“mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa”
yandere mafia oc x sexworker reader | oc: luciano magnotti (visual) | accompanying short comic | navigation | 7.0k wc | unedited
tw; yandere, female reader, misogyny, kidnapping, past domestic abuse, past child abuse, coercion, unhealthy relationships, murder, slut-shaming, religious themes, delusion, unhealthy ideas of masculinity, religious trauma, sexual harassment
1.
The silence of the library left ample room for the outside rain to be heard, it was getting heavier with every passing second. The weather forecast didn’t let you know that god was unleashing another flood upon mankind. If it had, maybe you could have avoided mutilating your umbrella beyond recovery by staying at home. But now that you were already here, miserable, wet, and with no means of returning until the rain let up—you decided to make the most of it.
‘Crime and Punishment.’ Your eyes lit up as you finally found the book, cursing whoever arbitrarily put it amongst the titles beginning with ‘J’ instead of ‘C’ while reaching for it. Unfortunately, your victory was short lived, someone else beat you to it by mere seconds.
Looking to the side, an awkward regret washed over you as a man stared back, his hand still on the book not yet taken out of the shelf.
“Uh…” ‘Just apologise and leave’, you told yourself like a mantra as your brain tried to formulate words.
“I—.”
“I didn’t see you there, sorry. Were you also looking for this book?” He asks while pointing to the copy of ‘Crime and Punishment’ now in his hands.
“Oh—um, yes but it’s okay! You reached for it first.” Examining the man in front of you more carefully, he looked like a student—young, well-dressed and holding a book that was definitely part of some mandatory curriculum. He introduced himself as Luciano, around your age and not, in fact, a student—although he didn’t describe his job in much detail either. Luciano was a soft spoken man with his dark brown hair, hazel green eyes and a general air of mystery about him. Your opinion of him was definitely helped by the fact that he encouraged you to have the book as he had already read it before and after hearing of your misfortune with the rain, insisted you take his umbrella.
“My car's in the parking lot right outside so I’ll be fine, you should take it.” He could’ve offered to drive you, insisted on it, but he didn’t and you appreciated that. What with being strangers to each other, in spite of the positive first impression, and all.
You relented in the end, somehow managing to exchange phone numbers while trying to express your discomfort with just taking his umbrella and offering nothing in return.
“It’s been so long since I enjoyed talking with someone this much, let’s do this again.” And so, with a promise to meet again sometime soon, you set off.
On your way home, book safely tucked in your bag and Luciano’s umbrella in hand, you felt bittersweet as your apartment complex finally entered into view. As if you had defrauded a kind man that did nothing to deserve it. These things always go the same: meet someone, hit it off, start thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’ve finally met the one but then they find out what you do for work and suddenly it’s like a switch flips. You aren’t the ‘pure and innocent’ woman they imagined and therefore not quite worth their devotion. Because according to their logic—women like you, sex workers, are to be used and tossed aside, not brought home.
It’s hard to consider the ‘morality’ and ‘propriety’ of it all when you’ve not eaten in a few days so you try not to think about it. You weren’t harming people or resorting to crime, you earned whatever little you had but as your phone screen flashed with a notification from Luciano—asking if you had made it home safely—you could already picture his reaction to your job being as extreme as those of the men you had met in the past.
2.
The following weeks, you two would meet whenever your schedules aligned. During those get-togethers—it felt improper to call them dates—Luciano would occasionally ask about your childhood, whether you had any family, or what you thought about one book or the other. To your relief, he didn’t ask about your job and so you never brought the topic up either, even if it weighed on your conscience at times.
“I thought you were a student the first time we met.” You stated, recalling the first meeting.
“Me? Oh no, I dropped out quite some time ago.” He sounded somewhat ashamed when admitting to it.
“I’m sure you could go back and get a degree.” Your attempt at comfort didn’t land all too well as he chuckled bitterly and replied.
