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”
    Their voices hush.
    Antonio: “Keep it to your fuckin’ self! Can you handle this?”
    Vito: “I handle what needs handling.”
    Even though my eyes are stuck on the back wall of my living room, I can hear them. It’s like being stuck in a sound box for a horror movie; everything is sharp and surreal at the same time.
    Mr. Delisi: “Get her out of here before Vinny gets back, and I want a priest present when she is reburied. Do you understand? Let’s get this fuckin’ done.”
    Antonio: “What sick son of a bitch would do this, Pop? A stalker?”
    Mr. Delisi: “I don’t know, Tonio.”
    Antonio: “This is beyond fucked up. And I’ve seen some fucked up shit.”
    Vito: “Whoever did this better hope I never find them.” Vito’s tone, a deadly mutter.
    Antonio: “Are they gone?”
    Vito: “Yeah. Ronnie went with them.”
    Antonio: “Help me get her up.”
    Vito and Antonio stand me up. Their strong fingers are under my arms.
    Megan: “Here, I packed her a bag.” Her voice is thick like she’s been crying. “Can I go too?”
    Antonio: “No, honey. Vito will take care of her.”
    Megan: “She can’t walk.”
    Vito: “I got her.” Vito swings me up into his arms because I am dead weight. He carries me down the front steps of my house.
    I see Louie and he opens the door to Antonio’s car. His face is sad. Vito puts me in the car and a bunch of enforcers and people from the neighborhood are milling around on the street in the darkness. Gus is standing next to Megan. Her eyes are red and swollen from tears. She waves. I wish I had the energy to wave back, but my arms and legs aren’t working. Vito jumps in the driver’s seat, and we screech away from my house. With each passing second we are further away, acid bubbles in the back of my throat wanting to get out.
     

Chapter 5
     

Troy 
     
    The alarm on my phone is dinging relentlessly and I smack my hand on the screen to shut it up. Why did I sign up for a Sunday study group? The last thing I want to do right now is go, but I drag my butt out of bed and head into the bathroom. I flip the handle on the shower to hot and grab a towel out of the cabinet over the toilet, tossing it on the seat.
    I strip out of my pajamas, which is just a pair of underwear that I drop on the floor, and step into the spray. My movements are sluggish. I’m tired today. I let the water run down my back before I have the energy to wash up. Usually, a shower energizes me but today I’m fried. I suds up and shave my face. I step out and dry off. I brush my teeth and notice in the mirror the bluish circles under my eyes. Whatever.
    I open the bathroom door to grab my clothes before I have to head over to the library. “Shit!” I yell, and I slam the door shut.
    “What the fuck do you want now?!” I shout, standing naked in my bathroom.
    “I need a favor.” Vito’s voice is different today. It’s affected with a hitch to it. It is so changed from his usual timbre that it piques my curiosity.
    “I told you no more favors!” Our conversation is through the wooden door.
    “I’m asking for your help… please.”
    That is what gets me, the please . I bet Vito can count on one hand how many times he has ever said please in his lifetime. Guys like him don’t say it. They don’t need to.
    I crack the door open to peer out. He is standing close by the door but over his shoulder on my bed sits a girl I have met before.
    A beautiful Italian goddess. Long thick dark hair, olive skin, light brown eyes, and the saddest face I have ever seen. Alessandra’s gaze is glued to the floor. A lump grows in my throat seeing her upset.
    “Get me some clothes from the dresser.”
    Vito reaches into a drawer and pulls out a pair of Notre Dame sweatpants. He hands them to me, and when our eyes meet for just a second, the pain I see in his melts my resolve to never do another favor for him. Something is very wrong. I shut the door again and tug the sweats on.
    I open it back up,