Monster in Disguise

10. Marcello

Marcello

AGE TEN

" H urry, boy!" Father scowls at me as I try to keep up with his big strides. It's been a month since he's started taking me with him to his meetings with the Pakhan. The first time he took me there was also my first time witnessing him interact with someone outside our household.

The Pakhan is very much like Father. He has the same coldness in his eyes. He also has children, but so far I've only met Misha. He's older than me, but I can't say I like him. He's a bully. He likes to pick on me when there's no one else around. He thinks his words impact me, but after living with Father for so long, I think nothing can scare me. I rarely react to his taunts, and I think that annoys him.

We reach a door and Father gives me a shove inside. "I told you to hurry, boy. I don't have all day." I look him in the eyes without blinking and I nod.

One thing that I've learned when dealing with Father is that he will treat me even worse if I show any sign of weakness or fear. He likes it when I look him straight in his eyes. One might even say he is proud when I stand up to him. Inside, Father is greeted by the Pakhan and they hug, kissing each other on both cheeks.

"Giovanni," the Pakhan says and motions towards some stairs. "I already have them ready for you." A smile spreads onto his face at this, and my father chuckles.

"It's time to show these boys how it's done, wouldn't you say?" He half-turns towards me, and I have the sudden urge to take a step back. Instead, I just steel myself and try to look impervious to anything they have to say or do to me.

"I have to say, I can't wait to see what your boy is made of."

"Vlad is here today too?" Father asks. I'd heard about Vlad before. He is another one of the Pakhan's children, a couple of years younger than me.

"Yes..." The Pakhan grimaces. "I need to discipline him. He killed another one of my guards. Again." He shakes his head and starts walking towards the basement.

I have to wonder what happened to Vlad. Is his father forcing him to be bad as well? Maybe we could be friends.

We go down the stairs until we reach a basement. There are a few doors, and the Pakhan leads us to the furthest door on the right. He opens it, and we follow him inside.

The room is completely empty but for a table on the side. There is something on the table, but I can't quite make it out since the lighting is extremely poor.

A boy is standing next to the table, his gaze fixated on whatever is on top of it.

"Vlad!" The Pakhan's sharp tone seems to shake him out of his reverie, and he slowly turns his head towards us. He walks casually, with measured steps, until he is in front of the Pakhan.

"O tets. " He greets his father with a tilt of his head.

He is slightly shorter than me, with dark hair and black eyes. So black, in fact, they look soulless—empty. His complexion coupled with his features makes him seem like a doll. A lifeless doll that still moves.

I don't know why, but just one look at him and a shiver goes down my spine. Unlike Father and the Pakhan, his eyes don't have that malicious coldness. No, they are just bleak.

The Pakhan seems satisfied with that gesture of subservience and nods to one of the men outside the door. Soon, a man is being brought inside the room by two guards. He is thrashing around, and the guards secure him to a chair. One look at the adults, and I can see they are relishing this. I have an inkling of what is about to happen.

"Giovanni, this one's all yours. For now." The Pakhan mentions, and a smile spreads on Father's face. He goes to the table and picks up something... a knife, I think.

"Felix, you should have known this was going to happen when you spilled our secrets." Father takes a few steps until he is in front of Felix. He holds the knife up so the blade reflects the light, before moving it down Felix's cheek in a caressing motion.

"Let's see what you have to say in your defense." He lowers the gag from Felix's mouth, and he immediately starts saying something.

"It wasn't...." Father takes advantage of this to grab his tongue, and in one swift movement, he slices it. Looking with disgust at the piece of flesh in his hand, he flings it back, and it falls to my feet.

"I think you spoke enough," Father says, laughing at his own joke. The Pakhan joins as well, so do the guards sitting next to the door. Vlad's gaze is focused on the blood dripping from the man's mouth.

"There's no such thing as a pardon here." Father looks at me as he says this. I raise my head higher and try not to show I'm affected by what's happening.