“It's too late for me now.” His tone shifted when saying this. What exactly made it sound so off? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. If you had figured it out earlier, maybe you would’ve left while you still could—changed your name, left the city, never involved yourself with Luciano or anyone even remotely affiliated with him. But you didn’t. Instead you began fantasizing about a better future, one that was always above your station.All while sitting side by side in the late evening with him as you admired the sunset, listening to the small excerpts of his childhood that Luciano would occasionally indulge you with.
“You used to get picked on as a kid? No way!” Your reaction elicited a laugh from the male.
“I was a total wimp.” Despite the nature of the memory, he recounted it with an air of nostalgia, as if it were something pleasant.
“In the end, I’d hide behind my little sister or go running to my mother and she’d comfort me ‘til I stopped crying.” Looking at his face, you could see a small smile forming, one dripping with unmistakable fondness.
3.
Luciano couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. How long had it been since he last spoke with a normal person?
“Boss, the mayor called earlier today sayin’ he’d be there tonight.” A familiar face, his assistant, said apprehensively—his eyes cast down and set on the floor as he realised his mistake far too late. Luciano had made it abundantly clear how much he disliked them calling him ‘boss’ like some stereotypical mob lowlives. The brunette was many things but he refused to be considered a criminal on top of it all, he wasn’t like that—he didn’t do it out of a twisted craving for violence or power like most men around him. He was nothing like them.
“Well then? What’re you standing here for? Go make preparations for it, Antonio.” People like Antonio don’t get it until you spell it out for them in a language that they understand, Luciano thought as much. Because he saw the way they looked down on him, judged him to be frail and feminine by his appearance, so he compensated like this. How else was he to protect himself? After all, there is nothing worse than a weak man incapable of protecting his family, that’s what his father always said before dying.
The library was meant to be a short break, something routine, and yet he approached someone he had no business involving in that filthy line of business of his, he was getting greedy. But Luciano made up his mind—you were so sweet, so pure, he couldn’t bear to repeat the same mistake once more so he was going to end things. Decisively cut contact and only looking back on you as a fond memory from the past.
4.
It was a common occurrence to see public figures at the club you worked at. Whether it’s policemen, priests or politicians—nothing surprised you. So when the new mayor was amongst the men in that room with his hands wandering all over Bianca, barely nineteen and doing sex work to afford a living, you weren’t surprised.
Her discomfort was evident as she looked your way distressed, so you prepared to step in. Planning to tactfully get the mayor’s attention so she could slip out for a bit. That’s when your gaze fell to the man next to the mayor, clad in a dark suit and previously immersed in whatever conversation the two men were having—now, his dark brown hair shuffled somewhat as he glared straight at you.
It was Luciano.
It felt as if the whole world stopped moving. For a second all you could register were those familiar hazel green eyes of his. Yet, when they stared back, it was a look devoid of any of the warmth you became accustomed to.
None of the men that came to that nightclub were good news and if Luciano could get one-on-one time with the mayor, he most certainly wasn’t company you would want. Thankfully, he turned back to entertaining the mayor which allowed Bianca to slip away without your intervention and permitting you to blend into the background, foolishly hoping that he forgets you were even there.
The rest of the night went by peacefully, aside from the growing pit in your stomach that is. As the men began exiting little by little, you prematurely breathed a sigh of relief. This mistake soon became evident to you as someone behind you—it wasn’t hard to guess who—gripped your forearm. The sudden act elicited a yelp from you, causing some of the people ahead to turn back with equal parts concern and curiosity.
“Leave us.” Unfortunately, those words were all it took from Luciano, whose hand was still securely placed on your arm, for everyone in that room besides you two to leave.
“You’re a hooker?” He spoke, grip still on your arm as if you’ll run away the first chance you get—an assumption not entirely inaccurate.
“The proper term is sex worker.” You could see the gun tucked under his suit jacket, in fact, most of the men there that night had one attached to their hips. Knowing that, you still couldn’t help correct him.
