“Michael! Where is Dominica? She is supposed to go over the plans with me, and I can't find her! Curse this daughter of mine, always hiding from me! Dominica! Veinre qui (come here)!”

“Don Borselllino, she is outside with that young boy, of whom they call Salvatore, I warned her not to play comedy with him anymore, but as you already know Don, she refuses to listen.”

“Salvatore? A new friend, all these jokes she plays with these boys will catch up to her soon enough. Send Vito for her, she is to be in front of me at once.-”

“But Don, she won't lis-”

“Michael, I said now! Tell her I sent for her!”

Michael ordered Vito, the youngest in the Borsellino family organization, to send for my niece, Dominica. These boys she talks with are no good for her, not that her mafia upbringing is much of an improvement. My brother, Vincenzo, or to his people, Don Borselllino, is a mess. Raising his child with violence and crime was not smart. Of course, what could he do? Give up his only child when his wife was murdered? He had no choice but to take the role as the main parent. I do blame him though, I always had when I was breathing, for corrupting the Borsellino name. Our father was the Don before, and kept such a clean slate, when he passed the task onto Vincenzo as Don, the oils of deception and evil swept over Messina.

“Mima! Mima!...Dominica Borsellino!Your father wishes to speak to you! To his studies at once! Andare, andare (go, go)!”

“Salvatore, I have to go, come see me tomorrow? If my padre will let me leave my room, let's hope he does.”

Dominica rolled her eyes at Vito as she gradually dragged her feet inside, she hated speaking to her father, she figured he saw Salvatore. She was expecting another lecture on boys and how her mother was so perfect, how she should idolize her deceased mamma. Mima dreaded the walk to her father's studies, the spiraling stairs seemed endless. One by one, she ambled up the marble staircase, all she could think about was Salvatore, but she had to keep her mind on track. From here to her father's room, she had to devise a reasonable excuse as to why there is a new boy. You would assume, after so many lectures and being yelled at weekly, that she would catch on, that my brother doesn't want her further corrupted by these fools. But no, being sixteen and beautiful, avoiding attention seems impossible. Her short hazel braid brushed her back, the little hairs getting caught in her dusk brown eyes that sat on her olive skin. The diamond earrings reflected the light from the floor lamps and the gust from the open stained glass windows rustled her white shirt and smacked her black pants. Finally, she reached the lanky oak door, painted in egg white, trimmed with a fluorescent gold. Mima began to shake, she was afraid that her father was going to truly snap this time. She raised her fist, and with three reserved knocks, she waited for the gates of Hell to open up to welcome her in.

“Come in Dominica..”

“Padre, ciao, Vito said you wish to speak with me?”

“This is true, come, sit down, let's talk Mima, I have drawn the last line my love, and you have crossed it.”

Mima casually sat in the big leather chair, opposite of her father, her hands were quivering, so she hid them under the table. Her heart was pounding, she wondered if he could hear it too. She swallowed a gulp of guilt, she knows what she has done, and it didn't involve Salvatore, he was just a friend. Vincenzo stood up and paced the room, he heaved the air and opened his mouth.

“This line, Mima, the one you have crossed, is a line of lies and comedy. You have lied to me! This hurts me so much, to know that my own flesh has betrayed me. Why, all of this pressure and stress of having to run a whole mafia and control all the crime in Messina and Palermo. I should be meeting with the officials and arranging new orders, but no! Instead I am here hollering over my troubled child who cannot keep her pants on or her mouth shut! You're a whore Dominica, you allow boys to use you and treat you like trash! I may have raised you in an uncivilized manor, but that is not how your mother taught you to be! You were brought up in a sophisticated environment with love, not this street walking persona that you have adopted. Why Dominica, why?”

“Padre, listen to me, I can explain. You see, these lies you speak of, were merely small white lies, bugie bianche. You asked me a week ago, if I had drawn out my plans for the Cathedral heist, padre, I told you I had them finished, truth is, I have not even started. But hear me out padre, I have a brilliant plan. All that comedy I play with those boys, you're right, mamma brought me up better, it's just, since you have become overwhelmed with work, I went out looking for a man's attention. Understand, please padre, per favore?”

