RAISE YOUR HAND

Chapter 24

Dante couldn't help but think about Trinity disclosing the little fantasy she had about killing her friend. He tried to put it out of his mind several times. Not much ever surprised him, but her revelation certainly had. The words she spoke held so much conviction, he believed her. Giant sapphire eyes looked up at him then, filled with such guilt for her wicked thoughts. 

Was she kidding him? If she only knew. He was a murderer. He brutally tortured and killed her husband. David wasn't the only one who suffered his wrath either. There had been many more before him. Nor would David be the last. 

For Trinity to look at him for absolution of her thoughts was a sin all on its own. She needed a priest, not a devil. Of course, she didn't know that. No. He was the devil disguised as a savior afterall. How could she know? How could she know how evil he truly was? Hell, he even turned his own nephew into a murderer not too long ago. Although, it had to be done. It was the nature of their business. It wasn't an excuse or rationalization. It was a simple fact. All of the men in the Venturi family understood this.  

Their family crest was blood red. It was appropriate for how much blood had been spilled by their hands. He could bathe in it. With their history came a heavy price if one was a believer in any faith. His family proclaimed to be. He was raised to love God. Growing up, every Sunday he attended church with his family. At every meal, heads were bowed. His mother constantly blessed him with holy water before he left the house. In nomine patris et fili et spiritus sancti. In the name of the father, son and holy spirit. The only Latin words she knew. 

He was a hypocrite to the highest degree. So far removed from God, there really was no way to make shit right. He knew he was going to hell for all that he had done. So many sins. Too many to count. But to hell with being holier-than-thou if all it ever brought the living was pain. What was the point? He didn't see it and rejected God's rules, lessons and expectations. Fuck that. He never asked to be born. Especially into the Venturi Family. But here he sat. The head of it all. He would be damned if he was going to take his situation laying prostrate before an invisible lord.

An invisible lord who failed him time and time again whenever he asked--begged--for help to be freed from his responsibilities. A petition he never told anyone about, only ever whispered to this invisible god. A savior his mother ingrained into his fiber to worship and believe. As a child, he did everything he was told to do. He did everything he was told to do as a young adolescent transitioning into his teenage years as well. That's when things changed. When he started to notice his father and grandfather speaking in hushed tones. Disappearing into other rooms after family dinners.

One day, his curiosity got the best of him. He would never forget it. He was fifteen years old. It was Thanksgiving Day, and his huge family was over celebrating. After dinner was through, his father, grandfather and uncles did their usual disappearing act into his father's study. He already knew they smoked cigars and cigarettes with their drinks in there. That was nothing new. 

What he really wanted to  know was what the hell they talked about. Instead of pressing his ear to the door, he knew of a better way. His father's study had a closet. A closet that was shared with an adjoining room they called the music room, home to a baby grand piano and a harp. The piano was for himself and the harp was for his sister. Relentless lessons were had in the room, and he hated it. But, for this mission, it would serve his purpose well.

With the gentlest of touches, Dante turned the knob to the closet door and stepped in. It was a bit difficult to navigate with all of the junk, but he managed till he reached the other side of the small space where the door to his father's study stood solidly closed. This was the door he could press his ear to without risk of being discovered.