[Dawn]
I shake my head in amazement, my voice barely a whisper as the weight of everything settles in. “The people you hang out with.”
His smile is mild again, a faint, almost absent curve of his lips. But it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“What the hell were you thinking?” My voice cracks, the frustration bubbling beneath my skin. I can feel the anger rising in me, sharp and tight in my chest.
He doesn’t meet my gaze, his eyes flitting to the floor, away from me. “I wasn’t exactly doing much of that.” His words come out dry, flat, like he’s numbed himself to the situation. The tension in the air hangs heavy between us.
“Why didn’t you just ask for help? Why didn’t you come to Aldo and me? Luca even? I’m sure he could’ve helped.” My voice is laced with disbelief, tinged with a touch of betrayal. I want to understand, but it’s hard. So hard.
Andre keeps his eyes off me, his hands twitching slightly where they rest on his thighs, as if he can’t even sit still in his own skin. “You don’t know what it’s like to be so desperate. Literally, the only clarity I’ve felt in the last year is right now-having my toe cut off.”
I blink, taken aback, my stomach turning at his words. The sharp scent of blood still lingers in the room, thick and metallic, and for a moment, I almost forget to breathe. The air feels thick with regret, sorrow, and something darker.
“I’m sure there have been plenty of other times,” I mutter, my tone sharper than I intend.
But Andre shakes his head again, a quick, almost frantic motion. “You don’t get it. I’ve been viewing everything as an opportunity to manipulate, make money, or whatever. Even coming back here.”
He finally meets my eyes, and I can see the flicker of something-guilt, shame-swimming there. “I’ve spent the whole time trying to figure out how I could use you all to help myself.”
The confession hits me like a slap to the face, cold and stinging. I feel my heart drop, the weight of it dragging me into a place I don’t want to go.
But I force the words out. “You were desperate,” I say immediately. My voice softens a little, but the hurt doesn’t fade. “You weren’t thinking straight.”
Andre huffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “That doesn’t sound as good coming back as when I said it. Sounds too real.” His eyes flicker away, not meeting mine, as if the truth is too much to bear.
He pauses for a long moment, the silence stretching between us like a heavy fog. His hands shake slightly, betraying the calm facade he’s trying to maintain. “How can you be so forgiving?”
I don’t know what to say at first, the question landing like a punch in my gut. “I never said I forgive you,” I bite my tongue, the words bitter and raw in my mouth. I wonder if I should’ve been more careful, more guarded.
But the truth escapes anyway, spilling out despite myself. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you. We all make mistakes. We all do stupid things. But penalizing someone for being afraid doesn’t make them feel any better about their fear.”
His lips twitch in something like a rueful smile. “You sound like you actually listened to mom as a kid.”
“Didn’t you?” I retort.
Andre purses his lips, his expression turning contemplative. “Guess I should’ve, might’ve kept me from being such a disappointment.”
The words hit like a hammer. “I don’t think you’re a disappointment, Andre; you’re an idiot, but not a disappointment.” The harshness of it feels almost kind in the moment, a strange comfort in calling it like it is.
“I’ve brought you into this. I am a disappointment. And it was evident as soon as Aldo picked me up.” His eyes darken as he stares down at his hands, fingers twitching in agitation. His chest rises and falls with each breath, a struggle against the truth clawing its way to the surface.
“I was trying to be so cool and coy with you all, trying to act like I was this king up north. I wasn’t. I’ve been a rat scurrying about for years. Barely making ends meet and becoming a worse and worse person.” His voice cracks, and for a moment, it sounds almost like a plea.
The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in around us.
The stale air is thick with the scent of fear and blood, the metallic tang lingering in my mouth as he continues, his words spilling out in a torrent. “Yeah, I agreed to kill someone. Yeah, I tried robbing others and tricking people out of their money too. I was horrible. But the worst part of all was coming home and seeing that you were all fine.”
“We’re not all fine-” I snap, the frustration bubbling up, sharp and sudden. I feel the words choking in my throat as my heart starts to race. The anger in me is building, spiraling out of control.
“But you were,” Andre interrupts, his voice raw, the weight of regret heavy in his eyes. “You’d all been living a pretty happy life without me and doing great. Even you and Aldo. Honestly, I’m happy for you.” His voice falters as he says the words, like they hurt more than anything else.
He looks down at the floor again. “It makes sense. You’ve known each other forever, and you guys are the perfect fit. But I had to make it about me. About the brother who came crawling back…”
“Just stop!” I hiss, my words sharp with frustration. Suddenly, it all clicks-why Mom was always so exasperated with us when we acted down. It gets you nowhere. “We need to escape this place, and you need to stop acting like that.”
“You can’t escape these guys; I’ve tried.” His voice is low, defeated. His shoulders sag under the weight of his own helplessness. His eyes are hollow, the spark of hope almost gone.
“Well, we need to, Andre-” I start again, my tone insistent. I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples, the pressure of the moment threatening to burst from me.
The man at the door yells something in Russian, a cruel, mocking laugh escaping him as he glances back at us. His eyes flicker to ensure we’re still where they left us,
and then he turns back, looking out the door again, his heavy boots tapping rhythmically against the cement.
“We need to escape, Andre,” I say again, my voice desperate now.
He looks at me, his eyes empty, defeated. His gaze seems to pierce through me, seeing right into the marrow of my bones. He’s broken.
“Why? Why fight anymore? Gimme one good reason.”
I’ve got one.
I look at him, the words coming out low and steady, but filled with conviction. “Because I’m pregnant. This isn’t about your life on the line, my life on the line, or even Aldo and Luca’s life on the line. It’s about my child’s…”
Andre’s eyes widen, the shock registering too late. He props himself up on his elbows, his breath catching.
“What?”
“Yes!” I hiss, my heart pounding. The anger, the frustration, the fear-it all comes rushing forward in a tidal wave.
“Now, reach up and grab that phone and sheers. If you want to redeem yourself, then do it now, Uncleto-be.”