“Mia figlia, the place for a woman's love is not in kissing all the boys in Messina, you need to tell me these things. But that's beside me right now, this brilliant plan of yours, tell me about it.”

“Well, you know how we are trying to take the funds from the Cathedral, to pay for the ship of artillery to Florence? Well, I was having the hardest time trying to decipher a solid plan: a way to get in the Cathedral finances without getting caught. He may be old, but Father Fanucci holds a tight fort there, it would be nearly impossible to get in without being caught. So, this is my solution. Maria Corleone.”

“Maria, your cousin? Your Zia Appollonia's daughter? How in the hell do you suppose we persuade an innocent child to aid in a mafia crime? Explain this to me, per favore?”

Dominica went on to clarify on how she plans to corrupt my beloved Maria. Spinning line after line of destruction, I wanted to strike her with something, but I couldn't play God. Maria is her cousin, does she not consider the well being of her family? This is why I kept Maria away from them as much as possible, I could never avoid family functions. When Giuseppe took over when I was gone, Maria and Dominica were attached, but when he realized what my brother was up to, contact was cut off. Like so many of Vincenzo's associates, Dominica continued on with her father. Her plan is so genius, yet so wicked. I can only have faith that Maria will step away from the temptations of her villainous relatives.

Maria sat on the shore, tossing pebbles into the polluted crystal waters. Her hair whipped the atmosphere while she sang a song from her childhood. Her toes dug deep into the silky sands. As most youth do, she sat contemplating her life, and how she has lived.

“Vacin' o mare, facimmo 'ammore, a core a core, pe' nce spassa, so marenaro e tiro 'a rezza ma, p'allerezza, stongo a muri...”

I sang that to her as a baby, she has always loved it. She has acquired quite the talent for singing, if only she saw that in her like I do. Her pencils were sketching thin, she has been drawing so much lately with her spare time, the supplies are running low. I was always in awe at her work, her knack for realistic artistry is impeccable. Portraits of the wise and passionate Sister Amedea are of such beauty and grace, like the fine works of Da Vinci, whom which Maria studies constantly. I listen to her, her voice so gritty, but such a sweet grit. Her words, so sophisticated, yet full of wonder and adventure blended with fear and lonesomeness.

“These lights around me, so bright and luminous, but it's still so dark here, well for me that is. I know the sky is blue, patched with cotton clouds, but still, the blue waves up above are merely gray to me. I have become poisoned with bitterness and dismay, drowning in my own salty tears, being shot down by my own thoughts, to only leave me dead. I just wish, one day, to be happy again, to find someone to make me joyous in my life, to feel a purpose that needs to be fulfilled, that's all I plead for, per favore, per favore.”

“You know cugino (cousin), usually people speak to another person, and not the ocean..”

She had arrived, the spiritual outrage could have brought me out of my grave. Maria looked excited, yet so puzzled. She dropped her papers and pencils and embraced Dominica so carelessly. Dominica returned the affection, smiling so mischievously , the Borsellino villain. It had been almost six years since they saw each other, obviously appearances have changed. My child is still prettier though, in my opinion. Maria invited Dominica down on the shore. It was then that Mima held a stern face, worrying Maria. Dominica turned, facing Maria, inhaling all the briny sea air. She held Maria's penciled hands, and broke silence.

“Ti amo (I love you) , Maria. You know this, even after so many years of separation, I still do. What I am about to tell you, to ask of you, could destroy our relationship, but, this is what I have to do.”

“What? I mean, I love you too Mima, but, destroy our relationship? Why? The anguish on your face hurts me, Mima, tell me, ask me, per favore.”

Dominica stared into the green eyes of her kin, the innocence masked on her flesh, radiating from her hair, so innocent. It hurt her, I saw it, she didn't want to have to do this, to possibly lose her cugino. But, this had to happen, Mima had to make Maria an offer she couldn't refuse.

