JOSI

Josi doesn't know where the bodies are. They discarded them as soon as the family met their end, and all she could do was stand and watch the guards drag their bodies out.

All Josi sees now are those images. Those grotesque images. She sees them when she closes her eyes, and even when her mind is preoccupied with all things Idris related, they're still there tormenting her. The images are everywhere. They have even begun showing up in her dreams. Although, now, Josi supposes they're nightmares.

In these nightmares, Nora's accusing gaze follows her. She runs. She races. She finds some place to hide from the stare, to flee from those harrowing accusations. But each time, she fails. She has no choice but to allow the stare judge her existence. It reads right through her and exposes her for who she truly is.

Now there's no hour in the day, no day in the week, that those eyes don't haunt Josi. She sits in her bedroom with a glass of whiskey neat just staring off into the distance. The same outline of the city which the sun currently kisses. The same gust of wind that rattles the bare branches. This setting delivers a falsified version of tranquility. It's all forms of serenity on the outside, but underneath, Josi is dismantling, like a raging avalanche that has still to find its conclusion.

After fighting tooth and nail to freeze all thoughts in her mind, Josi has finally given up and succumbed to them. They berate and taunt her — give her no room for rest. They practically control her life at this point.

She hasn't even been made aware of the maid who's been in the room with her for a while now, sorting out her wardrobe. It's like the room has ceased to exist, and all she can do is pick apart the issues in her mind.

And what eats Josi up currently is the choices she's made. Could she have handled her quest for revenge differently? Could she have taken a different route — one that didn't end in the death of an innocent family? Josi has no answer, and when the uncertainty settles in deep, she begins laughing. How ironic that even on the winning side, she still has to suffer.

I suppose I should have just let him lock me in here to rot until he decided to marry and put a baby in me.

The thought makes Josi grow queasy. Carrying Idris's child is a reality worse than hell. She will make sure the fetus dies before it even takes form. And if the pregnancy can't be prevented, she will put an end to her life.

The irritation still has not subsided. Josi fills her glass up with more whiskey and chugs it so recklessly, it spills down her neck and soaks her robe. The image will not leave. It will not disappear. It has made it its mission to torment Josi.

The blood. The lifeless bodies.

Alice. The six year old.

Alice was a child. Did she deserve a bullet to her head? As much as Josi would like to pin the blame on Idris for pulling the trigger, she knows this one is entirely on her. Her hands are as dirty as his — or in this particular case, possibly even more filthy. She dragged the Yarrow family into her agenda and made them pay for her crimes.

Josi had a hand in the death of a child.

"You are just like Idris Verdonni."

Josi turns to the maid. "What did you say?"

"I said do you want me to get Mr. Verdonni?"

Josi goes quiet. Has she begun hallucinating? Has it really gotten to that point? The emotions hit her in the darkest corner of her mind, then begin to drive out the last bit of sanity she has left.

"Get out."

The maid looks lost. "But ma'am–"

"Now!"

The maid will not be told a third time. She drops the heap of clothes and hurries towards the door, leaving Josi behind to drown in the mess she herself created. A big mistake on Josi's part. The silence kills her. It makes her miserable, and when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, it all but shatters her headlights.

Josi hurls her glass at the mirror. The person in those broken shards is an entirely different entity. It's not Josita Cade. Or perhaps it is. Perhaps Josi is no longer who she used to be.

It all comes down in submerging tidal waves. Josi rushes over to the clothes in a fit of rage and begins tearing them apart. When she can no longer mutilate them with her bare hands, she resorts to using scissors. She carves them up into pieces and spares none.

Then come the tears. They flow through quietly at first, until Josi begins sobbing. Tears full of pure frustration. She thrashes the scissors around, hoping that with each snip of its blades, the anguish will subside, even just a little. But the dreadful feeling is still there. It's suffocating, to the point where she doesn't even feel a thing when the scissors accidentally cuts through her palm. Good. Let her bleed. She deserves that pain. She deserves worse.

Once the clothes have all turned to pieces, Josi sits there on the floor and continues bawling. Even with all the plans she's managed to cook up thus far, she has no solution to this pitfall. The restlessness has driven her to insanity. And now she will wallow in the consequences.

