The Villain Duet by Bella J.

Chapter 25

Elijah

Past

His house was small but warm. It felt welcoming, like home.

It didn’t reek of piss and rotten food. There were no dirty dishes scattered around the kitchen or smelly clothes lying on the couches.

The walls were clean, with no greasy hand marks and mold stuck to them. The man closed the door behind him. “You hungry, boy?”

I nodded.

“The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left. Take a shower while I make us something to eat. There’s a set of clean clothes for you on the bathroom cabinet.” He placed the cello case in the jacket closet behind the door, and I was oddly curious about the guns he hid inside it.

“Will you teach me?”

He glanced at me in question.

I swallowed. “Will you teach me how to shoot?”

He shrugged out of his gray coat and hung it in the closet with his cello case, took off his striped beret and placed it inside as well before closing the doors. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Can you aim when you piss?”

I frowned. “What?”

“Can you aim when you piss? Or do you just,” he waved his hand, “piss all around the goddamn toilet?”

“What does that have to do with you teaching me how to shoot a gun?”

He leaned down and looked me square in the eye. “If you can’t control something as small as your dick, you can’t control a gun, boy.”

He patted me on the shoulder and brushed past me. “Shower. Now.”

“I can,” I blurted. “I can aim…you know, when I pee. It’s just, in the mornings, it’s a little more…you know.”

He turned to face me again. “A gun doesn’t care what time of day it is when you shoot it. It doesn’t give a shit what the circumstances are when you pull that trigger. And that means you need to always be in control of it. No matter what. Once that bullet leaves the chamber, you make sure it always hits the target. Always.”

He swung around and disappeared around the corner. I didn’t know this man, I didn’t know this house, and if I were any other boy, I’d probably be shit scared right now. But I wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

It felt good to take a shower, to wash off the filth Roland’s hands left on me. To get rid of the stench of neglect. They were gone. Both of them.

And Ellie.

The man who saved me shot Roland—the man who became my version of the monster under my bed. And me? I killed my mother. I could still feel the syringe in my palm, how I slowly injected the heroin into her arm. I could still see her face, her glazed eyes as the drug spread through her veins, killing her. Her apology right before she died meant nothing to me. Nothing. Because of her, Ellie was gone, and I had no idea what they had done to her.

Did they take her away?

Did they kill her?

I wasn’t sure which one would be worse—my little sister being dead or locked up somewhere being hurt by monsters. It kept me up at night, wondering if she was under the same night sky as me, or whether she was looking down from Heaven. Maybe Heaven was better—for her, at least. If she were dead, I’d mourn her, cry for her, miss her. But she’d be safe, unharmed, and no longer hungry or afraid.

I sat down at the dining table, and the man placed a bowl of spaghetti in front of me, the smell of herbs and spices filling my nostrils and causing saliva to coat my tongue. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.

He took a seat at the other end of the dining table. “Someone will be coming by tonight. Someone who wants to see you.”

“Who?”

“He’s family.” Gianni gestured to my plate. “Now, eat. You need some meat on your bones, boy.”

I twirled the spaghetti around on the fork. I was surprised I still remembered how to do that since the last time my mom cooked spaghetti was before my dad died. When Ellie and I were still beloved kids who got taken care of by our own parents.

“Thank you,” I murmured as I kept my gaze down.

“For what?”

I glanced up. “For saving me.”

The weight of my gratitude was right there in his eyes as he stared back at me, as if he knew I had never meant anything more than what I had said right now.

He simply nodded, rubbing his hands together as he leaned his elbows on the table.

I took a bite of the food, the tangy tomatoes with the subtle sweetness of basil exploding in my mouth. After that first taste, it was like years and years of going to bed hungry had rushed back, my stomach feeling like my throat had been cut off. I couldn’t get the food into my mouth fast enough, and I turned from boy to savage.

“Hey, slow down, Elijah. The last thing we need is for you to choke to death.”

I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. “How do you know my name?”

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes narrowed.

“You know me?”

He still didn’t answer.

“That explains the clean clothes.”

“How so?”

I placed the fork down. “I knew it was no coincidence, you having a set of clean clothes ready for me. All in my size.”

He cocked a brow. “I have a son your age.”

“No, you don’t.”

“How do you know I don’t have a son?” He seemed curious as to how I’d answer, slanting his head to the side as he studied me.

I took a sip of water, my throat suddenly dry. “This is a two-bedroom house.”

“You snooped?”

“I was just…taking a look around.” My heart slowly started to claw its way up my throat.

“Well,” he tapped his finger on the table, “the second bedroom is my son’s.”

For a moment, I hesitated, unsure whether I should say more or keep quiet. But, deep down, something told me not to mess this up. That this man sitting across from me was my last hope, and if I made the wrong move…I would have no hope at all.

