Her - S01 E08

Story 6 months ago

Her - S01 E08

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 8

echo

Dig me deep into your heart like a coffin.

- V (me)

. . .

I sat down on the recliner, putting my feet on the table and setting my head against the backrest. The light of the city was on me through the transparent wall. It danced on my skin, lighting up my tattoos.

"That was brutal."

Michael pulled his glasses off, rubbing his temple. He was covered with blood. I was covered with blood. Ashton was wiping blood off his fingers with a pearly white handkerchief with not one drop of it on his suit.

The motorcycle club which had supported Igor still had a functioning chapter in New York - something we became aware of today when they decided to burn one of our smaller clubs.

They hard burnt it to the ground. The security had been unable to reach the captains because there were too many motorcycle enthusiasts.

Five people were burnt alive, more hospitalised. The media would have nothing, something I made sure of by keeping those leeches off us by money. Yet this was not good for business.

It being bad for business was the very reason Ashton had made Xerxes stay with Olivia and not join us as we killed off some of the members of the Blood MC, all those we could get our hands on while others fleed on their bikes. Xerxes would have ripped them apart for messing with business.

The reason Motorcycle Clubs rarely ever gained power was that they didn't live by a code. By honour. If the things had been the other way around, not one made man would have fled. That would have been punishable by death. You don't leave your family behind.

We die for omerta. We die for family.

My father's voice was clear, as clear as it was the day he had spoken those words to me. He spoke in Italian a lot, making sure we knew the language, but still spoke English at home for our mother's sake.

Loyalty is important. Family is important.

Yet he burnt our mother.

Control was what was important to him. Control. Money. Power.

The same things I craved. The same things my brothers craved.

No matter how much we denied it, we were like our father. In all the ways that made him brutal and cruel to everyone.

He was brutal to our mother. We would never be that for Olivia. That was where our paths divided.

I sighed. Killing often resulted in me thinking of the things of the past, things which did not matter.

Ashton finally kept his handkerchief down, his hands all clean and shiny. "We should return home. Michael, are you shaking?"

"I am angry."