Pesci watched as Ghiaccio and Formaggio hauled in more boxes from the delivery truck outside. He saw that each package was missing a return address.
No sender.
"Again? Who keeps sending these things?!" Ghiaccio raged. "Who the fuck sends thirty-six goddamned packages with no return address?! Is this a fucking joke?!"
This was all too familiar. Pesci had a bad feeling in his stomach. He didn't like this.
"Don't open them," Pesci said.
"We need to know what they are," Illuso said. "Why are there so many?" Illuso and Melone cut them open and examined them carefully.
"They're frames. They're not paintings though," Melone commented.
"Is this some kind of modern art? There's something strange in them," Formaggio added.
"What I wanna know is who the fuck sent all these?" Ghiaccio snapped.
"No, no, no, no, no, no," Pesci panicked. He couldn't watch this again. It had left him sleepless for a month afterward. He didn't want to see Sorbet like that again. He looked around for Prosciutto for support but couldn't find him. He wasn't in the room.
"Wait, take them out of the frames and line them up," Risotto instructed. The squad began taking each blue block out of the picture frames.
"No! Don't do it!" He begged.
"Pesci, shut up!" Ghiaccio said as he took his two pieces and stacked them in a line.
"I can't see this again! I can't! Stop it!" Each piece slowly revealed a slender body. It wasn't the right structure to be Sorbet's. The toes had no nail polish on them.
Then he saw the scar on the bicep of the right arm that Pesci had witnessed being torn off.
He started crying.
"No! It's not, it can't be! He didn't do anything!"
The last few blocks were arranged and he saw Risotto fall to his knees as tears slipped down his face. He looked so sad. He'd never seen Risotto show any real emotion before, except towards the one now encased in formalin.
The look of terror in Prosciutto's sliced up face made Pesci sob harder. His brother— the man that gave him purpose in this cruel world. The man that protected him, was his savior. Not even he was immune to the savage nature of the world they lived in.
He looked back to Risotto.
He loved Fra very much. He sobbed for Risotto, he sobbed for his team who had to witness all this again, and he sobbed for his fallen brother, the man who had given him everything.
A box sat at Pesci's feet. He reluctantly picked it up and opened it.
It was Prosciutto's necklace.
"FRATELLO!" Pesci screamed. A gunshot was heard somewhere in the house. Pesci looked up and saw Formaggio at the doorway of Risotto's room.
"Oh my god, Riz!" Formaggio yelled. Sometimes people can't handle things like that so they kill themselves because it's easier.
Just like Gelato.
Pesci cried as the scene faded.
You're useless, no one wants you on this team. They all hate you. A female voice spoke in his ear. You're nothing but a failure. A coward. Pesci believed the words and cried harder.
When he opened his eyes he saw Prosciutto standing in front of him. He looked angry. He smacked Pesci in the face.
"What the fuck are you crying about? Buck the hell up! You're so lame." That wasn't the first time Prosciutto had hit him but he hit everyone. He'd always done it when Pesci really needed to get his shit together. Pesci didn't like it but he understood it. He needed to get a grip.
"I'm sorry, Fra. I thought you were dead."
"Dead? No. Obviously I'm fine, I'm right here. But you and I aren't fine. By a long shot." Pesci didn't understand his words.
"What does that mean?" Pesci said.
"You failed the goddamned mission, Pesci! What do I always say? Never back down! Hold your ground! And what do you do at the first stand fight? You fucking crumble." Prosciutto accused. "I fucked up bringing you on the team, and now that's on me. I don't know what I saw in you when I found you."
"You said I remind you of your brother," Pesci said sheepishly.
"My brother! Ha! How could I see someone as dumb and useless as you as a brother?" Prosciutto spat. Pesci's eyes welled. "Oh, you better not be about to fucking cry on me."
"No, Fratello."
"Stop calling me that! I'm not your goddamned brother!" Prosciutto snapped. "I'm done. Consider yourself no longer apart of this Squadra." He started to turn away.
"But Prosciutto, where am I gonna go?" Pesci grabbed his arm.
"Not my problem anymore," he said coldly and pulled his sleeve out of Pesci's hand.
The scene dissolved again only for yet another to take its place and assault his senses further.
Ghiaccio couldn't see.
He scraped away at his visor but nothing changed. What the fuck? The helmet melted away so his head was exposed. He turned his head to look around.
Nothing.