My stomach tightened, and I looked down.

“Talk, boy. Say what’s on your mind.” Nothing was threatening about the way he spoke, no darkness hidden within his words.

I shifted in my seat. “The second bedroom,” I started, nervously twirling my thumbs, “it doesn’t look like a boy’s room.”

“How so?”

“It’s too neat,” I explained, my courage growing stronger. “It looks like there hasn’t been anyone in it for years.”

“Explain.” He crossed his arms, seemingly intrigued as there was no sign of hostility. If anyone knew what anger and hostility looked like, it would be me.

I rubbed my fists together in my lap. “The shutters were closed.”

“It’s nighttime. Shutters should be closed at night.”

“And there are no clothes in the closet.”

“My son keeps all his clothes in the chest of drawers.”

“There is no chest of drawers,” I countered. “But there is a bedside table.”

“And what of it?”

“It’s covered in dust.” I couldn’t be sure, but I was certain I saw a hint of a smile tug at the edges of his lips, and it gave me the confidence to go on. “And so is the pocket Bible on top of it.”

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “How does the Bible on the desk prove that I don’t have a son your age?”

I shrugged. “You don’t look like a religious man. And it’s doubtful that your son would have a Bible in his room when you don’t have one in yours.”

For the longest time, he studied me, not moving and not saying a word. The atmosphere grew heavy, and I started to regret being so candid and straightforward about “snooping” through his house while he thought I was taking an extra-long shower.

“Gianni,” he said, not taking his eyes off me. “My name is Gianni.”

I bit the inside of my mouth, my intense hunger replaced with nerves.

“You’re very observant, Elijah. It’s quite impressive.”

I had my doubts about how sincere that compliment was—if it was a compliment at all. So, I simply nodded and avoided eye contact as I stared at the bowl of spaghetti in front of me.

“Why do you have a Bible in your spare room?”

“I use it as a…reminder.”

“Of what?”

Gianni glanced at the table in front of him as if staring into open space. “My transgressions.” He looked back at me, taking a visible breath. “Now, the man coming here tonight is the reason I got you out of that house.”

I didn’t respond.

“As I said, he’s family. You don’t have to be afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid,” I blurted. It was important that he knew that. That he knew I wasn’t afraid of him or anyone. I had spent too many days living in fear, wondering what Roland or my mom would do next. Every night I would sit in the dark, staring out the window at the sky, thinking it might be my last. The uncertainty of my fate, all the questions and fear surrounding Ellie’s disappearance, ate at my insides, and there was no way I’d spend another day of life living in fear. I survived hell. I feared nothing.

Gianni nodded. “It’s good not to be afraid. But remember, fear is the mind’s best motivator when it comes to surviving. You can fear something and be brave at the same time, Elijah. The trick is not to let your fear control you.”

My jaw clenched as I looked up at him, the wrinkles around his eyes betraying the secrets that came with his age. He looked older than my dad was before he died. I never had a grandfather. My mom’s dad died before I was born. And from what I had learned through eavesdropping on conversations between my mom and dad, my dad didn’t want anything to do with his dad. Something about the family business being too dangerous. That he was protecting Ellie and me by cutting ties with his side of the family.

A knock on the door startled me, and Gianni shot me a reassuring smile, not saying anything about a simple knock scaring me right after I said I wasn’t afraid.

My heart raced as I watched him open the door.

“Mr. Russo,” Gianni greeted, standing to the side so the man could enter.

The man looked my way, removing the gloves from his hand. “This is the boy?”

“It is.”

Mr. Russo approached, and I stood, trying my best to act unintimidated while my stomach slowly turned inside out.

A thick gold chain beneath the open collar of his shirt glinted under the light. But it was his eyes that seemed familiar to me. Crystal blue. Light but gleaming with an edge of darkness. Warning. Power.

“Elijah,” he greeted. “I don’t suppose you remember me?”

I shook my head while biting the inside of my cheek.

“The last time I saw you, you were just a baby.” His expression softened. “You’ve grown up, and you look just like your father.”

“My father?” My heart almost tore through my chest. “You knew my father?”

“I did.” He crouched down in front of me, the hem of his black jacket touching the hardwood floor. “Your father and I, we were cousins. We grew up together.” A kind of sadness clouded the blue of his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after he died. I should have come for you sooner, but I didn’t think your mother would…” He glanced away as if the thought pained him. “Jesus.” He straightened and turned around, pacing while holding his hands in front of his mouth. Even a child like me could see he struggled with whatever he was thinking at that moment. “I’m sorry, Elijah.” He looked at me, and his apology made my chest hurt, causing tears to sting my eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, but I am now. And you’ll never want for anything again.”