“Is that really what you should be focused on right now?” No part of the harshness in his tone that night reminded you of the gentle, soft-spoken Luciano you had met in the library. In fact, if someone told you that the man in front of you was an entirely separate person from the one in your memories, you might just believe them.
“You’re a criminal, do you really think you’re in a place to judge?” You’re going to die, you thought. This much recklessness was unusual, even for you. But you just couldn’t stand the way he looked down upon you—as if you were committing the gravest sin one could. Ignoring how he, or whichever one of the many men he kept in his company, had requested your presence there in the first place. As if he wasn’t the one attending a back-alley meeting with the mayor, at a nightclub with a gun attached to his hip.
Your words struck a cord with Luciano, if his reply was anything to go by. “I’m nothing like them.”
His voice cracked as he spoke, tone unsure of the words leaving his own mouth.
“I didn’t realise they made exceptions just for you—.”
“Do not lump me in with scum like them when you don’t know anything.” Whatever little restraint he had by then vanished as he began raising his voice. Perhaps in some last ditch attempt at intimidation, you presumed, by that point unsure of who he was trying to convince but you didn’t stick around to find out. His reaction was nothing new, it was similar enough to other men you had encountered in the past that you felt no need to hear him out further. You stormed out before he, or anyone else really, could stop you—taking advantage of the chaos at the nightclub to shuffle between the crowds of people unnoticed. Holding in your urge to speed out of the building as soon as humanly possible, largely to avoid attracting any further attention as Luciano’s associates had yet to leave. Instead, you calmly ordered a taxi while exiting so that you could make it home as soon as possible, lest things get violent as they often did in these instances. Only messaging Bianca afterwards so she wouldn’t worry when she realised you were no longer at the club.
5.
Going to church wasn’t a habit you upheld religiously but as a child largely raised in an orphanage attached to a church, going there brought you peace. A peace that you desperately needed at present because nothing good would come from being alone. And so, you tried to wash away the exhaustion from last night's events and dressed in your best, church-appropriate clothes.
It was out of the ordinary for you to visit the orphanage on a Sunday during the morning mass when most attendees were retired and elderly so the children couldn’t help failing to contain their surprise.
“Big sis, you’re here!!” Announced one of the younger boys, the sheer excitement on his face quickly reflecting on yours as well.
“Dani!” You called back towards the boy, opening your arms to invite him, and the other children, into a hug. God knows you needed it.
“Big bro Luci’s here and now you too, sis! Today’s the bestest day ever!” Declared Alma, another of the orphanage children, from within your embrace.
“Luci?” That name didn’t ring a bell so you rightfully looked towards the much older nun that watched over the children, sister Maria.
“He’s a young man that comes by and plays with the children every so often. I’ve been meaning to introduce you but you’re both such a nightmare to get a hold of!”
“It’s okay! I’ll introduce you to him, big sis!” Alma interrupted, now holding your hand with her own much smaller one as she dragged you towards the main church with strength that a little girl her age had no business having.
At the same time, sitting in the church pews, Luciano’s mind similarly kept wandering to the events of the previous night—he had thought of you as pure, as above him. The kind of woman that would rightfully turn her nose at discovering who he truly was, which you did, but you yourself were no saint either. Granted, his reaction was nothing to applaud, he acknowledges that much, but the way you had stormed out, that finality in your every step, it left him with an unresolved conflict in his heart. One that was all too familiar to Luciano by now. He had replayed similar scenes in his mind over and over again, what-if scenarios with alternative choices that could have changed the outcome so that he wasn’t left all alone again and again.
“Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted.” Luciano was unsure why that particular verse stuck with him but he felt invigorated, the remainder of the sermon quickly blending into the background as he rushed out of the building with the urgency of a man that would die if he didn’t fulfill his objective that very instant. It’s almost as if god was on his side as he spotted you with the children. Seeing you embrace them so lovingly reminded him once more why you became all he could think about so suddenly. You weren’t perfect but he could help, he could protect you from the cruel and ugly facets of the world so that you don’t need to return to that life of depravity anymore. Luciano didn’t have to lose you, he wouldn’t.
