I am angry because of my father, my knuckles turned white as I balled my hands into tiny fists. Seven year old Johnny Zacchara had been a nuisance to Anthony ever since he had killed Maria.
"There you are...come greet you're father. I busted my ass for you today, that's what I'm doing this for. I'm making this money for you, you'll run this empire one day." Anthony leered at Johnny, sitting on the black Italian leather couch in the main room. Johnny had been playing with his race cars in the living room before Anthony got home, it was one of the only things he had left of Maria.
"Why couldn't it have been you?" Johnny asked, a mean look in the boys eyes.
"What?" Anthony frowned, unsure of what his son was saying.
"Why couldn't you have shot yourself? You'd be doing a lot of people a favor! I want my mother back." Hot tears sat behind Johnny's eyelids, determined not to cry in front of his father.
"You don't talk to me like that. Your mother didn't know her place, do you want to end up like her. Do you?" Anthony had that crazy glint in his eye, Johnny knew that he had been beat.
"I'm sorry, father. Please forgive me." Johnny sighs, maybe one day he'd finally stand up to Anthony, it wouldn't be today.