He rushed toward me and placed his hands on my shoulders—strong, big hands that squeezed tight. “I promised your father a long time ago that if anything should happen, that I’d take care of you. Unfortunately, life hasn’t been kind to me the last few years, and I lost track of what was important. But I’m here now, and I plan on keeping my promise to your father.” He touched my cheek, almost like a father would. “You’ll be happy with us. I have a son your age. His name is Marcello. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”

Wait. What? I inched closer. “Am I going with you?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I’m going to take care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of.”

“But I…” I looked at Gianni standing across the room, watching us. “I thought I was staying here with him.”

“No, boy. Gianni just helped to get you out of that house, away from those bad people.”

“But I want to stay.” I shrugged out of Mr. Russo’s hold and scrambled toward Gianni as I looked up. “I want to stay with you. Please. Let me stay here with you. I’ll be good. You won’t even know I’m here. I can cook. I can clean. I can work for extra money. I can do anything, but please,” a tear slipped down my cheek, “please let me stay here with you.”

I didn’t know why I was so desperate to stay with Gianni. It wasn’t like I knew him better than I did Mr. Russo. They were both just strangers to me. But there was something about the man who rescued me, something that made me want to stay close to him.

“Please, Gianni,” I begged. “Let me stay here…with you.”

Gianni looked over at Mr. Russo. “Elijah, why don’t you watch some television while Mr. Russo and I go talk in the kitchen privately for a moment? Okay?”

A part of me wanted to beg him one more time so he could see how desperate I was to stay here with him. It was stupid, and I couldn’t explain it. I just didn’t want to go anywhere else.

Reluctantly, I nodded and sat down on the couch. The fabric was rough and the seat firm. Something told me Gianni didn’t watch much television, which was great since all Roland did was sit in front of the TV, his hand in his pants and large belly showing from underneath his shirts which were two sizes too small. I hoped to God the devil didn’t give him any mercy as he burned in hell right now.

Gianni switched on the television, turning up the volume so I couldn’t eavesdrop. I pretended to watch the cartoon, pretended to like it while I anxiously waited for them. It seemed like hours, my stomach twisted in knots while my fate rested in the palms of their hands.

Gianni cleared his throat, and I jumped up, my gaze darting between the two men.

“Mr. Russo agreed that you could stay here—”

“Thank y—”

He held up his hand. “But it’s not permanent,” he continued. “At least, not yet. We’ll give it some time, see how it goes. If it works out, great. If not, Mr. Russo here has a room waiting for you at his ridiculously large estate.”

Mr. Russo frowned, and Gianni shot him a smug grin.

“Thank you.” I swayed on my feet and cupped my elbow with my other hand. “Sir,” I looked at Mr. Russo, “you said you knew my father.”

He nodded and came closer, waiting for me to continue.

“Do you…do you know what they did to Ellie?”

He arched a brow, glanced to Gianni and then back at me. “Ellie?”

I nodded.

“Boy…who is Ellie?”

“She’s my younger sister. They did something to her. Roland and my mom. Roland, he…” I swallowed hard, “he choked me, and I passed out. When I woke up…Ellie, she was gone.” Tears burned my eyes, my heart aching as if something squeezed it tight. “They, um…they acted like I was crazy, pretended that Ellie didn’t exist. But they did something to her. I know they did.” The more I spoke, the angrier the pain got. The more I missed her, wishing she was here now, with Gianni and me—knowing that we had finally been saved.

“Son,” Mr. Russo sat down on the couch in front of me, “you didn’t have a little sister.”

“I did. I mean…I do. Her name is Ellie. She’s younger than me. They did something to her. I know they did.”

“Your dad never…” He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Elijah, is it possible that Ellie is your step-sister or half-sister?”

“No. No.” I shook my head, my pulse racing. “Ellie is my sister. My real sister.” My skin started to crawl, my thoughts scattered in a million directions.

This wasn’t happening. Not again.

“Ellie is my real sister,” I shouted. I didn’t mean to, but my thoughts were so loud I had to raise my voice to hear myself speak. “She’s my real sister, and I know they hurt her. They either took her away or…” tears slipped down my face, “or they killed her.”

“It’s okay, boy.” Gianni rushed over and placed his hands on my shoulders. “It’s okay. Calm down.” He turned to face Mr. Russo. “Are we sure there was no girl?”

“Not that I was aware of,” Mr. Russo muttered. “I know Roland had a girl—what was her name? Harley?”

“Harley?” I exclaimed. “No. No. That’s Ellie. That’s my little sister. Look,” I moved closer, “I don’t know what they did to her or what happened. All I know is that Roland didn’t have a daughter. It’s always just been Ellie. There is no Harley.”

“Elijah, no.” Mr. Russo’s face fell as if it pained him to see me like this—so worried and desperate to find my sister. “Roland did have a daughter. She lives with her mom.”

