Manners with the Devil

52

G I A V A N N A            A M A T O

The gun still rested firmly within the grip of my right palm, which also possessed the scene of butchered scarlet chaos, painted evidently on my skin. That chaos also had dripped off my hand, casting off a trail of blood behind my step. 
Regardless of the mess I had produced, it wasn't the major subject that was glued in my mind. The subject that my mind spiraled about, were the last two words my father had spoke before his blood splattered everywhere. The two unpredicted words that formed out of his breath. 

Victoria Luxemburg. The name repeated itself inside my brain, digging a needle, creating a loop, Victoria Luxemburg.

It struck me.

Luxemburg was my mother's maiden name. The name she held before fusing with the Amato family. The name she held before marrying Davide Amato. 

My father had labelled my mother with the use of her maiden name. 

So, they both have obviously met with another in the time I'd last seen my father. My father always used to call her Victoria Amato once she left, but now he refused. Something had happened between them both. And whatever happened, must have broken them more apart. 

All that, with the addition of my mother blackmailing my father. and using that to her advantage, to prey me over here. she must be here. 

I've killed the man that exposed me. I could go home. I could see Lucas, fall into his arms and lay their for hours. But I want to see her. I want to meet my mother again. I want to meet with The Demon. 

My thoughts of my family quickly came stationary once I had finished the walk along the hallway, assembling myself with the look of a dead end. The door that got me inside the office, had now closed in. I was purely trapped. 

A button, a switch, a lever, is what I required to find. something to open this hidden passage.

With my left hand, I trailed the wall up and down, examining with my eyes and touch. Each crevice, mouldings, structural elements, the flooring, and corners. I also managed to reach the ceiling by my tiptoes, and feel above. Yet, nothing pinned out to me, everything seemed normal and in perfect place.

My head spun around, inspecting the whole hallway for the third time, from an outer perspective. And my eyes transfixed on the immemorial paintings. Five of them hung on each side of the hallway, glossed with outstanding artwork. My feet took two steps to the one closest, my eyes viewing every detail in the painting. It was an image of a young woman sitting elegantly upon a bench. Wearing a long, traditional rosy dress. Her hair brushed out to the sway of the wind, dark brown. Her eyes inky, gazing to something you couldn't make out. And in her soft hands, settled a beautiful bunch of pink and red roses.
It wasn't the first time I had seen this picture.

"Victoria." I muttered, lifting my left hand up and placing it on the frame, "Your here. I know it." My hand delicately pulled the bottom of the structure, my head peeping underneath to peer on the wall behind it. It was bare and coloured the same as the walls. I went to check all the other nine, but they all appeared untouched and fine.

"These Germans and their secret doors," I huff, spinning my body around to take another inspection across the hallway. My eyes paused again. Ancient-looking candles roared flames and smoke out at me. They all sat perfectly apart. Except for the one sitting beside my mother's painting. I stepped closer, studying the object more. This candle was positioned lower than the others. The natural eye wouldn't notice the imperfection, unless they were here as me, finding a way to get out the room. I wrapped my fingers around the candlestick, the heat trickling over my flesh, and with luck, it allowed me to proceed the action. The wall by the side of it opened up.

My luck this time had hit rock bottom. I took my step through the passage to be presented with the same exact line of German Guards. They all stood in the same way Davide and I had left them. Their backs straight, as if an invisible pole held them up, their eyes darting straight, and they overall looked like mannequins. None of them peered a glance to me. I was undetectable to them. But that definitely didn't faze me, and for sure didn't anger me.

They can play their games. I can play mine.

In other words, my game involves a lot more than a few poker faces. My game involves gore, bullets, suffering, misery and their mouths.

I sauntered along the track of armed men, the grasp on my gun increasing each time I'd pass another soul, my gaze forward like theirs.
Once I had made one full lap past the line of guards, I held my legs from walking further, pivoted my body around, and took another lap past them all, whilst I began to speak. "I find games fun- exciting- connecting." Moments pass, the torturing silence filling with the echoing sound of my footsteps, "I remember the ones where I would sit down with my nanny. My five year old self was ever so competitive to win." Again, I left a long wave of silence. "Chess, Snakes and Ladders, Ludo, and Monopoly." I took another pause, "But as I grew older, board games weren't so popular. Especially once I attended University." with my gaze straight ahead, "Two truths one lie is my favourite. The way all my friends would huddle around a table, and we would take turns to let out information. Some broke out into fights. Some broke out into applauses." I had reached the end of the line again, walked up to the middle, turned around to face with them, "I'd like to play with you fine men." my eyes scanned their poker faces, "But without the lies."