The Story of Blood and Roses

Suddenly it fell into perspective. I knew that voice. He was the mysterious man I had seen with Anthony when I first started working for him. Only, the alcohol had made him unsophisticated. He spoke like a rowdy boy from a street gang rather than the cultured man whom I had heard the first time around.

"She works here, and she is not at your beck and call." I turned to look at Anthony for some sort of a signal. He blinked once, insisting I stay where I was. His eyes were narrowed to slits and his whole body was tense as he thought over the words he would say next.

"Let her go. We'll take you to some nice place where you can get any girl you like," he assured her. The man ignored him completely, much to my surprise. He freed my hair from my ponytail and ran his fingers through them. The shattered glasses on the floor of my feet were inviting. They were shimmering and ready to be used if things got out of hand.

"You're so pretty, sweet girl," he cooed.

"Thank you, sir." The room had gone silent. I could see that the others were staring openly at me.

"She reminds me of my wife," I stiffened. I certainly didn't want to hear this.

"I will be taking my leave now," I muttered under my breath as I got up on my feet. His hand fell away from my hair, but he made a displeased sound.

"You will be called when you are needed," I heard Anthony say firmly. It was a warning that I would follow. I turned around to leave, but he caught me again.

"You sound like her, too," he was speaking to me, now. I felt a chill run down my spine. "Your hair. The shape of your face... If I didn't know better, I'd think that my dead wife had been resuscitated," he snickered.

"Let her go," Anthony growled.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. It's not like Melody is coming back... I put the bullet in her myself." Frozen in the spot, I waited for something to snap.

"Fuck," I heard Michael swear.

That did it.

My body jerked.

My instincts took over.

My hand grasped the man's, and I squeezed.

"You bitch," he cried as he tried to free from my grip.

I could hear laughter.

It was me.

Michael... he didn't kill my mother...

I was numb.

My hand slid inside my skirt.

The gun came out.

I pointed it at the man who had killed my mother.

"What is the meaning of this?" he screeched. The men in the room were on their feet. They stared wide eyed as I pointed the gun at him.

"Remove your mask," I choked. I needed to be sure. This could all be another trick...

"Don't," I heard Anthony whisper. He was right behind me, holding me back by my waist.

"Let me go, Anthony."

"Stop it... this is why..." I knew... I knew what he meant. I shouldn't have come here.

He knew who I was all along.

"You knew," I whispered, accusingly. I didn't dare to look at him. I stared at the offensive man who clutched his injured hand. "You knew he did it and let me..." It was difficult to breathe. The other men shifted and left. They knew when to pick a fight.

"Please," Anthony pleaded.

He knows.

"I thought you were dead," I asked the man.

"No one thought I was dead," he replied. "Who are you?"

"You fabricated your own death? What did you get out of it?" Suddenly, my voice was calm. I was not an orphan. I would turn the rat in.

"Anthony, get this bitch out of here before I put a bullet between her eyes."

His own hand went for the concealed gun in his belt. I reacted by aiming mine at his head. Not heeding the warning, he pulled out his gun and pointed it at me.

"Remove the damned mask, Cain," I growled. He pulled it off in one go and then waited.

"So?" he challenged.

"Mia," Anthony warned me.

"Why did you do it, Dad?" I left all pretenses.

The mask came off.

"Mia?"

Anthony stiffened beside me. He pulled away after a moment. I wish he had stood by me. I really did. But I needed to do this alone.

I was going to die.

I heard a gun being pulled out and knew that it was Anthony. I was pretty sure that he was going to point it at me. I had deceived him, and he had the right to kill me. But he had known... all this time, he had known.

"Why did you do it, Dad?" He swore under his breath and cocked the gun.

"Your mother was in my way."

"Why?"

"My business," Anthony answered from the other end of the room. "He was trying to take over my business and call it his own. He failed."

"You lied," I stated flatly.

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