Chapter Text
It"s over.
All this, for what? Nothing? Was it all in vain?
Months and months and months spent with these people, seeing them, hearing them, touching them. All for nothing. These people were like all the others. They weren"t villains of the books Mama used to read to me when I was a child and life was less complicated. They were innocent people that, yes, killed people, but in this world, you need to choose: it either is you or them. These people chose to save their own skin.
Few people enter the world of organised crime because of passion and desire to really fuck shit up and ruin people"s lives. The payment is good and the protection is even better. People join the world of organised crime because they have mouths to feed, roofs to put over their kids" heads, sick wives that need medication, and parents with too high expectations...
We all have our reasons to do the things we do. Some reasons are more ethical than others. At the end of the day, it all comes down to survival.
I"m not sure how many days went by.
I opened my eyes with the biggest headache I"ve ever had. Actually, my whole body ached. I could barely move. I could barely move my eyes from side to side. But as soon as I opened them, I recognised that ceiling: I was back at Ferrari Manor.
I was lying on a mattress but not on a bed. Just a mattress on the floor. I was in a room on the tiny fourth floor of the Manor, some sort of attic. An old desk with one leg shorter than the others was in front of one of the windows, and a chair with stuffing coming out, in front of the desk. Bars on the windows. Boxes and other things covered by a white sheet in a corner. My right hand, my dominant hand, cuffed to a pipe that went up the wall.
In the beginning, I would spend most of my time asleep, grunting in pain, and crying. Then, it went away. I got better enough to sit on the mattress. Look at the walls. Memorise every pattern of the wallpaper.
Two times a day, I would hear keys turn and would see Checo come in with a tray of food. I was their prisoner, a traitorous rat, but I was still eating well. Checo always looked at me with disdain. Sometimes he would leave just as the tray touched the floor, sometimes he liked to stay and watch me suffer as I tried my best to cut a steak with one hand cuffed. One time, before he left, he spat on my mashed potato. I tried to eat around it but felt so nauseous I had to stop.
Days came and nights too and I wouldn"t do anything. I would lie belly up, turn to the left and twist my right arm until it hurt, I would turn to the right and draw with my finger on the wall, and I would sit up and swing my feet like a child.
I tried to talk to Checo. He was a man of few words. He smiled wickedly and told me that, after I got executed, they would celebrate. Invite the other Families and dance on my body. A bit morbid.
I didn"t answer him. I merely spilled my rice on top of me.
One day, Checo came in with no tray. Just a pen and some paper. He put them on top of the desk and came to me.
-No funny business. - He said.
-Wouldn"t even dare.
He uncuffed me from the pipe and pulled me by the cuffs until I was up. My knees were sore and the feeling of the wood floor under my feet was weird as if this was my first time walking. He pulled me to the table and made me sit on the chair with the messed-up pillow. I sat down. He let go of the cuffs.
-Hand where I can see them.
I put both of my hands on top of the desk, and between them, there was the paper and the pen on top of it. The desk wobbled.
-Write.
I looked at him, confused.
-Write what?
-Whatever you want. To whoever you want. Say goodbye. Ask forgiveness. Tell us to go fuck ourselves. I don"t care. The Boss told us to have some mercy on you and said that maybe you would want to say goodbye to someone. - He answered. - I don"t get him. The ones you killed didn"t have the right to say goodbye to anyone, and neither should you.
He walked away, walked to the mattress and sat down.
-If I were you, I would start writing, time is ticking. - He took his gun out and started fiddling with it. - Just to warn you: my reflexes are better than yours. If you try anything, you"re dead.
I was dead either way.
I grabbed the pen. The empty white paper intimidated me. I didn"t know what to say. To whom to write. My hands shook.
At last, I touched the pen to the paper.
Dear Christian,
How are you? I know we haven"t talked in a while, probably my fault. Knowing you, you"ve been sending me letters with pictures of California to make me jealous. I"ve been very busy and didn"t have time to answer your letters, I"m sorry.
These last few months have been crazy. I have no idea how it happened but we have more clients than ever. I think Zak gave us a good word with his friends and now they all want our meat. I think those friends told their friends too.
A friend of mine came to visit me a couple of months ago. His name is Nyck, we"re childhood friends. Nyck liked the city so much (don"t know why) that he decided to stay and now works at the store. I hired a young guy too, named Richard. He"s also Dutch but doesn"t speak it. He"s a nice guy, Richard.
I no longer walk around with a mean face and stopped isolating myself. I made a lot of friends too. I know I"m not 15 anymore but I discovered that I still like to play marbles. Nyck, Richard and I like to play after we close, we usually play with my new friends too.
