Finding Forgiveness

The driveway had filled with trucks and dozens of men, walked back and forth all with machine guns strapped over their chests and a determined look in their eye.

In between making orders, Andrea glanced over to me and looked me up and down before thrusting the clipboard he was holding to the man next to him and coming over to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked as he sat beside me on the wall.

“You’ll see,” he said. “All in good time.”

Of course, that was the answer. It usually was.

“Come,” he announced, standing up and holding out his hand. “I want to show you something.”

I looked up but didn’t move. He raised an impatient eyebrow, maintaining eye cold contact and I eventually stood up. Instead of taking his hand, I walked passed him which of course only amused him.

“By all means, lead the way, Blanca,” he said. “To the garden.”

I walked through the house to the back garden with Andrea following me. Luciano was sat on the patio, sharpening a stick with a knife. He looked up at me and smiled before lifting the stick up to his face and examining the sharp point.

There were three empty beer bottles on the table which Andrea then grabbed before balancing them on the wall at the edge of the patio.

“You ever shot a gun, Blanca?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

He smiled before taking the gun that had been strapped around his chest off and holding it out.

“Take it,” he said.

He held it in both hands, the black metal gleaming in the sun and the weight of it tensing his forearms. After a little more encouragement, I finally took it from him and stood motionless, completely unsure of what to do.

“This should be good…” Luciano remarked from behind us.

He let out a short laugh before stepping behind me and reaching around to guide my hands to the correct position.

“If you’re gonna be in this cartel, Blanca, you’ve got to learn to shoot,” he said.

“You trust me?” I asked. “What if I shoot you?”

“You won’t,” he replied confidently as he kissed my neck. “Now shut up and lemme show you what to do.”

He brought one hand underneath, towards the front and the other to the trigger and kept both of his on top of mine.

“Got it?” he asked once I was steadily holding it.

I nodded and keeping one hand still on top of mine on the gun, he brought the other to my waist and turned my body to the side.

“Keep both eyes on the middle bottle and pull the trigger,” he said.

I did as he said but I was not greeted with the sound of breaking glass. Only the loud bang of a shot.

“Hold it steady, Blanca,” he said gripping my arms. “Use your strength and try again.”

This time I locked my eyes on the bottle and took a deep breath, keeping myself as still as possible. Andrea slowly let go of me and stepped to the side.

The bottle was brown glass and small, probably only a pint. The label, although written in Spanish, I could tell read something about a tiger and it was 7% alcohol.

I shot.

The glass shattered and crumbled to the floor in pieces.

“Good job, Blanca,” Andrea said slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Impressive.”

He then walked over to the wall and crouched to pick up the broken glass.

His back was turned, I still had the gun.

Slowly, I raised it and focussed again. This time not on a glass bottle, but on Andrea’s head.

I momentarily glanced over to Luciano, who had noticed my advancement. His eye glistened as if they were encouraging me, begging me for the drama whilst he sat relaxed in his chair, making no movement towards stopping me.

I could feel the courage bubbling inside. He was turned, there was still glass on the floor.

This is it. My chance.

My finger played at the trigger, feeling the simple piece of metal with so much potential.

Hands? Steady. Target? Close and stationary. Chance of missing? low.

All I had to do was pull the trigger.

My target then got to his feet and turned to face me. Unsurprised by my position (aiming a huge gun right at him), a gave a dark glare.

“Go ahead, Blanca. I’m unarmed. You have the control,” he urged holding his hands up in a relaxed manner.

I kept it pointing at him as he stepped closer, a menacing grin creeping onto his face.

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I lowered the gun and he laughed shortly.

“As I said, you won’t shoot me,” he said. “Now shoot those last two bottles and don’t miss.”

An hour later, I found myself piled in the back of a truck with six or seven of Andrea’s men and the light in my life, Luciano. Andrea still roamed the drive, going from truck to chuck and giving orders whilst we just sat patiently. I still had no idea what exactly we were waiting for or why I was involved but I suppose it was an entertaining break from day after day of existing solely in that house which was beginning to drive me insane.

Luciano sat next to me, far too close to comfort. Space was not abundant but there was no need for such extreme proximity.

“Are you a half-wit?” Luciano hissed in my ear.

I was well accustomed to insults from Luciano but this one seemed to come from nowhere.

“Why the fuck didn’t you shoot him?” he added in a low growl.

I looked up at him and frowned, “Who’s side are you really on?”

“Just answer the fucking question,” he snapped.

I looked down at my hands, “I couldn’t. I don’t know why.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of such weakness,” he scoffed. “He’s properly got you wrapped around his little finger.”