A Sinner’s Truth: Chapter 3

My hand shakes as I unlock the door. I don’t know if it’s the effect of the whiskey wearing off, or if it’s because I’m about to walk into our apartment for the first time since Shelli died.

She didn’t die. She was murdered. By your father, that asshole voice in the back of my head reminds me.

I push the door open, expecting to be greeted by her. Except she’s not here.

The place is spotless. Shelli was a clean freak. Everything always had a place. “What do you want me to find, Shelli?” I ask. Of course, I get no fucking answer.

I stop in the middle of the living room. Where do I even start? I basically lived here. If she were hiding something from me, I would have known. At least I’d like to think I would.

I head for the kitchen. I can’t walk into the bedroom. I just can’t do it. Not yet. Being here is fucking hard. There’s a reason I’ve avoided this place. As soon as I step over the threshold, I’m flooded by memories. Shelli standing over the stove, wearing nothing but one of my shirts, cooking dinner and smiling back at me from over her shoulder. She loved cooking. And, man, could the woman cook.

“I could really go for some of your food right now,” I say aloud. Again to no one.

I open the top cabinets, reaching into the back and shifting all the items around. But there’s nothing but cups, kitchen utensils, and cans of food. Moving on to the bottom cupboards, I find the same. Nothing.

Next, I walk into what Shelli liked to call her office. It’s really just a room full of shelves, covered in little ornaments, with a desk in the middle. She didn’t come in here often. She wasn’t career driven. All Shelli ever wanted to be was a wife and a mother. She wanted that white-picket fence dream. And I wanted to give it to her.

“There’s nothing here,” I curse in frustration, after turning the place upside down.

“You need to dig,” her voice repeats in my head.

I lower myself onto a chair and pull out the stainless steel flask I keep in my pocket. It’s filled with only the finest whiskey. Cinque, of course. I bring the opening to my lips and sigh as the liquid hits the back of my throat. There’s something comforting about the drink. Or maybe it’s just the only way I get to see her. It’s after the third chug that I realise what Shelli is trying to tell me.

I need to dig. I need to dig her up. She’s not going to be there. She’s not dead. And once I dig up her grave and find it empty, I’ll know for sure. And I’ll be able to find her.

“I don’t fucking care how long it takes. Do it now.” I hold the end of my pistol at the caretaker’s head.

“You want me to dig up a grave? There’s paperwork that needs to be processed, Mr De Bellis,” he stutters out.

“How’s this for paperwork?” I move the pistol to his left and pull the trigger. The bullet whizzes past his ear.

“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands.

“Glad you could see things my way.” I smile at him. Who would have thought it’d be so fucking hard to get people to dig up a grave? I should have brought some of my brother’s men out here. But then word of what I’m doing would have gotten back to Gio quicker than it will if I do this shit on my own.

I’m not naïve. I know he’ll find out. Nothing happens in this city that he doesn’t know about.

The casket is finally retrieved and set on the edge of the now-empty hole. “Leave it. Mention this to anyone and there’s a bullet with your name on it,” I tell the two men working the exhumation equipment.

Once they’re gone, I jump down into the hole and step closer to the casket.

“Please be empty.” I send up the plea to God only knows who as I open the lid and fall backwards. A tidal wave of grief hits me all at once.

It’s like losing her all over again as my fiancée’s decaying corpse glares back at me.

“No!” I scream. My hands pull at the ends of my hair while my lungs struggle to suck in oxygen. “No!” I kick at the wall of dirt in front of me. “It was supposed to be empty.”

“Keep digging, Santo,” Shelli says. I turn and find her standing at the edge of the grave. She’s wearing her favourite yellow dress.

“I can’t do this,” I tell her.

“You need to. You’re the strongest person I know, Santo. You can do this. Find the truth. It’s the only thing that will help you move on.”

“I don’t want to fucking move on. I want you back.” I choke on the words.

“That can’t happen. Keep looking, Santo,” Shelli repeats.

I pull myself out of the hole and sit on the side opposite the casket. I force myself to look at her decomposing body, and not the version of her that’s standing at the end of the grave.

“Why? Shelli? Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” I drop my head into my hands. “We were meant to have forever. Now I’m left with a forever of you haunting me. A forever of not fucking knowing!” I scream. “I just want to know why!”

“What’s up?” My baby brother’s voice has me turning my attention to him. When did Vin get here? What is he doing here?

“She’s really dead,” I tell him.

