in for a rumble. His wife, Marzia, had almost given up in their marriage. Things were so good, for so long. They met in High-School and fell in love. She stayed with him through it all. Through his unemployment stents, everything. But this, this thing, she couldn’t stand by. Every time Vittorio would catch her starring at him, he saw nothing but disgust now. He saw the hatred in her eyes. Ever since he joined La Cosa Nostra, all she had was hatred. Vittorio assumed his wife would be proud. He wasn’t a bum anymore. He could be an actual man- and provide for her and their two kids. He could give them the life he always dreamed of giving them. But all she saw him as was.... nothing. Her once beautiful blue eyes, had turnt into a cold, dark place. Once a beautiful place of beauty, that resembled a waterfall, now looked like a dried up lake. It perfectly resembled the state of their marriage. Dry and completely empty. Vittorio walked trough the door. He wasn’t sober. He had been drinking throughout the day, preparing for this situation he was about to enter. He tried to stay away as long as he could. But the second he opened the door and saw her, he knew it was all about to blow up. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding. Earlier that day he had to do a shakedown. Things got a little violent. She noticed instantly. “What a man.” She muttered. She simply shook her head, and started to walk away. Vittorio felt nothing but anger and hatred for the women he once loved when he heard this. He’d always try to keep his mouth shut with her, but he couldn’t. The fuse was lit. He quickly ran behind her and grabbed her arm. “What do you want me to do? Huh? What in the fuck more do you want?” He paused, feeling his blood begin to boil within. He could feel her start to shake. He’d never touched her like this in his life. “What else do you want? Just a few months ago we had nothing! You looked at me like a bum then! Now that I give you everything you ever wanted, and you still look at me with that same god damn look!” She gave him a smirk, and chuckled a little. He did not like that, not one bit. Before he could speak, she cut him off. “You’re not a man.... You never have been. My father was right. You’re a loser. Out of all the men in the world- I end up with you.” She began to walk away. Only if she could see his facial expression. He was seeing red. She had just let the bull out. He had the look of a killer. Hell, satan himself may have been scared of that look Vittorio had on his face that night. He began clenching his first so hard, his nails began to go deep into his skin. She should have stopped right there. Because what was about to happen next, was something Vittorio would never forget, and would regret forever. She turned around, and saw his state of mind. All she could do was shake her head. “What did I ever do in life- to deserve a loser like you? A weak killer. A man who does anything for money. A man who puts his little crime family above his own.” Tears started to pour down her diamond shaped face. “You’re a cancer.” She cried out. Vittorio had enough. He couldn’t handle the words anymore. After months of just taking it, he lashed out. He ran right up to her, and struck his wife straight across the face, before taking his belt off and whipping her over and over. She pleaded for help, but Vittorio wasn’t himself. He couldn’t hear a word she was saying. The cries didn’t even touch him. He heard them everyday. You get used to them, he always told himself. He kept swinging. He felt something from behind try to pull him off her, but he paid it no attention. The screaming got louder and louder, until he finally snapped out of it. Her screams had stopped. She gave in. No, it wasn’t her. He finally listened and heard “Daddy stop!” Over, and over as his youngest son tried his hardest to his father off of his mother. His sister and him were crying, and pleading with their father. When he looked down all he could see was his wife’s hands up, and she tried to cover her face. Vittorio felt sick. Everything began to slow down. As his kids cries got louder, they ran over to comfort and help their mother. Vittorio was in a daze. He looked down at the children he loved and birthed. The children he was living the life he was living for. “Don’t hurt us daddy!” They yelled over and over. Vittorio tried to run, but he was in too big of a haze. He tripped over objects scattered on the floor. He rushed out the door the moment he got up, and fell down the short stair steps as he made it outside. He quickly tried to put his keys in the car, but was unable too as his violent shaking episode wouldn’t end. He finally was able to start the car. He booked it. He headed for the only place he knew he’d be alone. What has he just done. He tried to replay the scenario over and over in his head. The scene of his own children, pleading for their dad not to hurt them haunted him. The women he once loved, putting her hands up, as she began to cave in to the beating. It was all too much for him, as he began throwing up violently. He softly cried to himself. As he sat in the bar seat, another question arised. Why was he bleeding? He tried to replay the scene again one last time in his head, until it struck him. He put his leg on the chair, and pulled the pants up, showing him the scene of his wound. It was a stab wound. You could see clearly where the blade had sliced him. It hit Vittorio. His son. It wasn’t the screams that caught his attention, it was the pain he felt. Once he felt it, he snapped back into reality and his kids screams took his attention. His son had stabbed him, because he feared his own father was about to kill his mother. Vittorio broke down in the bar. Nobody could hear him whimper and cry. This was what sorrow truly felt like. What being truly isolated felt like. He lay on the ground, curled up like a child. He picked himself up, and did all he knew how to do. He picked up a bottle from behind the bar, and drank until he wasn’t awake- until he couldn’t feel the sorrow and pain in his heart. Until all the worlds problems disappeared. His mother was right, he was just like his father. |
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Gavin saw VittorioDeLuca drinking hard- too hard. As the stranger guzzled the bottle, Gavin slid onto the stool next to him. "Tough night, pal? Can pretty much guarantee you're not finding any answers at the bottom of that bottle there. What happened?" |
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| Reply by: GavinAndTaraByrne at Jan 09, '19 05:15 | |
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Clown was having a bad day at the office,, and was really frustrated and angry ,very smashed from drinking thinking suicide possible and was even going to do it . Until he thought theres more to life and decides to go home and nap instead' |
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| Reply by: Clown- at Jan 13, '19 22:33 | |
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