He took his glasses off, rubbed them, and put them back on. His breathing increased and he was nearly hyperventilating. He opened his eyes as wide as he could but only the inky night was visible. His vision was completely dark. At least when he was blinded as a kid he could make out some shapes and light. This was all-consuming darkness. No connection to the world around him other than sound.
He heard only screams. A scream he recognized.
"Ghia!" It was blood-curdling and full of suffering. "Ghia! Oh god!" Ghiaccio turned his head in the direction of the voice.
"Melone?!" he called out but he only heard crying.
Ghiaccio covered his ears. Melone was outside on the roof, he wasn't here.
This wasn't real.
The screams were replaced by those of Pesci. And laughing, a female's smooth velvety voice in his ear.
He will die because you lost control. Pesci relied on you and you were too proud to work as a team.
No, he'd done everything he could. It was a shitty attempt, he'd be the first to admit, but he'd tried to patch Pesci up as soon as he'd gotten into trouble. You don't care about him or anyone else. Stop pretending that you do.
No, that wasn't true! He did care about his team. Yes, he'd argued with them a lot but they were still his family whether he'd actually said it out loud or not. He'd felt terrible the night Gelato attempted suicide because he was family.
That's not why you felt bad. You caused it. You pushed him over the edge, the voice crooned in his ear.
NO! Melone said it would have happened either way!
You speak thoughtlessly. Actions have consequences, Ghiaccio.
He could see now. Ghiaccio stood in the hallway outside of Gelato and Sorbet's room. Gelato glared at him from inside the room, switchblade in hand. His eyes were red and darkly ringed. He flipped his blade open and shut repeatedly and it put Ghiaccio on edge.
"You're right, I'm nothing. I'm just a selfish bitch. Just a fucking drama queen who can't follow orders," Gelato spat.
"I didn't mean any of that! I didn't know what you were feeling, what you were going through."
"As if that mattered. As if it were okay to treat me this way even if I wasn't borderline?" Gelato snapped. Oh god. He was right. He thought it was wrong that he'd said these things because Gelato was already unstable, but what about Formaggio or Illuso? The things he'd said to them.
You plant seeds in the mind and eventually, they will sow doubt and despair in the hearts of the people around you. The truly awful things he'd said. He really didn't hate Formaggio, he was annoying sometimes but he was also family. But he couldn't help wondering if in quiet moments doubts came to all of those he'd infected with his words. Gelato, Sorbet, Formaggio, Illuso, Prosciutto, Pesci, Melone, even Risotto. None had been unscathed by his sharp tongue.
"I just want to die."
"No, Gelato, don't. Sorbet needs you. We all need you here. You're family. You're my family," Ghiaccio begged.
"Should have thought of that before you threw your tantrum," Gelato whispered, flicked open his blade and slit his own throat.
Ghiaccio screamed and the scene faded. Darkness overtook him again.
He's just one of many. How many people in high school did you treat this way? How many never made it to the current day?
Stop it! I didn't do this! Ghiaccio screamed.
You need people to hate you because you hate yourself.
Shut up! Shut up! You don't know anything about me! Ghiaccio thought.
I know everything about you, Ghiaccio Bianchi, the voice said. I can see inside your mind, I see what you fear. I know what you've done, and I know what you're going to do.
You don't know the future, Ghiaccio countered.
The past always repeats when people don't learn from their mistakes. You'll lose him too soon enough. It's only a matter of time…
Fuck you! He's fine!
He's broken. You see it in his eyes every day.
He's not broken!
Always lying to yourself. Too afraid to face the truth when it stares you in the face every day.
He could see again but he was standing in his room. Melone was standing in the doorway sobbing.
"I'm trying, Ghia. I really am but I can't fix what's already broken. Everything you said was true! I'm a rapist and I'm fucked up, and I don't deserve to live!" He sobbed.
"No, I just said those things because I didn't want to admit the truth!" Ghiaccio insisted.
"Stop lying to me Ghia! The only time you're ever truthful is when you're pissed! That's the one time I can really trust what you say—when you're yelling at me! It's the only dynamic in this relationship that makes any sense to me!"
"Melone, I'm sorry. I just don't know how to handle being around you. You completely baffle me. I've never been so confused around another person before," Ghiaccio admitted.
"There's nothing to be baffled about. You hate me and that's all there is to it!" Melone yelled.
"No, I don't. I actually think I might love you," Ghiaccio said anxiously, as he stepped in closer.
Melone slapped him.
