“Where to sir?” the chauffeur asked as he glanced into the review mirror.

“We’re heading on home.” Roberto replied as he leaned back into the long, comfy seat of his limo. “Our job for today is done.”

A few of his main men were riding within his limo, all of them staring blankly at each other, no words being said. Agitated at the silence, Roberto sighed heavily, “What’s with this silence? I don’t really like it… talk, laugh, congratulate one another, we did our job and we did it well.”

At that being said, the men began cheering and bidding each other a job well done. One of the men seated closest to Roberto popped open a bottle of champagne, pouring the bubbling liquid into crystal clear flutes and passing them around to the others, the first glass being handed right over to Roberto.

“Mikey, why don’t you give a toast?” Roberto asked as he rose his glass, glancing over to the man who was seated right beside him. “My right hand man… the one who lead us through.”

Mikey rose his glass, “To another justice served.”

“Justice served!” the other men chorused out as they downed the champagne in one gulp.

Roberto reached out and grasped Mikey’s shoulder, massaging it a bit and patting him on the back. “You do realize how proud of you I am, right?” he asked softly so that the others wouldn’t hear him.

Mickey gave a slight nod, “You remind me time and time again, sir.”

Roberto grinned, “I look to you as if…” he took a long lengthy pause. “I look at you as if you were my own son. You’ve came a long way my boy… the only one of my children to have came through with everything again and again.”

Mikey nodded and smiled. He knew his “children” statement was nothing but a metaphor, but Mikey truly did feel like Roberto was his father. Growing up, he didn’t live in a stable home. His mother had to sell herself just to put food on the table, while his father was never around. Mikey knew there had to be a better way to live his life, and on his quest he found Roberto, who immediately took him in to his mob family. Mikey was only 12 when Roberto had offered to take him under his wing, and now he was 22. He had been working alongside Roberto for the last 10 years of his life.

“Thank you sir.” Mikey replied with a smile.

It wasn’t long until they reached back to Roberto’s mansion, where they all filed out of the limo and right into the enormous estate. Roberto turned to all of his men to address them, “Please fellas, make yourselves at home, help yourselves to the bar. Tonight, we relax and celebrate!”

All of them began cheering once again as they dispersed throughout the mansion. As Roberto stood there to watch his men celebrate, a long time friend of his who was on the phone had approached him.

“Why don’t you have a drink in your hand yet Primo?” Roberto asked as he clasped his hand down on Sergio’s, nicknamed Primo, shoulder.

“I will once we watch our success.” Sergio replied with a smirk. “I just got word that it’s already made breaking news.”

Roberto chuckled and shook his head, “Any murder in Brooklyn makes breaking news. The guy could be a bum off the street that was killed and it’d still make breaking news.” he turned to address his men once again. “Can I have your attention please?” once everyone had quieted down, he continued. “I would like for all of us to make our way into my living room, where we will watch our job well done displayed on the huge screen TV, how about that, huh?”

The men all grabbed their concocted drinks and walked into the living room, where they fixated themselves before the large screen TV. Roberto grabbed his universal remote and had sat down in the large, comfy chair that was placed right in front of the TV. With a grin on his face, he turned his television set on and had switched the channel to 3, where it showcased the breaking news and a female reporter standing outside of the apartment complex they had been at not too long ago.

“… left grief stricken and in shock at the discovery of a grizzly murder that took place not too long ago and has claimed an entire family. The tragic incident occurred right within this apartment complex behind me, and it appears as if the murders were drug and perhaps gang related.”

Roberto scoffed, “I wish they would stop saying that. We’re not a fucking gang.”

“Witnesses say they watched helplessly as a group of men barged into apartment #308 to confront 43-year-old Robert Carter. Neighbors said that he worked at a local car part shop that would close at 9:00 every night, but Robert, or also known as Bob Carter, would come home at the wee hours of the morning. They also mention there had been times where Bob would come home with a company of males and their odd behavior and suspicious activity led people to believe that their very neighbor was involved in something deep.”

The camera cut off to a witness, and Roberto smirked as he realized who the witness was. “He’d be gone all day, and wouldn’t come home till late the next morning.” Mr. Scavelli explained. “We weren’t entirely sure what was going on in there, but we always had a feeling something bad like this would happen.”

The camera then cut to Mrs. Scavelli, who was bawling and trying to ease her sobs. “That poor family… those kids did not deserve this. They were the nicest and sweetest kids you’d ever meet.”

The female reporter came back into view. “Coroners have recovered six bodies and have confirmed them all to be members of the Carter family.”

The smirk that was plastered on Roberto’s face the whole time had quickly faded away upon hearing that information. The reporter had said coroners recovered six bodies, but he could’ve swore there was one more to the Carter family.

