You Inherit Money, I Inherit Guns

The scarlett velvet curtain was draped elegantly over the dead body. It was stuffed into a ball in his mouth, then swirled around him, covering his feet. He was in a suit and bowtie. His eye were shut, but if they were open pain and death would be overwhelming the face. I placed a ruby in the shape of a cross on his chest where his once beating heart was located. My padre engraved 'victor' in beautiful script on the horizontal bar. I stepped back and admired my artwork. "Padre! Ho finito l'assegnazione!" I shouted down a dim hallway. One of my "fathers" came into the room to judge my assignment.

"Beautiful, me figlia," he whispered, tucking a strand of my black hair behind my ear. "You blood father would be proud." I nodded. I knew barely any English because I had moved here from Sicily about two years ago, but could sense his pride.

"Padre? Sovrano mio padre?" I said, a smile creeping across my face.

"Si, Violetta. Sovrano, your father." My grin grew wider as he walked the eight year old me to the black car waiting outside.