Vincente struggled to stay awake, even as his mother piled another helping of risotto in front of him. Only Matteo bothered to wait for him to return before he began his meal.
"You don't have to wait for me, you know. Just eat with the others. I don't give a damn."
"I know," Matteo began with a sullen laugh, "You don't give a damn about anything."
Interestingly enough, their mother slapped her wooden spoon down on the table at her younger son's foul language. How very hypocritical. Vincente glared at her from the corner of his eye as he shoveled down his dinner. It was almost as if she had forgotten about their confrontation that morning. More than likely, his father talked some sense into her. If Vincente ever decided to walk out the door, taking his income with him, then the family would likely have to give up the house. Maybe the youngest children would even have to go to work.
Speaking of the devil, the middle child and the hope of the family, the illustrious, twelve year old Federico, came stomping down the hallway.
"Coming to check up on us, sweetheart?" his mother asked with a nurturing, cooing tone.
Vincente lurched forward as he feigned the urge to throw up in his mouth. She never spoke that way to him. Perhaps she did when he was a toddler, but once Matteo came along and she sent him on odd jobs to help support the family, all the coddling came to an end. Vincente was almost certain she saw him as more of a roommate than a son. Just once in his life, he wanted to be taken care of instead of serving as the caregiver.
"It's noisy, that's all," Federico complained. "It's already midnight, and I'm trying to sleep."
"We're sorry, love. We'll keep it down from now on, and-"
"No, no we won't." Vincente glared down at the boy with a look of sheer disgust. "I do enough for you. I came back from a sixteen hour work day. If I want to talk, then I will. What do you need more sleep for, anyways? You do it all day."
His mother spoke to him in a slow, placating tone. "You know he goes to school with the others. He needs his rest."
"And I don't?!" Perhaps it was due to his drunken stupor, or his lingering bitterness towards his mother, but his voice shook the very foundation of their home as he screamed bloody murder. "Do you have any idea how exhausted I am?"
"Are you going to complain about work again?" Federico mumbled under his breath with a tired sigh. "You know, if you didn't want to work a stupid dead-end job, you should have gone to school like me. You ruined your own life, and you don't get to complain. You're-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Vincente had already grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall of their home, leaving a bloody gash where the boy's skull hit the stone. His entire body shook with unrestrained rage as he clenched his fingers around his younger brother's throat hard enough to leave angry, purple marks against his flesh. The next moments passed by in a blur. The entire household awoke, rushing to the kitchen in a panicked frenzy. His father's arms wound around his own, tugging desperately in an attempt to free Federico from his grip. All Vincente could focus on was the boy's metamorphosis: a burst of color that changed his once smooth, pale cheeks to a flushed pink, to a blossoming red, to a deep shade of blue. Matteo took charge of the other children and hid behind the counter as his mother screamed at him to "release her baby this instant."
What about me? Am I not your son?
"I-I'm going to call the guardsmen, and they'll throw you in prison for the rest of your life if I have anything to say about it!" she wailed at the top of her lungs.
"…No you won't. You'd let me kill him if I wanted to; you'd even help me bury the body afterwards. If you want any of these little bastards to keep on going to school, you don't have any choice but to put up with me." As he released the boy, allowing his limp, unconscious body to tumble to the ground, Vincente took in a series of shaky breaths. Lost in the moment, he savored his catharsis. "You think I don't understand what you're doing? I don't need an education to know that you're taking advantage of me. Sacrifice the eldest to provide for the youngest. That's charming."
"He's still breathing, thank the Lord." His father whispered, ignoring his eldest son's complaints. His mother fell to her knees next to her husband, and the two shared a tearful embrace.
