The Chronicles of City Lights and Modern Love

For at least a week after the trip to the grave yard, I didn't speak to anyone and I barely ate. The only time I left the grounds of the house was to go running, which had always been something I did when I wanted to think about something, or when I didn't want to think about anything except putting one foot in front of the other with the aim of depleting my energy enough that my body would be forced to succumb to sleep.

I wasn't sure whether it was of his own volition, or whether he had been appointed as my bodyguard by Neil, but whenever I would go running, Carmine would always be no more than fifty steps behind. He didn't try to speak to me, and he didn't try to make me feel better, which I came to appreciate immensely.

Finally, one day during my run, my mind found a steely resolve. I'd progressed from shock to anger. When I returned to the house, I walked straight to Neil's study, where he could very often be found.

"Tell me what happened," I told him sternly, as I walked in without knocking.

He looked up from the laptop sitting on the desk in front of him with what appeared to be a concerned look on his face.

"Please, sit down," he said, gesturing to the seat across from him. "I'll tell you everything that I know, but there are still things I am yet to find out myself."

An hour later, I walked out of Neil's study with a new-found lust for revenge. I'd wondered why my grandfather had brought me here, thinking it would seem a fruitless bid to convince me to join the Mafia. However, upon finding out that Luciano's death had been at the hands of a rival syndicate, I had more than enough motivation to join him. The only thing on my mind was that I needed to destroy whoever did wrong by Luciano.

As I wandered downstairs, I passed Carmine sitting on a lounge watching something on a screen almost too large to be logical. Sensing my presence, he jumped up and followed me.

"Are you OK?" He asked earnestly, putting a hand on my shoulder so that I would turn to face him.

I thought for a moment. I certainly wouldn't say I was "OK". I had a purpose and a clearer mind now, but I didn't know if I'd ever by OK again.

"No," I sighed.

Carmine's brow furrowed. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You can take me back to the cemetery."

Carmine nodded and, as I made my way outside, he followed me silently. He said nothing as I approached one of the Bougainvillea vines and tore a couple of lengths of it from the pillars around which they were entwined, and he remained quiet as I made it into a wreath.

I looked at the puzzled look on his face. "Bougainvilleas symbolise protection," I explained. "Luciano used to make wreaths out of them for me to wear when we were younger."

"It sounds like he was a really great guy."

"He was," I replied, a tear rolling down my cheek as I thought about how caring Luciano had been, even at such a young age. It upset me that I would never know if he carried that with him into adulthood.

"Come on," I said quietly. "Let's go."

As I opened the door to step out of the car when we arrived back at the cemetery ten minutes later, Carmine said, "Do you want me to stay here?"

I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. This wasn't an experience I wanted to share with anyone, let alone Carmine. I wanted as much as possible to keep my past with Luciano separate from the situation I was in at that moment in time. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding his death, my friendship with Luciano represented the happiest, most pure part of my past and I didn't want it tainted with this new world I was about to become a part of.

I slowly walked to the site where his grave sat and placed the wreath against his headstone, lamenting the fact it was too late to protect him.