“Oh! Big bro, you’re here!!” Alma spotted him from across the courtyard, pointing at him with zeal as Dani ran to grab him—not that Luciano was going anywhere, there was no need for him to when you were right there, kept in place by Alma’s smaller hand. You stared back at him with part disbelief and part terror, an emotion that was entirely misplaced if you ask Luciano.
“You’re Luci…?” You asked once he was dragged close enough by Dani.
“It’s the nickname my mother gave me as a child.” He answered bluntly, eyes not wandering from your face for a second. “That’s beside the point, I need to talk to you.”
You didn’t look thrilled at the prospect but surrounded by the curious eyes of the children and sister Maria, you reckoned that making a huge fuss would benefit no one. You patted Alma on the head in farewell and offered a nod towards the sister before following Luciano straight towards his parked car. Not your smartest decision but you were dealing with a volatile man who had access to unfathomable amounts of weapons and power, neither of which you wanted used in front of the children or their elderly caretaker.
Once inside, you were quick to change your tone as you weren’t thrilled at the prospect of being alone with him so soon. “What was it that you wanted to talk about?”
Luciano however didn’t reply to your inquiry, opting instead to manoeuvre the vehicle out of the parking and drive through unfamiliar streets until urban sprawl disappeared into the distance, replaced by untouched landscapes. The car was driving fast enough that even if you somehow disabled the child-lock, exiting it would be suicide so instead, you tried to ascertain what fate awaited you on arrival to your destination by observing the man on the wheel. Unfortunately, his appearance offered you no clues until he began talking.
“[name], I wanted to apologise f’r how I spoke to you last night, it wasn’t right of me—” Luciano’s neutral well-spoken accent wavered slightly, giving way to an undeniable country dialect that you presumed was from his upbringing in a farming town. It had its own charm and had he stopped his sentence there, you might’ve actually forgiven him but the brunette continued. “—You’re someone I can’t bear to lose so it’s only right I stop deceiving you. After all: If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” Weird sermon aside, you were quite puzzled as to what more he could possibly confess to after last night’s revelation.
“You remember when I told you I dropped out of university, don’t you?”
“Yes…” You replied apprehensively.
“I used to study medicine back then, before I dropped out. I thought that maybe if I saved enough people that way that I would be forgiven for my sins.” He paused briefly, letting out a bitter laugh before continuing. “That didn’t work out, obviously—my mother fell ill so I dropped out to support her and my little sister, Lucia. You would’ve gotten along with Lucia.”
You looked outside the passenger window in hopes of his tangent ending faster.
“I tried everything, construction jobs, deliveries—but it just wasn’t enough. Mama looked worse every time I visited and Lucia, god I couldn’t even look her in the eye. You have to understand, I hate violence, it reminds me so much of him—oh I hate it, I hate it. But I had no choice.” His voice sounded more desperate, laced with pure vitriol when referring to ‘him’, whoever that was.
“One of my coworkers introduced me to this…this ‘line of work’. I realise it’s the exact opposite of what I moved to the city to do, but it’s not my fault! I was desperate, desperate enough to call those violent scumbags my brothers.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened but even that couldn’t conceal the way his hands shook.
“Mama died soon after—d’you know what her last words were to me? ‘You’re exactly like your father.’ After seventeen years, the first time she spoke to me eye-to-eye and that’s what she said! But I didn’t mind because she was my mother—who I swore to protect.” Luciano’s eyes were glazed over with tears, it wasn’t hard to notice how he was doing whatever he could to not cry in that moment.
“What kind of man am I? I couldn’t protect my mother and then I just stood there, like a fool, when Lucia discovered the things I did, the extent I went to for them. She looked at me exactly how you did yesterday, the same way mama did for the first time all those years ago. Suddenly everything I did, every person I harmed, it was all for nothing.” Even now, if he had stopped here, you might’ve made an effort to understand him, to pity the sorry man who sat beside you but he kept going.
