DARK DEEDS

13

HE DRIVES ME THROUGH THE CITY under the star-studded skies. The wind caresses my hair and skin as it rushes into the open car window.

I feel everything and nothing as I lean back onto the head rest with my eyes shut. Tears run down in the dark at the events of the night.

Perhaps I overreacted or under reacted. It is hard to tell when the thoughts in my head are clouded with alcohol. I run a hand over my face as I let out a breath.

Salvatore places his hand onto my thigh and squeezes. I turn to the side and look at him. He focus on the road as he asks. “Wanna Get some food? We still have an hour and a half on the road.”

“Yes please.” I pout before he swerves to left and drives straight ahead. We pass a Gas station before we come to a stop at a fast food restaurant.

He switches off the engine and turns to me. He looks at me for a second before his hand wipes the tears off my cheeks.

“She hit you.” Salvatore states as he scans the side of my face. “Does she do that often?”

I shake my head no but he does not seem convinced. For some reason I feel the need to defend Grandmothers actions against me. “She was just mad that I lied to her and other stuff.”

“Are you mad at her?” He questions before I think about it.

“I was before but now I am more mad at myself. I feel as if I overreacted. She was just worried and I screamed at her.” I respond and he chuckles. It is a beautiful sounds. It tugs at my heart and my lips which form a smile as I ask. “What?”

“Your innocence humours me.” He smiles for a moment before his face grows serious. “I have murdered people and had people murdered. Yet I could never bring myself to feel even an ounce of guilt.”

“How do you do it?” I question.

“I think about their bad deeds and how much they deserve to be punished.” He responds before a thought comes to mind. One I should not even think to say to him but I do.

“Did you ever feel guilty for murdering my parents?” I question.

“No. It is what they wanted when they signed that document. I only delivered when I sent them a hitman.” He tells me. I frown. I hoped he would feel something but perhaps men like him do not feel.

I turn my face from him. He lets out a breath before he turns me back to look at him. Then he lets out his words. “I never hold myself accountable for the actions of other people. And you should not either Carina. It is bad for business.”

“No Salvatore. It is bad for the heart to be such a bad person.” I respond. A look of shock crosses his features. He is quick to mask it before he opens the car door and heads into the restaurant.

He comes back moments later with a salad and a vegetable sandwich and whatever vegetarian meal I can think of. I scowl at it and push it aside. “I do not want that.”

“It is what you wanted before.”

“I do not want it now.”

He lets out a breath and asks. “What do you want?”

“An extra large hamburger, extra large fries with dipping sauce, and pure orange juice.” I respond before he steps out of the car once more. When he comes back he brings just that.

“Thanks.” I tell him before he starts back on the road. As I eat I ask — “Want some?”

“No.” He responds. “I prefer homemade food.”