Daniel is very funny, he always has a smile on his face and has the weirdest stories ever. Everything happens to him. He is going to marry in the summer. He said he"ll move to Austin and we"ll name his firstborn after me. Sebastian is very smart. When we play cards, he always wins. I"m sure he cheats but I don"t want to say anything. Charles is special. I like Charles. He"s always there for me and worries about me. Always makes sure I"m eating well.
I like them.
How"s California, Christian? Is it everything that Geri dreamed it to be?
I hope we see each other in the near future. Maybe if things calm down over here it"ll be sooner than we think.
Who am I trying to fool? That"ll never happen. I"m sorry Christian. I"m an idiot. You warned me, didn"t you? You told me that if I messed with the wrong people I"d end up dead. You told me that a long time ago, I had time to learn and still I wasn"t able to.
I messed with the wrong people, Christian. This will be the last time you"ll hear from me, it isn"t even worth answering this letter because dead people can"t read.
Since the day you told me that the price of a life was a life, that never left my head. You left but that stayed. One day, I got a letter with the name of the people who killed my family, I put in my moronic head that I needed to get revenge, that way they would finally be able to rest in peace. One day, one of the men who murdered my family, entered the shop, alongside another. Charles and Sebastian. Charles was the one who let me live and Sebastian was one of the ones who killed my mum (but I didn"t know). I was able to get on their good side and they let me join the Family.
Since then I"ve been destroying them from the inside. Them and the other Families. But without knowing, they"ve been destroying me too. They made me kill Nyck, my friend, and made me lose who I really was. I don"t recognise myself, Christian. Sometimes I ask myself if I really lost who I was or if I finally found myself and didn"t like what I found.
I discovered, in the end, that I had been manipulated. Sebastian was the one who sent the letter but I didn"t know. He had been behind my every step all this time. He just used me to do his dirty work. I killed Sebastian but that didn"t make me feel better. I was caught and now it"s my turn.
Out of everyone that had been there that day, only Charles will keep on living. A little ironic, he was the one who spared my life 11 years ago making me the only survivor and now, 11 years later, he"ll be the only survivor.
I"m sorry, Christian. I"m sorry. I"m sorry. I"m sorry. I"m sorry. I"m sorry. It doesn"t matter how many times I apologise, my stupidity deserves no excuse. You raised me right, didn"t get a single thing wrong. I wasn"t who you wanted and still, you tried with me, you picked me and shaped me into a man that should"ve been better, much, much better. I wasn"t because I didn"t want to. I wasn"t it because I let myself be carried away by what could have been. I didn"t let the past stay in the past and I didn"t let my family rest like I should"ve had.
Someone told me that idealists don"t last long. He was right.
I hope you know that it wasn"t your fault. You did everything that you could"ve done, I was simply a lost cause. It was a pleasure to have been adopted by you, to have worked for you and to have become family with you. I would"ve liked to become just a fraction of the man you are but you can have everything. You were the father I never had and I wouldn"t have liked it any other way.
I love you,
Max V. Horner.
My signature was a little smudged because I ran out of paper but I was happy I was able to write everything I wanted to.
-Checo. - I called him. I found, at that moment, that I was crying. I tried to pretend I wasn"t. - I know that I"m a cunt but, please, can you send this letter?
Checo got closer.
-I shouldn"t. You don"t deserve sympathy. I don"t care.
-Please. - I begged. - Please. If you want, I"ll even kneel and kiss your feet, whatever, but please, send this letter.
He stayed in silence. I looked away towards what I had been writing. Probably, my words would never reach Mr Horner.
He passed me a receipt.
-Write the address on a corner and I"ll see what I can do.
I quickly wrote the address I knew by heart and gave him back the receipt and the letter. He handcuffed me again.
-Thank you.
He left the room.
One night, after dinner, Checo came into the room alongside Arthur.
Throughout the time I was locked in that room, I asked myself what had happened to the others, if they died like Daniel or if they survived like Checo. Apparently, Arthur survived. He entered the room accompanied by crutches.
I sat and turned towards them as best as possible.
-You"ve got visits. - Checo said.
-Good evening, Arthur. To what do I owe the pleasure?
Arthur hit me in the leg with one of the crutches.
-Stop playing around, Verstappen. You never fooled me. I knew it, I knew it. When I saw you with Kelly, I knew you were a rat.
-Then why didn"t you take care of me?
-I thought Charles would like to know that you were playing with him. I shouldn"t have said anything after all. He let you live.