“Well, Maria, I don't know if you're aware or not about who I am and what I do. I'm much more than a troubled kid, which you do know about. And I appreciate that you overlook my bad habits in life, your prayers have really helped at times, despite my absence in your life. I figured I couldn't keep my secrets from you forever, but I am-”

“Part of the Borsellino family mafia, ran by Zio Vincenzo. Yes, I know. That's why we became distant, my father found out after my mamma died, and he thought you would become a negative influence on me.”

“Oh, well, alright. He was smart for doing that, although visits here and there wouldn't have hurt much. I'm glad you know about the family, but do you know how we work and what we do exactly?”

“Well, I have a pretty good idea, but I don't know if it's correct. I assume your father operates everything and everyone in this organized crime. That he ships weapons and narcotics, illegal and legal. I have heard that he reigns over most of Messina and Palermo, with connections in Florence and Venice. And you, well, you are his daughter, I know you have a way with knives and fighting for that matter, that you are a 'progettista', the family planner. You make blueprints of crimes that need to be done and you more often then not assist in them. Am I right?”

“Essentially, yes. We are in cahoots with Florence and Venice, and we control most of Messina and Palermo in narcotics more than weapons. I am the 'progettista,' it's a simpler job, not on the streets, by the Don's request. It's good you're aware of what we do, and what I do. Here is the tough part, the asking of your assistance Maria, and before I even pop the question, I beg you, per favore, per favore, to really listen to what I am about to say. Per favore.”

Dominica held Maria's hands with the iron grip, piercing Maria with the fiery glare of the devil. Maria, just sitting there, anxious to hear the question. They sat together, Mima refused to stall any longer, the time had come.

“I need your help Maria. My father has assigned me to a small job, minimo ( very small). I tried to go to everyone else in the family, but no one is as capable as you. I know you weren't raised in this life, nor do you even really know what it is like, but, I really need you Maria. You would be in no trouble at all, nessuno (none). The only people who need to know are me, my father, and you of course.

This task, well, involves you and I breaking into the Messina Art Hall, and taking the money. I promise you complete safety in and out. And I need you because you have a way with people, and you know the owner, they adore you, and I need that eye in to help seek out the finance room. Per favore, Maria, for me?”

Bugie, bugie (lies)! Right into her eyes, lying is a profession for this girl! I say, Heaven has seen no wrath like the one I am holding in . Dominica lied to Maria, the Messina Art Hall, what a joke! She was built on lies, raised on lies, and now, she's dishing them out like candy! My daughter, promising to something she knew nothing about. Maria, filtering all of these promises, the protection, not getting in trouble, this was the thrill she had just wished for. My fears have been brought to life, I can see the innocence melting off, dripping off her now oiled hair. She raised her hand toward Mima, to shake it. Her eyes blackened, now a swampy green, and all I can see is the putrid clay of my child, waiting to be formed by the molten hands of Dominica. This is what Maria was waiting for, her wish to come true, she smiled so ill-lighted at Dominica. Mima, in sync with the same somber grin. Both girls spoke with their eyes, the offer Maria couldn't refuse. They rose from the sand, still holding their stare and handshake, slowly pulling back, Dominica absorbed yet another ounce of ocean breeze, leaning in to take my corrupted daughter in for another hug. Ever so gently, Mima tossed back Maria's hair, revealing the pearl earrings. With the soft breeze emanating from her lips, she gave Maria the proper hello.

“Welcome to the Borsellinos, Maria Corleone.”