“My father would get angry with me when I was younger. He would call me weak and pathetic. He’d say that there was no use for me if all I did was hide behind my mother, that I wasn’t a man. Even told me that he would finish the job himself if I ran away from a fight again. Mama said that if I truly repented, that I would be forgiven but she never looked at me quite the same. They’re all liars. Which is why, this time, I’m going to do things my way.” The car finally came to a stop and Luciano’s gaze was once again dead set on you.
6.
The way in which Luciano’s nose scrunched or how his eyes narrowed seemed almost reasonable—after all, what sane person could remain composed in the face of a murder. However, the problem was that he wasn’t an innocent bystander, rather, Luciano Magnotti—the most brutal mobster the country had seen in its history—was anything but a witness to this brutality.
Surely one loses the privilege to have the ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude he had when they’ve committed as many violent acts as he? His mother sure did think so.
She thought as much from the day her gentle and soft-spoken son first tasted violence by his own hand. That day all those years ago when he killed his own father. From then onwards, it didn’t matter how pitifully he cried for her forgiveness because all she could see was the uncanny look on his face at ten years old as he raised the shattered glass bottle. The little smile on his face as he approached her afterwards, so pleased with himself.
“Mama….” The boy murmured, voice barely above a whisper as he gazed onto the older woman on the floor—his expression somewhat dazed.
His mother, who had laid there writhing in pain just moments prior was now sat up. Still unable to muster the strength to move her body fully, but nonetheless able to witness the act in its entirety. How the bottle had come down with a force she did not know her son, scrawny and weak, was capable of. Even now, her gaze alternated between the slowly approaching boy and blood which gushed out of her husband’s injury, onto the small rug and everything else along its path.
“L-Luci…what have you done?” Her voice gave the impression that she meant to sound firm, not terrified and heaving as she had actually come across.
“He was hurting you, mama.” The boy, now standing in front of his mother, looked down towards an old injury on her leg with an apparent displeasure.
Despite remaining sat on the floor, her son was still just barely her height, the woman noted. Her mind drifted to the time he had come to her sobbing after other children teased him for being so short and weak, however, the distraction was short-lived as Luciano, or Luci as he had been nicknamed for so long, suddenly knelt down and hugged her.
“I was so scared, I just wanted him to stop but he wouldn’t listen. I kept telling him to but he wouldn’t listen!” His demeanor from just moments earlier felt so distant as he now gripped onto her clothes, shaking and beginning to cry as he so often did. The only difference was that this time, he did so covered in the blood of his father.
“The blood, he won't stop bleeding! We have to call someone, we have to get help, if we get him to a doctor in time I'm sure your father will be okay. We just have to get him a doctor.” She rambled on and on uncontrollably, now with finally enough strength to move her son aside and approach her husband.
“But mama, we can’t do that.”
The boy that would hand over his most prized possessions to his younger sister with an earnest smile. The same one that would sit in a corner and entertain himself with scrappy library books because he knew how guilty his mother felt telling him they couldn’t afford to buy him any toys. That same boy, for the first time, spoke to her with such selfishness in his tone, matter-of-factly like it was the most obvious thing.
“The police'll take me away now, won’t they mama? And if you get the doctor he’ll wake up again. That means he’ll hit you again! I don’t like when he hits you mama.” The innocence of his tone was betrayed by the indignant look in his eyes as he stared at the body of the man he once used to lovingly call ‘papa’.
“Mama I don’t want them to take me away from you.” He still looked shaken from earlier, tears in the corners of his eyes as he spoke. It finally occurred to her then, it wasn’t that Luciano couldn’t understand what he had done, he just didn’t see what was so wrong with it.
After that moment, her mind stopped registering things fully as she ran around maniacally trying to get help until all their neighbors had heard the ruckus and crowded in their small home while waiting for the doctor.
Despite their insistent questioning, she kept repeating the same lines like a mantra. ‘Why won’t he stop bleeding?’ ‘Is the doctor here yet?’ ‘Not now, I have to make sure he doesn’t lose any more blood.’ So instead, they turned to Luciano.