~《¤》~

IDRIS

Idris is in the bathtub. He's still in his suit and shoes, but that shouldn't derail him from soaking in the basin. He doesn't smoke much from the cigar, just lets it hang there on the edge of his lips and stares off into space.

This may as well be the end. Things are all falling apart. They're out of his control, and now all he can do is sit back and watch it all go downhill. It's all above his power. He has no clue why things are now the way they are. He wishes he at least had answers, but the journey has granted him a destination he's unaware of.

Idris wants it all to end. He wants this punishment to find its conclusion. He has no solution to this complication. It's like he's been hit by a plague that won't stop until it has carried out its mission. Until the Verdonni family is in shambles.

Well, Idris is halfway past ending up in shambles. Let nature run its course. He's too weary to care.

Josi arrives in the bathroom minutes later, after Idris has built a barrier between him and the rest of the world. He doesn't even notice her there until she walks up and stands in front of him, and even then, she blends in with the rest of world, shut out from Idris's mind.

Josi sighs and offers a hand. Idris doesn't take it just yet. He lays in the water a couple seconds more before finally accepting Josi's offer. Once they've gotten Idris dried and into a new pair of clothes, Josi walks him over to a couch and has him lie down with his head on her lap. Then they sit there in perpetual silence.

Josi runs her fingers through Idris's hair while he stares off into space. Then he dives into a topic he didn't know he'd ever visit again.

"My mother lives in Nevada."

Josi doesn't reply. She looks down at Idris and simply lends him an ear.

"She works as a caregiver for a place called Homewatch. She has a husband — they got married nine years ago. They have two children. A boy and a girl. And they live in a suburban neighborhood."

The revelation hangs in the air. Idris isn't even sure if Josi is listening, but he continues on. It's like he's having the conversation with himself.

"She forgot about me. She left me behind and began a new life."

Idris pauses here and tries to recall the faded memories. He hasn't seen his mother since she left twenty years ago. When he was seven years old. He hardly even remembers what she looks like. All that comes to him now is a woman with lengthy black hair. Tanned skin. And very frightful brown eyes pointed at him.

His mother was once loving, this he remembers. Like every other mother, she was there for him. She made him eat his greens, though he hated them. She put him to sleep herself, refusing help from the maids his father hired. She was never one to rely on help. Idris remembers this detail, because she'd once turned it into a life lesson for him.

Then came the day that started it all. Idris was barely six. But in a world as jarring as the mafia, it's quite typical for children to start off early. Idris's father had him trained for hours everyday. He stuck him with weapons of all sorts, had him witness and even sometimes participate in torture.

A six year old with a kukri knife is not the sort of image a parent wants to see. Idris's mother was unsettled when it all began. Her own son wielding weapons suited only for murderers. The numerous injuries that came with the schooling only put her on the edge. But it only grew worse. The training never stopped. Idris spent more time under his father's scrutiny than he did being a child.

And one day when she'd caught Idris with a severed finger in his bloodied hands, she'd all but lost her mind. The smile on his face as he'd tried boasting about the hard work done. It mattered little if Idris was a child. His mother wanted nothing to do with that wretched family. So she left.

"We drove her insane." Idris says, his eyes now closed, recollecting memories he's tried so hard to bury. "I'll never forget the way she looked at me. Like I was her worst nightmare."

Eyes so frightened and on the edge of insanity. Those were once eyes that looked at him with warmth and endearment. How melancholic that the last image of his mother was of her in utter terror. Terror from the sight of her own son.

Even with all these years between them, Idris has never truly severed their connection. He tracked her down to the house she lives in, but has made no move to pay a visit. Because though he doesn't want to acknowledge that fact, he's terrified of what his mother will think if she sees him again.

How different things would be if his mother had taken him along. A reality Idris has contemplated numerous times. "I should never have let her go. I should have kept her close."

Josi strokes his hair and simply witnesses the scene before her. The layers around Idris have all come undone, and now what remains is a fragile shell. "It's not your fault."

But Idris has long since stopped caring about where the blame lies. He drove his own mother away. That fact will always be what remains true. "I'm not a good person, am I?"

Josi allows Idris's rhetoric hang in the air and grabs his hand instead. He holds onto it tight, then realizes this is the most warmth he's felt in a while.

"Don't leave me, Josita."

Josi squeezes his hand. "I won't."

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