I keep myself calm and controlled as I watch Father maim the man, chuckling every once in a while at a morbid joke.

"That's it." Father throws the knife on the ground and picks up a white cloth to wipe his hands off blood.

The prisoner is writhing on the floor, a few fingers strewn around him, his eye hanging out of its socket. He's still alive, but barely.

Father winks at the Pakhan and settles back, switching the roles.

The Pakhan slowly assesses the situation before picking up a drill from the table.

"Watch and learn, boy," Father says.

I bring my focus back to the Pakhan.

"Some areas on the body bring more pain than others. This isn't just torture. It's a lesson in what happens if you betray us."

With one hand, he grasps Felix's foot and lifts it up.

"See here, the arch of the foot is a very sensitive area." He starts the drill and, locating a middle point in the man's arch, he pushes the drill bit into it. Felix chokes on the pain, making a strangled sound as the drill advances, until the head disappears inside the foot. The pain must be unbearable, because at some point he passes out.

"Fuck!" The Pakhan curses as he realizes that.

"Finish him off and let's eat," Father complains, clearly not impressed with how things turned out. The Pakhan shakes his head in disappointment, and taking a small axe, he severs the head from the body.

"Let's eat!"

Lunch is even worse than watching someone being tortured, if that's possible. Vlad is as quiet as he'd been before, sometimes fixating on something with his eyes. Father and the Pakhan are boisterous, and they just won't shut up. You'd think that at least during a meal they'd shut up about their depraved acts, but it's just another opportunity for them to compete for the title of the most immoral in the room.

Otherwise, I can't explain why they'd talk about the men they've killed, the whores they've fucked, and the money they've made... all illegal, of course. The details are something I have no wish to hear, so I do my best to block everything out and focus on my food. Too bad even my appetite's gone.

After we're done, I'm surprised that we head back to the basement. Even more surprised when I see that there's a new prisoner inside instead of the dead one. This one is pretty much alive and terrified.

The Pakhan explains that the ball is in our court now, specifically mine, since Vlad probably wouldn't bat an eye at killing the man—at least from what I'd heard.

Father lowers his head to whisper in my ear.

"Don't disappoint me, or you'll regret it."

With a slightly aggressive pat on my back, both Father and Pakhan exit the room, leaving me with Vlad, my only audience. I look at the table and then at the prisoner, trying to make my body move and do whatever Father wants me to do. But I can't.

I pick up a knife and stare at it for a second, willing myself to do this, knowing what will happen if I don't. Vlad takes a step forward and tilts his head, studying me.

"You're not going to do it, are you?" His voice is just as empty as his eyes. There's not a trace of emotion in it.

He doesn't wait for me to answer, swiping the blade from my hand and casually walking towards the prisoner.

Whereas before the prisoner had looked terrified, mostly because Father and the Pakhan had been inside too, now he looks smug, probably not intimidated by the sight of two kids with a knife.

But not a second later, blood spurts out from the man's cheek. Vlad is wielding the knife as if he's had years of training. His hand moves and he makes a few more incisions in the man's cheek in the form of a square, effectively cutting a sizeable chunk of skin and revealing both the man's mandible and his maxilla. The rag that had been stuffed inside his mouth to keep him from crying out is also visible now.

Vlad's features are set in consternation as he regards his work. He has the piece of flesh in his hand and he brings it closer to his nose, inhaling the scent. That's just... wrong.

His smile widens suddenly and removing the rag from the man's mouth, he stuffs the flesh in instead.

"Eat," he commands, but the prisoner just looks at him with wide eyes, wildly shaking his head. Vlad's blade trails down the prisoner's torso, stopping at his stomach. The prisoner stills. Vlad goes even lower, and the threat to his crotch makes him grind his teeth against the flesh. The chewing is reluctant at first, but Vlad keeps encouraging him with a nip here, a nip there.