'This is it.' Maria thought, 'Finally, my shot in the real world, to have a purpose, to be truly needed by someone, and it's my own flesh and blood.' She sauntered back home after her deal with Mima. She felt different, mentally and emotionally. All of her sadness seemed to slither off with her child-like purity. Anger seemed to jump ship, and corruption was on board. She had become her father's worse nightmare, and that thought shot a dose of adrenaline through her crystal veins. Some sort of visual high gave way inside of her, envisioning all the wonderful things she will do with Mima. Although she only promised one job, it was something to look forward to. All her life, she heard of her zio, Don Borsellino, the illicit mafioso, and how many men he has killed, how many women he has mistreated. The storage houses full of narcotics, just anticipating the gregarious amounts of money to be brought in.

After the longest walk in her lifetime, Maria opened the miniscule dirt stained door. Giuseppe was sitting in the family room, sifting through boxes of holy relics from the Cathedral. Maria gave off a small chuckle as she stared at her padre, laughing out of pity for him. He will never know what she just swore into. She could only imagine the lecture she would receive if he were to find out,

'Oh my child! My spawn! Betraying the Lord, giving way to Lucifer! Shame on you!' Followed by the down poor of holy water, not even the holiest of waters could cleanse Maria now. She giggled once more, before leaning to kiss him on the cheek.

“Buonasera (good evening) padre. How was your day?”

“Sera figlia, it was slow, father kept me busy filing through these old momentums from the Pope. I'm not sure why though, he was in the most peculiar mood today, but what Father Fanucci asks, you know, must be done. How was yours?”

“Oh, of course! And mine was slow, I left this morning to complete my chores. Father did not have much for me today, so I had the day to myself. I lingered around the piazza (town square) for several hours, people watching, then I went to draw down at the coastline. It was quiet but peaceful.”

“Buono! There is food in the kitchen for you, I made scaccia tonight, help yourself.”

“It sounds good padre, but I ate at the piazza, so I am turning in for the night, buonanotte (good night) padre.”

Maria pecked her father on the cheek, still smiling at his ignorance. She proceeded down the hall, ecstatic for tomorrow, her first day on the job. She was to meet Dominica at the shore again, and they're to be picked up by Vito and taken to the Borsellino Estate where the planning begins. Just as Maria approached her door way, she heard the feint echo of her father yelling to her from the sofa.

“Oh, Maria! I almost forgot to tell you, Father Fanucci has chosen me to join him on a missionary trip around Italy. The Cathedral will be run by Father Amendola for two weeks. I leave tomorrow morning! If I do not see you then , I love you and be safe in the glory of the Lord Maria!”

Maria returned her love back down the hall to Giuseppe. She entered her room, threw her body onto the bed. Preparing for a night's rest, she shut off her lights and nuzzled in her blankets. She would miss her father, but not as much as she would like to. All she could think about was the Borsellino's, how they look, act, and how she will become a key to a crime. And my husband's absence to make it all better.

'This is simply perfection,' Maria mumbled to herself, closing her eyes with a toothy grin and a subtle chuckle, 'In the glory of the lord,' she snickered, 'How about the glory of Don Borsellino?'

The Palermo breeze sank in, sifting through his hair and caressing his face and neck. He swung his head to the Sinatra playing from the open doors behind him. Eying his new black leather shoes, grinning at his reflection in the glass table, he kicked up his feet, perching them on the broken chair in front of him. He whipped out his last cigar to warm him up in these chilly temperatures. Wafting the smoke into his ashy lungs, he released the leftovers into the oxygen. Whistling at the beautiful women on the other side of the road,he enchanted them with his foolish smirk to only be interrupted so rudely by his boss, always messing with his flow. He is a handsome boy though, someone my daughter could enjoy.

“Santino! Get 'ya self back in here! I pay you to work, not flirt with women, they could do betta' anyways! Get in here, ora , ora(now)!”

“Capo, can't you see I am busy here? She wants me sir! Per favore, just a few m-”

“Santino, I am not repeating myself boy, in here!”