“Papa was drunk when he got hurt.” The boy’s words were vague enough that the neighbours started filling the gaps with their own theories, arguing until a common consensus was reached with no input from either of the blood-soaked witnesses.
‘No child should see their father in such a state. It's a good thing Lucia isn’t home.’ Said one of the women, a small sigh of relief exiting her lips as she did.
‘Leaving behind his wife and two children, what a tragedy.’ Another one added, shaking his head as if though already certain the father wouldn’t survive.
‘Luciano, you have to take care of your mom and sister now as the man of the house.’ One of the older men said as he held onto his shoulders.
When the help finally arrived, clearly unprepared for such an incident, a small group of the neighbors spoke with them—their words carried the conviction of somebody who had witnessed the whole thing with their own eyes. Whereas his mother turned from yelling at the neighbors to now the doctor.
Nobody paid Luciano much mind beyond one of the older ladies that with her hand around his shoulder pushed him into her side and absentmindedly stroked his head with her other hand. She would occasionally stop to give her two cents to the discussion.
Any usable evidence had been trampled over during the ruckus and the victim—a known drunk—was long dead. To add to that, an open murder case would reflect badly on a small town like theirs which barely even showed up on maps to begin with. So, in the end, it was labelled an accident with little more thought.
That summer at age ten, Luciano Magnotti, the one responsible for the murder of his father, stood solemnly at the very man’s funeral. Largely unresponsive to the crowd of people offering condolences and advice he had not requested.
Notably, the boy stood quite far apart from his mother who was similarly quiet while holding on to the youngest, Lucia, who looked equally sad moreso due to her mother and older brother’s demeanour than any understanding of the events around her.
Even if the law believed him innocent, his mother could not. From then on, during the day, she would do whatever meagre work came her way and in the evenings roam their house like a zombie in exhaustion. Only breaking her silence to drag her daughter away from Luciano. When asked why, she would never answer. At night, when the delirium cleared, all she could do was pray on her knees for forgiveness. Because some part of her too had hoped for her husband to never wake up again. Because her bewilderment at her son couldn’t make her forget the way it felt a weight had lifted from her shoulders as her husband's sleeping body made contact with the bottle. Perhaps fittingly, a hypocrite and a violent drunkard gave birth to a murderer, she would think bitterly in her final moments.
As an adult, Luciano was much more aware of what he had done—and he sincerely regretted his actions, he really did! Why else would he beg at his mother’s feet every chance he got? Even on the day he was finally leaving for the city.
“Mama…At least look at your son, just this once. Please?” After realising she wouldn’t budge, he would sigh and leave the room to bid goodbye to his younger sister and be on his way to the train station. Stopped by the occasional person awake at such an hour, each complimenting ‘how well he had grown up despite his family situation’ and occasionally teasing him for the stark difference in how he looked as a child to now. Because to everyone else, despite the change in his demeanour, Luciano forever remained the ‘girlish’ boy who would read books in a corner and cry when he eventually got beat by other kids his age for it. But to his credit, he had made it to a good university straight out of high school.
He would work through his studies, whether it was cleaning or construction, no job was beneath the young man who would work himself to physical exhaustion and then do coursework during his lunch breaks to tire his mind as much as his body. The gruelling routine, the occasional interaction with his much older coworkers who would treat him like a son and the admiration from his classmates, it almost made him forget who he was.
The economy was no better now than it was all those years back when his father had first lost his job so a series of unfortunate events is all it took for Luciano to be kicked out of the course. With no more access to student housing or any close friends to help him, crime enveloped him like a predator lying in wait for the very opportunity.
A low-life criminal for a gang. But even as he entered businesses he once worked for, demanding extortionate ‘protection fees’, Luciano liked to think he was above it. His mother can’t work at her age, not when she was inexplicably bedridden, and his sister should enjoy the things other girls her age do, not worry about debts that are never quite paid and bills that don’t stop at any occasion, it’s not his fault that he has to do this.
