Page 61 of Vicious Behaviors
Something within me forces me to stop and glance inside one of the locked rooms. There, I find a man, roughly around my father’s age, slamming his forehead into a padded white wall, over and over again until the foam gives way and blood begins to streak down his face. I glance around the room and see the walls already stained with an older, darker shade of red—proof he’s done this before.
I flinch, stepping back, and ask, “Father,” I swallow hard, “What is this place?”
“This is a psychiatric hospital,” my father says flatly. “For the criminally insane.”
In other words, it’s an asylum. A prison for those whose mind already holds them hostage. My father’s words hit harder than they should. Not because they surprise me, but because somehow, I already knew this is where he would bring me one day. The place that he’d leave me in.
“Come here,” he orders, stopping at another small window and sliding open the viewing slot.
My knees threaten to buckle, but by some miracle, I’m able to get close enough to look inside. There, I find a man sitting curled in a corner, covered in his own filth. He rocks insilence, whispering to someone who isn’t there, his eyes wide, unblinking.
I take another step back and ask, “Why am I here, Father?” There’s an edge in my voice I’ve never dared turn on him before.
He notices it too. The resentment in my tone. The disdain. There’s a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but after a moment, like always, the mask falls back into place. Stone. Unshakable.
“You’ve made it clear that you want to follow in Jude’s footsteps,” he says at last. “That you want to be inducted into the Outfit.”
I don’t respond. It’s not like it’s a secret. Since Jude’s induction, after returning from England a few years ago, I’ve known my fate was to follow in his footsteps, wherever that might lead.
“If that is your plan…if that is the future you envision for yourself, then you need to have all the information before making such a decision.”
“I don’t see how this place has anything to do with me wanting to join the family business.”
“Yes, you do,” he retorts, bridging the gap between us. “This place is what happens if things go wrong for you. If you kill someone for the syndicate and get caught, they won’t throw you in prison, Marcello. They’ll send you here. This,“he gestures around us, “will be your new hell.” The blood drains from my face, cold seeping into my bones. “You’re not like your brother,” he continues. “We both know that. Jude doesn’t carry the same burden you do. Not like we do.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, though deep down…I do. I’ve always known that I was different from my brother. Different from all my siblings. That I was damaged in ways they could never understand.
“Let’s not waste time on denials. You’ve lived with it for most of your life now. Lived with that thing inside you. So far, you’ve been able to keep it on a tight leash. But we both know it’s becoming restless of late. And if you let it out, if you lose control…“he doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.
My throat tightens. “Why are you telling me this? Why bring me here? Why today?”
“Because I need you to understand. This,” he nods toward the padded walls, the muffled screams echoing through the halls, “is your future if you get careless. If you think this life comes without consequence, then let me assure you that you’re wrong. I want you to see what’s waiting at the end of that path. They won’t ask questions, Marcello. They’ll lock you up like a monster. And you’ll end up living the rest of your days like one, too.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“No, son.” He shakes his head slowly. “I’m trying to give you all the facts. What kind of father would I be if I let you make a decision blind?”
That’s when I realize this visit isn’t just a cautionary tale. It’s a confession, too. He’s telling me that I’ve failed at hiding what I am. That he sees how I struggle with it every day. That it’s getting harder and harder to keep the monster in check.
What he’s failed to see is that I’ve fought more brutal wars just to keep my mind intact. The only reason I’m still breathing is because I’ve learned how to bury the part of me that wants to burn it all down.
I’ll keep fighting it until my very last breath. However, it’s my father’s lack of faith in me that really causes the knot in my chest to tighten.
“Do you not want me to take the omertà? Do you think I don’t deserve to have my birthright?” I retort, taking a step back from him. “Is that it? Am I that weak in your eyes?”
“That’s not what I said.” He takes a step forward, and I instinctively step away from him. He lets out a frustrated exhale but doesn’t try to move any closer. “Bringing you here was never meant to make you feel inadequate.”
“Then what did you mean by it, Father?” I ask point blank. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
He holds my gaze. There’s no anger in his eyes. No affection, either. Just certainty.
“I want you to consider all your options,” he says. “You can try to live a normal life. Continue to fight the ghosts that haunt you. Walk away from everything Outfit-related and escape all of this—”
“And if I don’t want that?” I interject.
He pauses, letting the silence press against my chest like a weight.
“Then,” he says, his voice low, final, “it’s about time you start working for me. Let the monster inside you feed on someone else’s soul for a change.”