Vlad looks entranced as he stares at the man's jaw work its way around the piece of flesh.

"Haven't you ever wondered..." Vlad starts, his eyes glossy with excitement—the most I'd ever seen from him, "how chewing looks from the outside? We always do it... so naturally. And yet, so many forces are at work."

"Stop!" Vlad commands and the prisoner stops chewing. Vlad looks pensive for a moment, before taking the rag once more and stuffing it inside the mouth of the prisoner.

"What...?" I blurt out, my first words since we've been here. Vlad's knife is already trailing around the man's throat. He seems extremely focused on the position of the incisions. He tries to cut, but the prisoner moves, so he withdraws his knife, shaking his head.

"You," he points at me, "hold him!"

I hesitate for a moment, but end up walking across the room and planting my hands on the man's shoulders, trying to keep him in place.

A small smile tugs at Vlad's lips, but it's immediately gone. He's once again focused on his incisions, cutting from the man's Adam's apple downward. This time, his cut is the shape of a rectangle.

He removes the skin but scowls as he notices there's still more muscle tissue in the way. He stares at it for a second.

"What are you trying to do?" I have to ask.

"Want to see how he swallows," he murmurs, bringing his bloody hand to his chin. He taps his foot impatiently, and I feel the man flinch. I tighten my grip.

Vlad's eyes light up. He takes the rag out and again gives him a piece of flesh to chew on.

"Eat!"

The prisoner does as he's told, slowly munching on the piece of skin. Just as he's about to swallow, Vlad puts his hand up. "Stop!"

With a sudden swipe of the knife, he tears a hole in the man's throat. "Now!" he commands.

I don't know what's happening, except there's blood coursing from the man's throat. He squirms a few more times before he becomes limp under my hold.

"Shit!" Vlad curses, looking decades older than his actual age. If I didn't know what he looked like... I could have sworn that no child could do something like this.

Vlad's hand tightens on the knife, and his features stretch over his face in anger. I blink. In no time, he's on top of the already dead man, swinging his knife in and out. I take a step back.

He's stabbing and stabbing, blood spattered on his face.

"Vlad!" I call out, but he doesn't answer, digging deeper into the man's flesh.

"Vlad!" I yell, and somehow he snaps out of it. He stands up, throws the knife on the ground, and looks at me as if dazed.

There's blood on his face. He lifts his hand, and with one finger he swipes some red liquid and brings it to his mouth, sucking.

My eyes widen at this display.

He's not normal... he can't be normal.

The door opens, and Father and the Pakhan come in. They take in the scene before them, and they immediately zero in on Vlad.

"Misha, take your brother out," the Pakhan orders, and a teenage boy comes in to drag Vlad away. Before he can grab him, however, Vlad leans in and whispers something in Misha's ear that has him blanch.

Vlad lets himself out, and I'm left with father and his obvious disappointment.

"What did I tell you, boy?" His eyes blaze with fury.

"I don't want to kill anyone," I say, my voice full of false confidence.

"You don't want to kill anyone?" he asks me, narrowing his eyes. He then opens the door, taking one guard by the collar and making him kneel inside the room.

"You didn't want to kill someone who clearly wronged us. Let's see how you feel about someone who is innocent." He kicks the guard to the floor. He drags me by the hand until I'm in front of the guard and places a gun in my hand.

"Kill him!" he commands. "Don't embarrass me!" He hisses before closing my fingers over the gun and pointing it towards the guard.

"Kill!" He yells in my ear, but all I can do is shake my head.

I don't want this. I never wanted this.

"Kill, or else, your mother might not sleep well tonight, nor will that thing inside of her," he says, and I can feel my skin crawl. Mother is eight months pregnant. Surely he wouldn't... he wouldn't kill his own child.

But then I look at him. He would... he would kill anyone.

He still senses my hesitation, so he continues to describe in great detail what he will do to her.

"And when her stomach is wide open, I'll take that thing out..." I can't hear this anymore.