“Yeah, bro, she is.” Vin glances at the casket briefly before he looks back at me.

“I see her though, Vin. She’s standing right there.” I point to the end of the grave. “How is she standing there if she’s in… there?”

“I think that maybe you want her to be here so badly that your mind is playing tricks on you, Santo. She’s not here. I wish more than anything that she were. I wish I could bring her back for you, but I can’t. We can’t,” Vin says, his voice quiet.

“What if I don’t want her back? What if I just want answers?” I’ve never voiced this thought to anyone before. What if what I want back isn’t really Shelli? I love her, but I also fucking hate her for doing this to me.

“Answers to what?” Vin asks. I notice how his shoulders stiffen slightly.

“Too fucking many questions. What if that’s not her?” It could be someone else. It’s decomposing. It could be anyone really.

“Santo, you found her, remember? You held her body in your arms. You know it’s her,” Vin says.

“We were going to be parents. I was going to be a father.” I stare at Shelli as I say this, and she glances away. Odd. She never had trouble looking me in the eye before.

“Yeah,” Vin says.

I jump back into the hole. “You should leave, Vin. This isn’t your problem,” I tell him.

“Get the fuck out of the hole. And you are my brother. Your problems are my problems,” he barks, his tone suddenly more commanding. That almost makes me smirk.

“I can’t, Vin. I can’t keep doing this. I’m losing my fucking mind. I died with her. He won. The old man fucking won!” I yell out while tugging at the ends of my hair again.

“No, he didn’t. That fucking bastard will not win. I won’t let him.” Vin jumps down into the hole with me. Pressing a hand on my shoulder as he leans his forehead against mine. “I didn’t let him win when he put me in a room, month after month. Nor when he let a bunch of sick fucking assholes use and abuse me time and time again. I’m not going to let him win now either. He will not beat you, Santo. You’re stronger than this,” he says. His voice quiet but loud enough for me to hear him.

My entire body goes rigid before I pull back to look him dead in the eyes. “What?” I question him, because I don’t want to believe what I just heard.

“I won’t let him beat you,” Vin repeats.

“Not that. What do you mean you were abused?” My blood is boiling. The coldness I usually feel turning to scorching heat.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters right now is you and the fact that you are going to get through this,” Vin says.

“It matters to me. What the fuck happened, Vin?” I’m vibrating with rage. I’m going to fucking obliterate whatever motherfucker thought it was a good idea to touch my family.

“It started when I was eleven. Stopped when I was fourteen.”

My stomach recoils. I feel sick. My baby brother was abused for three fucking years and I let it happen. “Three years? Three fucking years, Vin?”

“He had a house. I wasn’t the only kid to get locked up in those rooms. But I was the only one related to him. Once a month, the old man took me there. Sometimes I’d be there for an hour. Other times… with other men… Well, they wouldn’t leave until I broke,” Vin explains.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Gio? Or any of us? We would have never let that fucking happen, Vin.” I would have fucking killed the old bastard myself.

“I couldn’t… He said if I told any of you, then he’d take you there too. Better me than any of my brothers.” Vin lifts a shoulder.

He was an eleven-year-old kid. It was my job to be looking out for him, and this happened right under my goddamned nose. Anger like nothing I’ve ever felt rises to the surface. I was livid when Shelli was taken from me, but after this? Hearing about my little brother’s abuse? It’s a whole new level of rage. That confuses the fuck out of me, because I lived and breathed for that woman.

“That wouldn’t have happened. You should have come to us. Fuck!” I’m yelling at him as I kick at the wall of dirt again.

“It’s in the past, Santo. I’ve dealt with it.” Vin glances over a shoulder. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. Then pulls himself out of the hole and closes the lid on the casket. “RIP, Shelli,” he whispers.

“You know her?” I ask while staring in the direction of the young girl who seems to be watching us.

“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.” Vin sighs. Something else I didn’t know about my brother.

“Go home, Vin. I need to clean up here,” I tell him. This isn’t his mess. And right now, all I want to do is find some heads and make ʼem fucking roll.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Vin says.

“I’m not alone. I’ve got Shelli right here.” I point to the casket, my lips tipping up into a slight smirk.

“That’s fucking morbid, even for you.” Vin shakes his head at me.

I pull myself out of the hole, stand, and dust off my suit. “I wanted the casket to be empty,” I tell my brother as we both watch his girlfriend walk away.

“I know,” Vin says.