-Don"t worry, Arthur. In the end, rats always get what they deserve. Look at Seb.
He sighed and closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
-I still can"t believe that happened...
-He played with us all.
-Son of a... - He sighed again and looked at me. - I only came here to tell you that Charles is waiting for you downstairs.
I furrowed my brows and my heart started racing, beating faster with the promise to see him.
-Your time has come.
He turned and limped towards the door. When his hand landed on the doorknob, I called him:
-I"m sorry, Arthur. Really. Things could have been different.
-But they weren"t. - And he left.
Checo came to me. He released me from the pipe and handcuffed me properly, both hands in front of me. He grabbed me by the chain and pulled me, guiding me to where I needed to go.
It was dark outside but the lamps lit along the path. The fireflies made it all feel like a fairytale. After so much time locked in that room, the cold wind hitting my face felt weirdly calm and the sound of the gravel crushing underneath mine and Checo"s shoes was music to my ears.
We found Charles. Leaning against his car, in the middle of throwing a cigarette butt on the floor and taking another out of the pack.
-Boss. - Checo called him.
He lifted his eyes and stared at us, at me. He grabbed the cigarette hanging from his lips and put it again in the pack.
-Thank you, Checo.
Checo left me in the middle of the driveway and turned back. There was just me and Charles, regrets and eagerness between us.
I didn"t say anything. I started thinking that, maybe, he was waiting for me to speak first. Maybe I should start a conversation between us. And what would you say? Sorry for ruining your life? In my defence, I didn"t do it on my own and I didn"t even know I was being helped!
When I opened my mouth to finally say something, he turned and opened the passenger seat and waited for me.
I wasn"t supposed to say anything. He didn"t want me to say anything. There was nothing to say. There was so much to say . Everything had already been said between all the misery and destruction in the Playhouse.
I made myself walk towards the car and sat down. He closed the door, hard, and went to the driver"s side. Turned on the car and started driving. Not a word was said between us.
I tried to keep myself awake as much time as possible. I tried to understand where we were going but the darkness didn"t help. The headlights were on but it didn"t help since Charles was driving too fast and when I looked out the window, I only saw blurs of different shades of dark.
His presence drove me mad. Not like before. Not like when I didn"t know if I wanted to choke him or kiss him. Our entire relationship had its foundations in the possibility of doing both. Why not kiss your lips while I lay my hands on that perfect neck of yours? Why not make you bleed from scratches on your back while you scream of pleasure? Why not both? Because then we would end up here . Now it was in the sense of not knowing if I should say something or not. What would I say? I didn"t know if I should say "I"m sorry" or "I still love you".
I thought it better not to say anything. I tried to look at him but I only got as far as his knuckles, white from how hard he was holding the steering wheel. I turned away again. I couldn"t. I wasn"t brave enough.
I fell asleep.
I woke up with my head hitting the window. I groaned in pain but Charles didn"t say a word. When I opened my eyes I realised that we were in a forest. He stopped the car and turned it off. The lights went out and now we were in silence and in the dark. I stayed as still as humanly possible. Only our breathing was heard. His hands were still glued to the steering wheel.
When my eyes got used to the darkness, I looked a little around us to try to understand where we were. I recognised it immediately. We were in the same forest, in the same exact place, where we made love next to the bonfire and ate canned peaches. My heart started beating even faster, I had to say something.
-Charles... - I began. I began but never finished.
-Shut up. - He told me. He opened the door and climbed out.
I thought of following him but that thought quickly evaporated when he yelled. The loudest I"ve ever heard him scream. I scream of suffering, pain, angst, and rage. It echoed through the forest. I didn"t dare open the door.
He started kicking the trees there, gabbing fistfuls of tall grass and pulling them until they came apart at the roots, all that screaming. At some point, he grabbed his pocket knife and chose a tree and started stabbing it.
I didn"t come near him. I couldn"t. I wouldn"t let myself. At that moment, Charles was like wildfire and I had already burned myself enough.
We were back on the road.
At one point, Charles" knife broke and flew off. He sat on the floor, leaning on the tree and started crying like a child. I pretended not to hear him. I pretended that he also couldn"t hear me cry like a child either.
I woke up with him closing the car door, hard again, and turning it on.
His eyes were red and puffy, mine were probably too. We were mirrors of each other but as different as possible.
Midway through our trip my stomach rumbled. I didn"t mention and neither did Charles. At the third rumbling and after looking like we weren"t going to stop soon, I spoke:
-I"m hungry.