I squeeze my eyes shut and press the trigger. I'm jerked back by the pistol firing, and I see the bullet hit the target.

More blood.

The floor is becoming soaked in red.

"I knew you had it in you, boy."

Do I?

It seems I do...

Mother is in labor. It's been a few hours since she started, and I can hear her screams now and then. I don't know what's happening, but father didn't want to send her to a hospital. Instead, he brought a doctor to care for her at home. I don't know how much he's doing for her, though, because she doesn't seem fine to me.

I'm worried. Not because of mother, since at this point I couldn't care less if anything happened to her, considering how much of a presence she's had in my life. No, I'm worried for my sibling. I'm worried something will happen to him or her... I hope it's a boy. A girl could never survive in this house, not under father's thumb.

I'm attentively listening for any noises when a screech reverberates through the house. I open the door to my room and dash towards the first floor where mother is resting. The door is closed. I don't go in. Rather, I move closer to the door and press my ear to it, straining to hear what's happening.

"Push!" someone says, and mother curses at him.

There are more noises before I hear a wailing sound. The sound of a newborn.

I'm still plastered to the door when I see father come. He scowls at me but says nothing as he opens the door and heads inside. I follow.

"It's a girl, signor." The doctor turns to face father.

"Useless," I hear him mutter under his breath, and my fists clench at my side.

Poor babe...

"It's the devil's mark! Take it away from me!" Mother pushes away at the bundle of cloth sitting on her chest.

"It's cursed! It's the devil!" she yells, and against my better judgment, I step forward and take the baby in my arms.

Father is still in the room, sporting a bored expression, but I can see he's assessing my next move.

I look down and see the sweetest face. She's a little red and dirty, but as she opens her eyes to look at me, I feel something tugging at my heart.

I didn't even know I had one.

It's the first time I've felt this... I can't even name it.

My fingers tighten around her small body, wanting to offer her protection, love... Love?

I almost laugh at the thought. I've never loved anyone, and no one's ever loved me. Do I even know what that is?

But as I look into her deep eyes, I think I understand.

She has a big deep red mark that starts just above her eye and extends into her forehead. This is what mother must have meant when she said it was the devil's mark.

But... I suddenly realize.

I look up at mother and see she's holding tightly onto her rosary, saying a prayer—an exorcism most likely. Then there's father, and he just looks at me as if he expects me to slip.

My eyes move once more over the innocent life in my arms, and I realize what I need to do.

I can't let her live through what I did... I know exactly what will come, the abuse she will have to bear at mother's hands, especially because of her birthmark. And father... I don't even want to think of what he could do to her.

I can withstand everything he dishes my way, but if he did that to someone I cared about... to my little sister? And he would.

"She's cursed," I say, repeating mother's words. It takes everything in me to do this, but she's better off without this family.

"She has the mark of the devil. Mother was correct. We should send her away."

"Is that so, boy?" Father leans into the wall, taking a cigarette from his case and lighting it.

"We should send her to a holy place, so they can take out the bad from her." I lift my head and look him dead in the eyes.

"She'll bring us bad luck if she stays," I continue, and mother turns to me, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"Yes! Take her away. The devil... it's the devil trying to tempt us. She's going to bring only bad luck," she cries hysterically.

Father shrugs. "Do what you want. She's not a boy." He throws his cigarette butt on the ground and stubs it with his shoe before turning and leaving.

There are a few maids in the room, and I also spot Amelia. I go to her.

"Where can we send her? Somewhere she'll be taken care of?"

"I... I..." She stammers, "There's a convent. The famiglia has connections there."

"Take her. Take her there." I hand over the baby to her, trying not to look again, knowing that the more I hold her, the harder it's going to be to let go.

"OK," she nods. "But... what about her name?"

"Let the nuns name her," I say and turn my back, leaving the room.

Because if I named her... if I let myself care...

I don't think I could survive.