"Why are doing this to me? Do you think this is funny? I told you I like guys so you make fun of me for it? I know, no one respects me for being a whore, but I still have feelings too, Ghiaccio," Melone sneered through bleary eyes. "That's all you and Fugo do, isn't it? Just make fun of me. Well, I'm glad you found someone you really love. I hope you'll be happy together." Melone turned and ran into the hallway. Ghiaccio raced after him.
"Melone, no, you're wrong. I'm not with Fugo!" Melone ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. "Melone! I love you!" His voice cracked as he tried the handle. It was locked. He looked to his right to see Illuso standing there leaning against the wall.
"Yeah, he won't come out. He smashed the mirror so I can't see what's going on," Illuso sighed, but he looked worried.
"No no no no no no no! MELONE! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" Ghiaccio pounded on the door violently and then froze the lock. He kicked the door open and found Melone laying in the tub filled with crimson. His lips were pale and his eyes lifeless.
"NO! MELONE!" Ghiaccio cried and ran to his partner, pulling him close.
"You're poison to everything you love," Gelato said next to him with the switchblade still jutting out of his throat.
Ghiaccio looked down at Melone's pallid face and dead eyes. The pale lips moved.
"It could never be." Words that stabbed into his cold heart. Words that were the reason he locked his feelings away and refused to acknowledge them.
The permafrost cracked in two.
He can never love you, the voice whispered intimately.
Ghiaccio cried.
No one ever could. That's why she left.
He stood in the kitchen of his childhood home. He was twelve again and his mother sat at the table with her head in her hands. Her long curly sapphire hair vibrantly lit by the morning sun. She uncovered her face and he saw tears shining like diamonds on her cheeks. She was breathtaking, and despite her sadness, Ghiaccio was enchanted by her beauty.
She then stood without looking at Ghiaccio and walked back to the bedroom. He quickly followed her entranced by the very sight of her. It was more vivid than any dream he'd ever had before.
This was real. She was here.
His heart melted more, he loved her so much. He ran into the room and wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face into her back.
"I missed you so much. I'm sorry Dad's such a dick. We can leave him together. Start over. Make a better life." A fresh start, a chance at life. Ghiaccio wanted that more than anything. To live a normal childhood with his mother the way he was supposed to. One without stands and death and crime. He could be reborn.
His mother turned around and held his shoulders as she looked at him.
"I can't take you with me."
"But why?" Ghiaccio's voice cracked.
"I hate your father. And I don't want anything to do with that life anymore. And that includes you."
The scene fell away and Ghiaccio stood in darkness. He looked down and he was drenched in blood.
"You're everything he is. You hold his hatred in your soul. Everything in you is tainted by that man." Her words cut like icicles.
He couldn't handle it anymore.
"Mommy…?" His eyes welled up with tears.
"I don't have a son," was her cruel reply. Suddenly, there were hands. So many hands. Hands of all the people he'd killed over the years. Hands of the people he'd destroyed with his words. They pulled him down into the darkness, and the blindness returned.
"Mommy…" the assassin sobbed.
Angela watched as he curled in on his knees and heaved sobs. There was something satisfying in breaking a human spirit. The display barely touched her, and yet there was still something that flickered inside her. Perhaps it was pity, or just solidarity. His words echoed many sentiments of her own. This was the curse of Caramella that Angela lived with every day. The doubt, the fear, anxiety, and paranoia exemplified. It was only fitting that another was forced to go through the same. Misery loves company, or so they say.
She knew whatever he saw inside in his mind would live with him. It would be a scar that he would carry with him always. As she would be forced to until the day she died, either by fate or her own hand. She would have to see how events played out before she could say which.
Ghiaccio had released his stand and Pesci began to bleed again. Angela bent down and cut Ghiaccio several more times. It would be merciful this way. Letting them die. It would also ensure Andréa's safety and Tulmine and Terra's. She held no other loyalties, certainly not to that of Passione.
Sale entered the hallway and examined the scene before him.
"Looks like you're doing fine on your own then," he observed.
"Yeah. It's not hard once you get them to break," Angela said as she tapped Ghiaccio with her foot.
"You're scary as hell, you know that?" Sale said.
"So I've been told." She enjoyed the sweet silence of using her stand. She reveled in these peaceful moments when she couldn't hear Caramella. She almost felt... normal.
"We should go to Andréa. The other assassins are still here. These two will be dead soon anyway." Angela gave the crying assassin one last shove with her foot and they walked away towards Andréa's office.