"You stupid boy! They're going to school to help all of us! This is for the sake of the entire family!" Her voice, laced with venom, held such hatred that it would have turned anyone else's blood to ice. Vincente, however, had already grown numb to her scorn. "Your brothers will become scholars and priests! They would have remembered all the sacrifices we made for their sake, but instead, now, all they will remember is this! They will never forgive you, do you hear me?! They will raise all of us up, and they'll cast you out onto the streets! And do you know what, Vincente? I won't blame them. I won't, and neither will their father, and… and… Oh, how could you do this to your own brother?"
"What did you expect? I'm your son. I'm not exactly the nurturing type. Perhaps if they'd be so quick to abandon me, I should go ahead and cut them off first. How about I pack my bags and leave tonight?"
"No! V-Vincente, please, you know your mother. She's just… Why don't you sit down and finish your dinner? Mother and I will take care of everything. You've had a long day. Relax and take a rest."
"I was right, wasn't I? You'd let me get away with murder so long as I still proved useful. You disgust me." He ran his trembling fingers through his hair as he forced himself to relax. "I'm going to bed. Don't bother me."
His parents' faint whispers died down into a tense silence as he made his way towards his room. The door to his siblings' bedroom creaked open, and Matteo poked his head through the crack. He drew back in fear when Vincente approached.
"Are you afraid of me, Matteo?" He didn't know why he even bothered to stop and ask; he was exhausted.
"…Do you hate us?"
With his energy drained, Vincente considered his words carefully. He didn't have the willpower to start another argument. "Despite my threats, I haven't left yet, now have I?"
A hesitant smile graced Matteo's face as he opened the door wider. He turned towards his younger siblings and urged them to go to bed before exiting their room. A look of worry replaced any relief, however, as he looked upon his brother's disheveled state.
"Y-Your hands…"
Vincente raised them up towards the moonlight to inspect the damage. His brother and father had clawed at them until they bled. It was nothing, however, to the terror and agony that he inflicted on Federico. He'd do it all again if he had the chance.
"Oh, am I bleeding? I didn't feel a thing."
Matteo couldn't maintain eye contact. He studied the cracks in the wooden floor as he spoke. "You're… You've gotten mean, Brother. I've always taken your side in the past, but this time, I can't… You could have killed him."
"I wanted to. I would have even turned myself in afterwards. Had them hang me. One last 'fuck you' to this family from beyond the grave."
"Don't joke like that!" Matteo pleaded with a quiet whine. "…You know, Vincente, maybe you should leave. I-I'm not trying to make you go or anything! I'd miss you, but… Well, everyone might be better off, you included. Mother and Father don't like arguing with you. You don't see it because you storm off to work afterwards, but Mother always cries after you fight with her."
"That's because everything I say is true," Vincente countered with a scornful hiss.
"Maybe. But it still hurts to hear it." Wise as always. A shame Matteo lacked the hands to record his thoughts in writing. "And if you left, you'd only have to work to support yourself. You could finally relax a little."
"And if the brats had to work? Mother and Father would flood Palermo with their tears."
"I think our brothers would end up there regardless of whether they went to school or not. Even if they're educated, they're still… Well, you know. We don't have any special lineage or honorable titles. Who would ever choose a peasant who attended a mediocre school over a nobleman's son with the finest quality of education? Do you really think they'll succeed? Federico, and Alessio, and Lorenzo?"
"Of course not," Vincente muttered as he entered the dark confines of his room. Matteo followed him in and sat down on the stool in the corner.
An awkward tension filled the room before Matteo dared to speak again. "If you know this is all for nothing, then why do you stay?"
As if he hadn't asked himself that very question time and again. Without bothering to wash the drying blood caked onto the back of his hands, Vincente collapsed onto his bed and rubbed at his eyes. By all means, he should have left ages ago. His hard work went unappreciated by spoiled children with horrible attitudes and callous parents with unreasonable expectations. Of course, at his core, he already knew why he endured it all. With a dismissive laugh, he peeled off one of his socks and tossed it in Matteo's direction, watching with amusement as his brother recoiled in horror.
"Well, what can I say? I'm the fiercely loyal type. Someone has to take care of you."