No longer paying attention to the TV, he reached into his coat pocket and had pulled out the folded picture he took from the apartment. He quickly unfolded the picture and stared at it, counting each member of the family slowly, one by one. His lips pursed into a fine line at his new discovery. One was still alive.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He had been walking around aimlessly, unsure of what to do with himself. His body and mind were numb, the shock of what had happened hours ago refused to leave his body. His whole family was dead. Murdered. And he was the only one left alive. He wiped angrily at the tears that were flowing once again. How could someone kill his whole family, especially his younger siblings.

For the first time he noticed how hard and fast he was walking, and for a moment he fell into a trance with his feet pounding rhythmically into the dirt ground, watching as red clouds puffed up from where he stomped. With every step he took, he felt a vibration of power shake the earth, and he liked that sense of power, to be able to make the world beneath him tremble. He stopped in his trek, not having a clue where he was, and decided that now was the time to let everything out.

With a blood curling scream, he began to kick at the dirt, watching as tiny rocks and debris flew into the air. He bent down to the ground and had grabbed a rather large rock, throwing it into the oblivious dark. He continued to his rage against the earth, having nothing or no one else to take his anger out on. He wanted to inflict pain on something, anything… transfer the absolute pain he was feeling to something else so he wouldn’t feel so alone. He froze his actions at that thought… no matter what, he was completely alone now.

“God, why?!” he chocked out in sobs as he collapsed to his knees; the sharp, tiny rocks that littered the floor tearing fiercely into the soft skin of his knees, but he didn’t care. He came to the decision that psychical pain felt far better than the emotional pain that was wracking him.

He didn’t like this feeling… the feeling of loneliness and rage that was dancing inside of him. He looked up to the dark night, the faint white rays of the moon shining down upon him, causing his tear-filled eyes to glimmer like the thousands of shining stars in the black sky. In that moment, he felt still.

When he calmed himself down enough, he began to feel a stinging discomfort course through his legs. Sighing heavily, he pushed himself up from the ground and seethed when he felt a stronger stinging sensation hit him. He looked down and could see crimson blood painted on both of his kneecaps, glistening in the moonlight.

He suddenly became heavily transfixed with the sight of his own blood. The blood that trickled from his torn skin was the same blood that was spattered all over the walls of a place he once called home. Although his family was slain, his blood was shed… and he was determined to seek out the very ones who killed him, along with his family.

Drying the tears from his eyes, he began sprinting off into the night, welcoming the sharp pain that had now caused his knees to become numb. He still had no idea where he was, but he knew where he was going. After what seemed like forever, he finally reached his destination, breathing a sigh of relief as he felt the bitter, crisp wind embrace his heated flesh and racing heart.

Standing under the pale rays of the street light, he looked up to the apartment complex that stood before him. He glowered at the now sinister looking structure, feeling extreme disdain towards the ones who took away his life, and all that was in it. Hesitantly, he made his way up to the entrance of the complex, peering in through the glass doors to see the lobby of the apartment looked rather normal, as if nothing tragic had happened hours earlier.

Taking a deep breath in, he placed his hands upon the door and pushed it open, briskly walking in and keeping his head down all the while, in hopes to hide from anyone who might see him and stop him from continuing his trek. He finally reached the elevator and pushed the button repeatedly, wishing silently that the cab would hurry up and pick him up before anyone recognized him.

Finally, the elevator doors slid open, and he quickly maneuvered himself inside the elevator cab, reaching out and hitting the “3” button. When he reached the third floor and the doors slid open, he tentatively stepped out into the hall, looking around to see if anything was out of place. Besides the long stripes of yellow that ran across the doorframe of a place he once lived in, everything looked the same.

Hiding behind the wall, he glanced out to see if the coast was clear. When he realized that no one was around, he quickly made his way over to apartment #308. Glancing around again to make sure he wouldn’t get caught, he reached out and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it to discover that the door was unlock.

Without thinking twice, he pushed the door open and had stepped into the apartment, maneuvering himself through the thick yellow strips of tape that said “DO NOT ENTER”. He quietly closed the door behind him and turned to be greeted by darkness. Blindly, he shout out his hand to the right, groping for the light switch. Once he found it, he flicked it on and immediately shied away at the strong rays of light that blasted out so suddenly.

Through slanted eyes, he could see that the walls were still stained with the blood of his family, and on the ground were chalked outlines of where the coroners found the corpse of his family. He stared down at the first two chalked body outlines on the ground, having a hard time comprehending the fact that two of his family members were lying there in a pool of blood, dead.

He closed his eyes as visions wracked his brain; a vision of his eldest sister running through the hall, calling out for their father only to receive bullets into her back. His mother had ran out to the commotion of her daughter screaming, only to be greeted by the site of her child lying dead. She cried over the corpse of her daughter, but soon received a shot to her head.