He’s just doing his job, he would tell himself as superiors praised him and he cruised through the ranks.
“The first time’s always the hardest…” One of the superiors, he couldn’t recall which, said while handing him a gun for the first time.
“…Afterwards, you realise how easy it is—to kill someone I mean. Makes ya’ wonder why people don’t do it more often.” He chuckled cynically as he finished that sentence, looking up to appraise Luciano’s expression.
“I see.” Was all he got in response as Luciano remained lost in thought, gaze focused on the gun in his hands.
“The fuck’s that s’pposed ta’ mean? Man, you gotta stop speaking like you’ve got a stick far up your ass. It pisses me off.” Another of the men said as he wrapped an arm around Luciano. He earnt himself a smile from the latter and a couple of laughs from the others. They saw him like one of their own, like a brother but even when they huddled around him and joked in such a casual manner, Luciano couldn’t help but think he was somehow different. These men, they weren’t like him, they did it for the money and they liked the violence, they liked the way it made men and women alike cower to their demands—he did it to sustain his family, he was different.
Perhaps as a final act of mercy to him or, more likely, to Lucia herself, their mother never told her how exactly their father had died despite the girl’s pleas throughout the years. Nowadays, the topic, along with Luciano’s strained relationship with their mother was largely avoided altogether by Lucia in an attempt to feign a semblance of normalcy. Luciano used to wonder on some days, would she too treat him like their mother if she found out what had truly happened to their father?
He would receive his answer with a slap to the face at his mother’s funeral, from his baby sister, the only person that still called him ‘Luci’ with such endearment.
“This is how you paid for her treatment?!” She asked him in tears, pointing towards the grave their mother finally rested in. For someone that spent so long rationalising his behaviour to himself, none of those excuses would come to his mind in that moment.
“Lucia l—.”
“You said you got an office job—I’ve been living off your dirty money all along?! You’re a criminal, you—!”
“I am nothing like them!” His sudden shift in tone made Lucia flinch but that didn’t stop him from continuing.
“I did it all for you two, every last bit of it was to protect you two. If I hadn’t done what I did, mama would’ve died slowly and painfully until the last breath.” This time, his voice levelled off but now he had a grip on his sister’s shoulders, painful and desperate—as if begging her to understand. Despite knowing that before disease could ever kill his mother, he already left her as a living corpse.
“Don’t ever come near me again—.” She stopped herself from finishing that sentence but Luciano could tell what she wanted to say. ‘You disgust me.’ Her face said as much. His grip loosened in the moment, letting her storm off.
Had Luciano held on more firmly, maybe he would still have a sister. At least that’s what he told himself as he cut down friends and foes alike, each in a more brutal way than the last but still convinced he was above it all.
Offering a small prayer, a habit he picked up from his mother, he would pray for them to finally rest in peace and end with requesting forgiveness for his sins. If Luciano had the time and privacy, he would begin justifying his actions to even god himself.
Despite reaching the top, Luciano had nothing to show for it.
Men of all statuses would bow to him alike, no one daring to offend him and yet he missed the teasing of the other children from his childhood. At least back then, his mother would warmly embrace him afterwards, kissing his every wound sweetly until he would relent.
All the books in the world sat in his office and yet he missed the torn ones from the public library which would fall apart as he read them. At least after finishing those he could proudly share his findings with Lucia who would eagerly listen to it all.
Even that man, his father, at one point used to ruffle his hair affectionately after coming home from work, before he lost it all. But even after that, as he would beat him black and blue, at least there was some sort of emotion there—even if just anger. Now Luciano truly had nothing at all.
That’s the kind of man you awkwardly smiled at, unaware that it was the first smile he received in so long which didn’t conceal murderous intent. That’s the man who you attentively listened to rant about a book not realising how long ago he had last done so.
You offered a man dying of thirst water and now you’re surprised he laps it up with the desperation of someone who would die without it.
7.