“No!” I yelled, and rage exploded from my chest as I grabbed the lamp that stood on the side table, smashing it on the ground. I couldn’t stop myself—not while my insides broke into tiny pieces just like the porcelain lamp.

“Elijah!” Gianni’s voice ricocheted through the living room, frightening my rage back into its cage. “Control,” he snapped. “Get control of yourself.”

His reprimand made my cheeks burn, and I could no longer look him in the eye as embarrassment flooded over me. So I slipped into the corner, my back sliding down the wall until my ass touched the cold ground.

“I think we should take him to a doctor. Get him checked out,” Mr. Russo remarked, and I refused to look up. “We have no idea what kind of trauma this kid’s been through. I’ll arrange an appointment with a child psychologist first thing in the morning.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest, burying my face against my arms, rocking like a crazy person. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe Roland and my mom were right.

“Give me a few days with the boy first,” Gianni said. “Before we get doctors involved.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Just a few days.”

Silence settled around us, and I still didn’t look up. I didn’t want to look at their faces, see the pity on their expressions while their thoughts and logic convinced them that I had been abused into madness.

“Okay,” I heard Mr. Russo concede. “But if you can’t get through to him, he’s coming to live with us where I can keep an eye on his counseling.”

His every word crawled down my spine, the thought of seeing doctors and getting counseling making me feel sick to my stomach.

The door slammed shut, and I heard Gianni’s footsteps. “Look at me.”

I clenched my jaw.

“Elijah, I said look at me.”

I lifted my head, my gaze slowly slipping to where he sat on the couch, elbows on his knees and clutching his hands together.

“We need to talk, but first, you need to dry those tears and get control. Otherwise, talking won’t do us any good.”

I remained silent.

“Okay?” he urged, and I swallowed hard before wiping the tears from my face. Angry tears. Hopeless tears. My tears.

“Now,” he inched to the edge of his seat, “are you ready to hear what I have to say?”

I bit my lip and nodded, pulling my legs closer against my chest.

“I believe you.”

My heart hiccupped. “You do?”

“I do. I believe you have a little sister and that her name is Ellie. I also believe that those monsters who did such a piss-poor job raising you tried to take her away from you.”

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “Why? Mr. Russo doesn’t believe me. Why do you?”

“Because I’ve seen her. I’ve seen Ellie.”

I leaped to my feet, my heart about to tear through my ribs. “Do you know where she is? Is she okay? Can we go get her?”

“Calm down, boy.” He held up his hands. “It was a while ago, and unfortunately, I don’t know what they did to her. But I promise we will figure it out. If she is out there, I will do everything I can to help you find her. Okay?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, casting my gaze down to the hardwood floors, a single moment of hope causing an avalanche of disappointment.

“Elijah. I swear to you, if she’s out there, I will find her. But you need to do something for me first. Now, look at me.”

I did, and the second I looked into his eyes I could see his determination. I could see the trust, the belief, the bond.

“Sit down and listen to what I’m about to say.”

I took a seat across from him, curious and scared at the same time.

“Sometimes, we need to give the world what it wants in order to get what we want.”

I frowned in question.

“Manipulation, if you want to call it that.” He shifted. “You want to stay here with me, don’t you?”

I licked my lips, my heart beating incredibly fast. “Yes, sir.”

“You want to find your sister?”

“Yes. Sir.”

He tilted his head to the side, his salt and pepper hair touching the top of his ear. “Then you give Mr. Russo what he wants so you can get what you want.”

“I don’t understand. How—”

“It’s simple. He feels guilty for not coming for you sooner, so he’s going to want to be involved every step of the way. Overcompensate by giving you the care he thinks you need,” he shrugged, “and right now, he thinks you need to see a psychiatrist. So what you have to do is not give him any reason to believe that you need counseling. That you are happy here with me. Stable.”

My top lip curled. “So, I have to lie? Pretend that Ellie doesn’t exist?”

“Exactly. If you don’t, he will take you and force you to see a doctor. If you give them any reason to think you’re crazy, they will treat you like you’re crazy. And that, dear boy, will take away every chance you have of ever finding your sister.”

My head hurt. But in some twisted way, what he said made sense. Mr. Russo already wanted to take me away from here, and right now, here was the only place I wanted to be.

He stood, his six-foot frame towering over me. “From today, you never mention Ellie’s name to anyone but me, understood?”

In my mind, I could still see her face as if I had seen her five minutes ago. Her cute little smile, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she jumped around, laughing. She was the only part of my life that made sense. It was because of her that I held on, never giving in to the darkness Roland and my mom threatened to drown me in. So if pretending was what I needed to do to find her, then that was what I’d do.

I got to my feet and looked up at Gianni, knowing that this was the day my life would change forever. “Understood.”