Charles turned around, without braking, and for a few moments I thought this was how we were going to die, wrapped around a tree. Charles took from the backseat a can and placed it on my lap. A can of peaches.
My eyes filled with tears and I had to use all of my willpower to not let one fall. I opened the can and shoved one peach half in my mouth. The sweet taste in my mouth brought back so many memories, once pleasant now painful.
Charles" stomach rumbled too. I picked one of the halves and stretched out to him. He didn"t look at me. I stretched a little bit more until the fruit was touching his lips. After a few seconds of denial, he accepted it. He opened his mouth and ate the fruit.
I felt a warmth in my chest. Some sort of peach treaty had been signed between us. I spent half of the journey shoving peaches in my mouth and his. During the other half, he signalled for me to take the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and light one up. In the middle of his cigarette, he took it from his mouth and passed it to me. I accepted.
At the beginning of all of this, just the smell of cigarettes made my stomach turn, and the idea of smoking disgusted me. Now, the smell was connected with him, I could now bring a cigarette to my mouth without wanting to puke. Charles was like a drug to me. He needed his tobacco so I thought clearly and I needed him. An interesting paradox, that one: I needed him to think clearly but I could never think clearly near him.
We reached our destiny when the sun was just coming up.
In the middle of our trip, in between peaches and cigarettes, I figured out where we were going. The beach. He was taking me to that beach.
He parked the car and turned it off. Put his hand on the back pocket of his trousers and did something I never thought he would do now. He released me. He unlocked me and left the car.
I touched my finally free wrists and followed him.
-Aren"t you afraid of me running away? - I asked.
-You"re not running away. - He answered.
-How do you know it? I could run.
-You could, but you don"t want to.
He wasn"t wrong.
Silence fell on us while we walked through a city that was just now waking up.
Finally, we reached the beach.
The soft sand under my feet doesn"t deserve to be stained red by the blood of someone like me.
We walked side by side, like equals. Like friends, like lovers, like soulmates. Not like Boss and traitor. Not like executioner and prisoner.
He stopped. I stopped too. I looked at him and he looked at me.
-Why?
I took a deep breath. The much-dreaded question.
-It seemed right.
-I thought that what we had meant as much to you as it meant to me.
I took a step in his direction.
-It does.
-Then why did you do something like that?
I took another and stepped back, away from me.
-I was being manipulated.
-Don"t blame your actions on Seb! Everything you did, you did because you wanted to!
I swallowed dry.
-I... I...
-You don"t even know why you did the things you did! You ruined so many lives for nothing!
He walked past me.
I followed him.
-I just wanted revenge. - I answered. - I just wanted to set things straight. I just wanted to do what was right...
He turned to me, fire in his eyes:
-Right?! Right?! Antonio, Daniel, Magnussen, Hamilton, Rosberg, Don Wolff, Mattia, Nyck, Nyck for God"s sake! They all died for what? You told me the price of a life is a life. I reckon you didn"t do the maths right, don"t you think?! Took a little too much, don"t you think?
I lowered my head.
-I didn"t want to believe it when Seb told me you were a rat. I told him to go get you and Checo was the one who caught you. Later, Webber came to me and told me the craziest story I"ve ever heard. Not only was I being betrayed by who I thought was the love of my life, but my Consigliere was also betraying me. Traitors! All of you are traitors! I can"t trust anyone! I"m alone...
-I"m sorry, Charles, I really am. I"m an idiot. The biggest idiot that has ever walked on Earth. I was greedy, I just wanted to get revenge for what you guys did to my family but I figured the damage I could do and I wanted more. I"ve never regretted anything more than what I did. The ones who knew tried to warn me but I didn"t care. I always thought I was the smartest person in the room, apparently, I was the stupidest.
Charles threw himself at me and punched me. I fell on the sand and he on top of me. He started hitting my chest, not hurting me though. I wanted him to hurt me, I deserved it.
-Stupid, stupid, stupid... - He kept repeating.
And now here we are.
I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him against me. He tries to get away but then accepts his face. Hugging on the soft sand. Orange sky bathing us.
-Why, Max? - He asks quietly, almost as if he was afraid of me hearing him.
-Because I"m an idiot. - I answer. - I thought I would feel better about what happened in the past if I got revenge.
-Did you feel better?
-No. I don"t think I"ve ever felt worse.
Silence.
-Why didn"t you kill me? You made me kill Mattia and you ended up killing Seb. Why didn"t you kill me?
-I couldn"t. It wasn"t in my plans to fall in love with you. The moment it happened, killing you wasn"t part of the plan anymore. I kept telling myself, lying to myself, trying to convince myself that I was going to kill you, I needed to complete my mission but I knew, deep down, when the moment arrived, I would rather die than kill you.
