Pink

I can't

I can't  blame him. Well not for everything. I feel bad, really bad.

I stride up the stairs and I  knock on  his door. "Alessandro open up...please" I ask nicely  but he ignores me.

"Alessandro  I'm sorry" I  say in vain hoping he'd  let me in but  he doesnt.

"Alessandro" I say starting to  loose my patience more and more. "Alessandro!" I  shout as I storm into his room.

Where did I  get this courage?

As I  open the door I  instantly regret it when I  see him standing on his balcony shirtless with a cigarette  between his fingers and a bottle of  vodka in the other hand.

I  stay silent. "Raising your voice at me now? I guess you're not scared after all." He says  sarcastically.

"I don't  blame you..." I  begin and he slowly turned towards me.

"I don't blame you for being like this." I  say and his eyebrows draw close together.

"Being like what?" He questions looking angry.  My breathe caught in my throat. I  didn't know what else to say.

Was what I  said bad? I mean  I  said I  don't  blame him and now he's mad. What does he want me to say. That  I  do blame him?

"I'll  help you out Martina, you're  looking for the word Monster. Cause that's exactly what I am right? A monster." He slurs a bit taking chug at his vodka.

"Alessandro.   You're not a monster-"

"You dont know that" he cuts me short and he leans against the wall  rather drunk.

"I know you're not  because you're a  good person who cares"

"Martina you dont know the things I've  done, if you  knew you wouldnt  say that. I made sure you never found out because if..." he stops and swallows hard.

"If you did you would..." he clenches his jaw and inhales sharply.

"I would what?" I questioned.

"You'd  see me the way everyone else saw me..." he says hesitantly, slidding down to the floor and resting his arms on his knees.

"A monster" his voice sounding  dead  as he spoke.

"Why do you keep using that word" I asked looking down at him as he took a long drag of  his pot. Judging from what he's  doing  he looks like he's  in a deep state of depression.

I walk towards  him and sit on the floor beside him. I sat quietly beside him and he was silent the entire time.

"Talk to me" I shoot.

"About what?" He asked looking at me with a cold expression on his face that made me question  what I  was about to do.

Deep down I  really  want to know about  him. I want to know more about  him then the things I've heard already. I just hope he's  willing to.

"Tell me about you, about your past, things that you think about but you  don't ever want to say outloud, I'm  listening." I whisper   already  setting myself up for disappointment.

When he  stays quiet I  know he isn't  going to tell me about himself. I don't think he likes talking  much.

He seems  reserved. From what I have gathered about him, he is dangerous but well mannered, rude but respectful, scary but doesn't want me to be scared of him. Well known for his infamous actions but not really known.

Because beside the fact that he kills what more do people  know about him. I guess  I  know he plays piano and has  a secret room in his bedroom but what more do I know.

I know there's more. But he really doesn't  want to give information about himself away that easily.

"I  was born in Barcelona, Spain on November 6th" he starts taking a drag of his cigarette  one  last time and then putting it out.

"My dad he..."

"He was in the mafia, and so were  the rest of the men before him. He never treated me like normal kids" he swallows  hard.

"Normal kids went to school, made friends, bought home a little drawing they drew and gave it to their parents. Made their parents proud by showing them a gold star on their foreheads or by  spelling  basic words correctly on a test..."

"But I guess we aren't all lucky" his cold tone makes the room silent.

"What about your mom?" I ask and he visibly tenses.

"She knew. About the mafia. She tried to make me feel normal by caring for me and  letting me do normal things like eat candy, watch TV, ride a bike...play the piano." Alessandro's  lip quirks up as he says the last bit.

"But my dad was quite the opposite. He made me...do things I'm  not proud of."

"I had to kill someone when I was 8, but not with a gun, that would've been better since it meant they wouldn't  suffer but my father made me..." he shook his head and  never continued.

"When my mother found out I was sent to my room, but I  hid upstairs and  listened to them, the last thing I remember my mother saying was...'please don't turn my son into a monster'"

"I sat in my room the whole  night thinking about it. Everytime I  was forced to inflict punishment on others she'd be the one to comfort me later" his lip twitches into a small smile.

"She's the one who taught me how to play piano. She used to sing to me, alot." He smiles at the memory but his smile later drops into a frown.

"And then, after my fathers training, I was excited to finally get a chance to be normal and I sat by the piano chair waiting for my  mother to show up" he sighed.

"But she never did" he finished with a shrug. And my father told me she was dead, and I  went to  her funeral  the next week and promised myself to find who killed her" Alessandro stands up.

"Time to go to bed Pink, I'll see you tomorrow " he helps me up to my feet and I nodded.

"Do you have your sleeping pills here?" He asked as I made my way to the door.

Holy molly I  forgot them, how could I forget them. I  took one  before the flight and slept in the jet, but I forgot to  bring the rest.

I don't  want to be a burden to him so I  simply nod and make my way to my room.