Don't move. Don't make a sound. Don't even breathe the wrong way.
Angelo wasn't sure why his mother told him that. He thought, or maybe foolishly hoped, that it was a game – but being thirteen, he could differentiate panic and fun on her face. She had this look like a desperate, scared wild animal; like a mama bear protecting her cub from the darkest horrors of the night. He didn't like that look in her eye… the look that said she would come back cooing to him sweetly while covered in blood. Her own blood. He hated when he came home to find her like that, as if she had a fight with a raccoon and lost.
So as Angelo sat alone in his closet, listening to his mother on the other side scream and shout her heart out, he covered his mouth with a trembling hand and curled his knees to his chest. There were two people inside his house; that much he knew. Men, he figured, from their big, terrifying booming voices.
Right now, nothing bad had happened except for the shouting from his mother, and she shouted all the time. Unless it was at him… Angelo's mother never really shouted at him. Only at the people who deserve it, She would say whenever he asked why she raised her voice at other people but not him. Did that mean these people deserved it?
He decided to star listening in, not really knowing what else to do. Angelo had been too stuck in panic mode to really pay attention, but now starting to calm down and worry for his mother, he figured it was best to figure out what was going on.
"He's not here," His mother was saying, strong and firm. "I already told you!"
"Yeah yeah," A man said. "You keep sayin' that. But where is he, if not here?"
"I took him away," She insisted, voice wavering like he was going to cry. "Far away. You'll never find him again!"
"Where?" The same man demanded. "Another state? You know we'll find him easily if that's the case."
"Well it's a good thing that's not the case, then!" His mother shouted.
"Ohh, so another country!" He mused, humming thoughtfully. "Hmm… how curious. When did you manage that, and where? Canada? Mexico? Saudi Arabia? Did you ship him in a little box?"
"I'll never tell you." She spat.
There was a slapping sound – as if an open hand had roughly spanked a thick slab of meat, like the men did in the butcher shop downtown. They were always being silly, but this? It didn't sound silly, as he heard his mother hit the ground outside of the closet door.
It took everything in Angelo's little body not to move and not to breathe the wrong way. He shut his eyes tight, unable to watch as the shadow in front of the door seemed to struggle and kick. Assumably the man had swept down to grab his mother's shirt, pulling her up face to face.
"You will tell, little lady." The man spat. "Because if he's gone, the Don's gonna have his fun with you again, and if you don't shoot out another fire-wielding little turd like before… then you're gonna have a problem, aren't you?"
His mother laughed dryly. "Good luck with that. I had my damn ovaries removed."
The man growled at her. "Where is the fucking kid?!" He shouted.
Kid.
Fire-wielding.
That guy had to be referring to Angelo. He felt his face grow red – with anger, shame, or shock, he didn't really know. Were they looking for him? Had he been the reason his mother was getting hurt all this time? Was he the reason she was getting into so much trouble? His body built up to spring, grab that door handle and throw the closet open, reveal himself and make them stop hitting his mom. He was ready, but-
Don't move. Don't make a sound. Don't even breathe the wrong way.
He hated it. Angelo hated it all so much, and at the same time… he didn't want to make things worse. His mother had dealt with these guys before; she knew what to do, and how to handle them. Angelo, didn't. He had no idea who these people were, what they wanted from him, or what they were talking about. It was best to let his mother handle it, right? To not make things worse by getting involved.
"Six feet down," His mother finally replied. "Where all the other Kuron vermin belong. Just like the last one. Just like Lorenzo's stinking sister."
The man went completely silent, before he started to laugh. "You tryin' to make me believe you killed your own son? How ridiculous, woman. I know you aren't that heartless."
"He's better off dead than living a life of torture and shame from you bastards," She spat.
The man scoffed, then sighed. "So, little lady. You killed your son. Your ovaries are gone. And you're completely fuckin' useless. Aren't you glad you shared all that?"
There was a click, and Angelo heard his mother hiss in Spanish. "Stay quiet until they leave. I love you."
"Whatever you say, ragazza." The man snarled.
The bang was so loud that it made him flinch. The door splintered for some reason unknown to Angelo, making a little dent. Angelo sucked in a gasp so hard that he was afraid he was heard for a moment, but he silenced himself quickly enough. He had jumped in fright, but with a quick and quiet scrambled, he was back to sitting still and silent.
What his mother had said… was it meant for him? Did these goons really not know Spanish? He didn't know what the hells ragazza meant, so maybe they didn't. Why would she have to give him a secret message that was in-?
Thud.
A form collapsed outside the door. Angelo wasn't sure what to think at first; did his mother start fighting back down? Had she taken down the guy that was threatening her? Yet, there was only silence. Angelo didn't like that… maybe it meant that she needed help. He was about to get up, grab that handle and shove it open like he had planned before, but…
Red.
Red liquid started to seep under the door. It only showed its true colour briefly in the crack of the yellow light from outside the closet, but then it turned an inky black from the shadows. The people were back to talking to each other, now walking away, but Angelo's ears were ringing. He couldn't breathe, only thinking of back when his mother took him around to see roadkill. Something about having to be ready for it one day… but he wasn't ready. Death. His mother had been shot, and she was dead.
A sob escape his throat before he could stop it…
…and the footsteps outside of the closet froze.