He gasped as his eyes flew open, immediately snapping him out of the vision. He bit his bottom lip, willing the tears not to form and for his emotions not to get the best of him. As he continued on through the small apartment, he wandered into their kitchenette, where he found another body outline on the floor. His father immediately came to mind, and he winced as a vision of his father being shot down came to mind. Again, he shook himself of the menacing image and continued on.

He walked through the long hallway, that led back to the bedrooms. He slowed a bit when he noticed bullet holes decorating the walls. Hesitantly, he rose his hand and had let his fingers drag lazily across the small gaping holes, quickly pulling away, as if he could still feel the heat where the bullet had burned through.

He wandered into his and Aaron’s room first to find everything was a complete mess; the guitar he was playing earlier and had neglected to retrieve the groceries laid broken in the middle of the floor. He closed his eyes at that thought… if only he hadn’t went to the shop, he would have been here, he would have been killed right along with his family.

He walked further into his room and straight over to Aaron’s crib, which was destroyed. With shaky hands, he reached out to touch the blanket that was torn up, from what appeared to be a knife. He clenched the soft blanket within his fist, but quickly turned to walk out of his room before his anger could get the best of him.

He closed his bedroom door and had now ventured over to his parents room, which was trashed as well. Besides their broken belongings littering the room, it didn’t appear as if anyone was murdered in their room. He slowly walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving him to stare at the only room that was left in the apartment; his sister’s room.

Taking a deep breath in, he began walking towards his sister’s room, where the door was slightly ajar. He held his breath as he reached out and pushed the door open, wincing at the loud sounds of the door creaking open. He peered into the room to find that the room was destroyed also. He suddenly froze at the sight of the closet area, tears welling up in his eyes upon seeing the closet door decorated with bullet holes and the carpet stained with blood.

His mind forced his body to move over towards the closet, and although he wasn’t prepared to see how his younger siblings had died, he was no longer in control of his actions. As he continued his trek to the closet, his brows furrowed in confusion as the closet door was slowly changing back into normal, with no bullet holes in it and no blood staining the carpet.

He stood there for a while, puzzled at what was happening, looking around to realize that the room was back to normal, everything was in place as it should be. He sighed heavily, this was nothing but a dream… he thought to himself as he turned to walk out of the room to search for his family that would be alive and all okay, but stopped short when he heard a noise come from the closet. He stared long and hard at the closed doors, hearing his sister make a “shhh.” noise.

He smiled a bit, thinking that his sisters were hiding in the closet and were preparing to scare him, but his smile soon faded when he heard commotion going on outside the room. He refused to turn around to acknowledge the racket, instead he remained facing the closet, trying to peer through the shudders to look at his sisters. He heard someone enter the room, but still he refused to turn around. He remained silent and still, waiting for whoever it was to leave the room. When he finally heard the stranger leave the room, he sighed heavily and was about to pull the closet doors open but stopped himself when he heard on of his younger siblings start to grumble.

Just as he reached out to rip the closet doors open, someone had reentered the room, and this time he turned around to face whoever it was. He gasped when he realized that it was one of the suited men he ran into on his way to the grocery store, but this time he was armed and was aiming his gun at the closed closet. He turned back to the closet, knowing he had to act quickly to protect his brother and sisters. Without thinking twice, he ripped the doors open and had thrown himself over his siblings to cover and protect them, but gasped out in pain when his body connected hard with the carpeted ground.

He pushed himself up from the ground, in a slight daze with what had just happened, but found himself gagging and reeling backwards out of the closet at the sight and smell of the blood. This time tears spewed from his eyes like a raging river, and he did nothing to stop it. As if watching a movie, he watched helplessly as the man fired his gun at the closet, hearing the blood curling screams come from his siblings. He quickly covered his ears in hopes to drown out the sound of his family screaming out in pain and for help.

“I’m sorry!” he shouted out to no one, slamming his fists into the carpet. “God, I am so sorry… I should have been here to protect you guys, I should have been here…” he cried out as he curled up on the floor. “I should have been here with you guys. I shouldn’t be alive.”

He remained curled up in a fetal position on the floor, allowing his tears to run dry this time. After what seemed like forever, he was finally able to get his emotions under control. His eyes were swollen and red from crying, but it also burned a fierce, cold blue, filled with utter determination.

“I’m still here.” he said softly as his dark eyes glared at the bloody closet.

He pushed himself up from the ground and quickly regained his composure. He walked throughout the apartment, collecting things he would need in order to survive alone and on the streets. He had no one else to turn to, no other family members, no friends, nobody.

When he finally gathered all he needed, he began making his way out of the apartment, only to stop mid-stride to stare at the shattered picture frame that hung beside their door. Slowly, he reached out his hand to touch the jagged shards of glass, noticing that their picture was gone. He turned to look the place he once called home over one last time before he walked out. He had walked into a broken boy to face reality, and had walked out vengeful, ready to take his life back from the ones who stole it from him.