-But you know that I"m going to do it, right?
-I know. It is the right thing to do.
We get up and continue walking. Our fingers touch but we don"t have the courage.
-What happened to the others? - I ask.
-Who?
-Kelly, for example. Mick. Webber. The Families.
He takes a deep breath.
-Kelly survived if that"s what you"re asking. She has enough money to move to wherever she wants. I heard she went to Brazil but no one really knows where she is. Schumacher survived as well. Webber, I don"t know. Some say he died, some say he ran away. It"s almost impossible to identify the bodies after the Playhouse burned down...
-The Playhouse burned down?
-Yes. With all the chaos, someone must have hit the wrong thing and everything started burning.
-And the Families? What happened to the Families?
-The Rosbergs were dissolved. Webber was supposed to have assumed the position but, since no one really knows what happened to him, Button became Boss. He quickly dissolved the Family and ran away. The Hamiltons are now Russells but I doubt they"ll last long. Most of them were murdered and they refuse to follow someone who isn"t Hamilton. The only ones who are fine are the Schumachers. They ran away, didn"t get murdered and still have their Boss. It"s a little ironic, they were considered the weakest ones and now are the strongest Family around.
I furrow my brows.
-And you?
-What about us?
-What happened to you guys?
He bites his lips, thoughtful, fighting against himself.
-I"m dissolving the Family. - He answers. - We"re too weak. I could try and get us to recover but I don"t think it"s worth it. We all lost too much. It"s not worth continuing to lose.
-I thought you were the Predestined One. You should try it, you"re predestined to take them to their former glory.
-Maybe I had always been predestined to end the Family. All this time, we focused too much on the glory and what we could become and where I could lead us but we forgot to see the other side of things. I had been predestined to destroy us.
I can"t answer him.
I just take my shoes off and roll up my trousers and walk to the sea. The waves wrap around my ankles. The water is cold but I don"t care. I look to the side and Charles is there too.
-Thank you for bringing me here. - I say.
-I"m going to kill you here, right? You shouldn"t be thanking me.
-I know but it"s such a pretty place. I"m going to die but I"m happy that it"s happening in a place like this.
A beat.
-I never thought this would happen. - He comments.
-Ever since I met you, I thought that, when I died, it would be by your side. Old, in a comfortable bed. I knew there was no other way that this was going to end but I liked to imagine us running away, travelling Europe maybe, and spending the rest of our lives together.
-Maybe that"ll still happen. In another life. I wouldn"t be who I am now and you wouldn"t be who you are now and we would spend the rest of our lives together.
-Let"s hope so.
-Let"s hope so.
I always knew that this moment would come but now that I"m here, it seems so odd. I"ve had months to prepare for this and I"m still not ready.
-You know I love you, right? - I confess.
We are both still barefoot. The orange sky, beautiful. But I would"ve liked it to be pink. The memories were sweeter when the sky was pink and the sun was setting down.
-I know. - He answers.
I knew that the sand was sticking to my trousers, where my knees touched the floor. I run my hand on the sand, fill them up with sand and watch it fall from my fingers like an hourglass. My time is running out.
-I love you too. - He said.
His voice sounds weird, he"s crying. It"s alright, so am I.
-Can you kiss me one last time? - I ask.
Behind me, I hear the sound of sand under his feet. He puts a hand on my shoulder and leans forward, I lean my head back and our lips touch. A salty kiss filled my love and sadness.
We separate and he goes back behind me, to where I can"t see him.
-You"re doing the right thing, Charles.
-I know but it doesn"t make it hurt any less.
I hear him sob.
-Are you ready? - He asks,
-I am. - I answer.
I start sobbing too. I think of wiping my tears but there"s no point.
-One day, we"ll meet again, right?
People say that when we"re about to die, we see life flash before our eyes. It"s my turn. I saw everything that took me here. Every face that shaped me and every hand that destroyed me. I saw every single one of my mistakes and all the things I would repeat without thinking twice. I saw Charles. Charles, Charles, Charles. Every step we took led us to this beach for the second time. All that I lost and all that could"ve been.
After everything I saw, I had my answer on the tip of my tongue:
-I look for you until the world ends.
We"ll find each other, I"m sure of it. There is no way we won"t. We"ll look for each other until our legs stop working and our bones turn to dust. Until our eyes close for the last time and we take our last breath.
Until then, we"ll always have the beautiful sunset of that day. One day, we"ll meet when the sun goes down.