Whenever you asked to leave, Luciano would outright ignore you, as if you never said anything to begin with. Sometimes he would let you stroll through the garden behind his villa, always in those frilly sundresses that you couldn’t understand his obsession with. Most of the time, he would bring you books and DVDs to keep you entertained. Anything that couldn’t be used to contact someone else or escape.
The villa itself, despite being the only house for miles, wasn't ridiculously big as you would imagine the home of a single man with more wealth than he knows what to do with would be. Nor had you seen anyone beside Luciano since your arrival.
He would cook for you and let you sleep in a separate bedroom of your choosing, it felt like a nice vacation if you ignored the locked doors. And to your relief, Luciano—for all his talk—never got too close to you. Almost as if he didn’t quite know what to do with you, a hesitation that made you believe you could escape. Isolation began weighing on you after a few days, especially when your only interaction was with an awkward and unstable murderer that would begin preaching at random and even that interaction was largely limited to the evenings when he came home from ‘work’.
Your mind wasn’t at peak performance after being effectively kidnapped and isolated for so long so your escape plan wasn’t the brightest. Truth be told it was quite simple. Luciano always left at a similar time so you waited for an hour or so after his departure before rushing towards the door—your bobby pin enough to get past it. The outside gate was old and rusted in some parts but nothing you couldn’t climb. The real issue was walking towards the nearest city when all you could see was vast stretches of country roads with no sign of civilization. You don’t know what you expected to happen, part of you knew your little escape attempt would fail and did it solely as a ‘fuck you’ to the man that thought he could keep you there but another part of you truly hoped it would work. You missed your shitty apartment, you missed the freedom you’ve had for most of your life living alone, you missed the life you had made for yourself even if it was pathetic, meaningless and lonely at times.
“I don’t think I ask for much of you, [name].” Your heart almost stopped as you heard him. To this day you still don’t know how he found you but he was there regardless, arms wrapped around your waist and his face visibly disappointed.
“Let go.”
“Luciano, let me go, I want to go home.”
“H-Hey—stop!”
“You want to go back?” He seemed to be in disbelief, the mere prospect that you might want to return to your old life was something he couldn’t reason with.
“To whoring yourself out? [name] why is it so hard for you to understand that I’m trying to help you?”
“I don’t remember asking for your so-called help, in fact, I was doing just fine until you decided to take out your unresolved mommy issues on me.” His grip on you tightened at the mention of his mother.
“I really should’ve taken a page from your sister’s book and left when I still had the chance—!”
“[name], that’s enough.”
“What? Struck a nerve? Can’t handle the fact that I’m a human being and not some pure virgin bitch for you to ruin?”
“[name] I’m warning you.”
“Fuck you! You murderous bastard you’re going to rot in h—!” Luciano covered your mouth with his hand, the other one still holding you in place.
“I’m not going to hurt the woman I love but you’re sorely mistaken if you think I’ll let this type of behaviour slide.” He started hauling you towards his car despite your kicks and muffled screams.
“That girl from the nightclub, what was her name? Bianca? The mayor keeps asking me about her y’know? I know how much you care about her so I’ve been holding him off for quite some time now, he’s an animal when dealing with women. It’s pretty unpleasant stuff.” You knew what he was getting at, he didn’t need to continue.
“In a way, you’re right, [name]. I’m not a good man, but I’m fine with that. I'll keep my hands submerged in this filth if it’s for you, if it means you’d just stay with me.” Luciano has this ability to say and do the worst things when he’s desperate but then also expresses so much tenderness in the same breath.
“You don’t realise what’s good for you just yet but that’s okay, you’re confused and emotional. It’s okay.” He was crouched in front of you, who was sitting on the passenger seat facing towards the door, his hands now gently holding your face as he spoke.
“I don’t care what I have to do anymore, I just can’t go back to a world without you in it.” With those words he, for the first time, wrapped his arms around you in an embrace, as if you’d vanish if he let go.
The thing about Luciano is that once he gets a taste, he can’t have enough of it, whether it’s violence, power, or you.