How Santino yearns to punch that man's lights out. Just one good swing ought to do it. Three years of his verbal abuse, 'I'm a grown man, I'm seventeen, but I'm grown, I can make it on my own. You can't hit him though, Santino, contain your anger, do not hit the man, just don't.' Santino kept telling himself over and over again while stomping into the bakery, he was tired of flipping dough and having to sell with a fake smile. Three years is way too long for this one.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection again in the window. Such a poise look, the olive skin complimented with his thick dark brown hair settled on top his head, his hazel eyes, and his ensemble, he had it all. The slick black shoes, the loose dress pants and the usual button down, today, it was a seductive red, such a devilish look. 'I could be breaking hearts, but no, I am here, kneading dough for an old man, I'm getting outta here. I am done, finito,' he murmured to himself. This was it, Santino was done. I would be too, and I get to dance around in the sky, poor child.

Santino strutted to the counter, he ripped off his apron and dusted the flour off his shirt. He slammed the apron down on the register, discharging a cloud of flour into the air. His boss lashed around, getting ready to yell at Santino, he raised his hairy fist at him. Santino raised his hand, to stop the boss, and with cocky attitude, Santino unleashed his fury.

“Save it capo! You are done yelling at me, done tormenting me, finito! I am not a child! Not your little slave, you don't even pay me enough! I'm quitting! And you and your loud mouth can go to Hell! Ciao!”

He left the boss speechless, he just lost his baker boy, and his dignity, shot down by Santino. But, wow, did it feel good. A warmth of satisfaction melted Santino inside, heating him up from the harsh winter in Palermo. His cockiness has come back, the top of his game. He tossed his head back and chortled to the sky, 'Let's go break some hearts Tino, it's about time we got back in the game.'

Maria sat impatiently on the pier, waiting for Dominica. An hour had passed and she finally showed up. Dominica stood in awe at Maria, dressed in such devious attire. The tight black pants that shaped her legs, glorified by the enticing violet mid-sleeve blouse that carved out her curves. And to complete the look, the pointed toe flats, and the pearl earrings? No, they were left at home with my rosary, diamonds seemed to suffice. Her hair sat in a long braid that dangled down her back, loose but fitting. Dominica let out a smolder at her new cousin, the corrupted Corleone. Mima felt proud inside, she held a reptuation for being able to corrupt just about anybody, but now that she turned her holy rolling cousin into a Sicilian vixen, Mima felt invincible.

“Well, seductive much Maria? I like it, it suits you, those drab dresses were very drivel anyways. Shall we?”

She motioned to the black Cadillac waiting for them. They hurried as Vito opened the door for them, and in no time, they had arrived at the Borsellino Estate. It was all Maria had dreamed, and so much more. My daughter, the vixen, I hate it.

My brother waltzed out and welcomed my daughter with kisses and open arms. It was cute, but like a discomforting cute. Of course he would treat her right, she is his niece, the daughter of his deceased sister. But that wasn't the reason for the sweet talk, he knew she was the rat in this operation, the eyes in and out. She needed to be treated like royalty, a principessa.

“Maria Corleone! My beloved nipote! Come, come inside, it's freezing out here!”

Don Borsellino motioned them into the house. It's a fortress: vast stained glass windows, steep ceilings, a winding marble staircase that leads up to the infinite amount of rooms, sculptures from Rome. 'They have more money than I thought,' she whispered to herself. My daughter, a principessa, not in the most lovely way, but she finally gets to see the high life I lived for so long. Vincenzo brought them up into his office, sat them down, and began with business, no time to waste. In his case, time was literally money, the man lives for money.

“Maria, you have agreed to all of this, just a one time deal. After this, you're gone, finito. Capire (understand)? You are my nipote, and I love you, but this is no place for you to stay, your padre would hate me even more.”

“He knows nothing of this zio. He left this morning on a missionary trip with Father Fanucci for two weeks, I have all the time in the world.”

“Perfetto! Two weeks isn't necessary for this, you'll be done in two days, but tonight, you are traveling to Palermo, to retrieve some items needed for this job. You and Mima leave in an hour, and you'll be back here late afternoon, then, we will spend the evening planning out every detail for this heist.”

While he spat out his melody to my Maria, he slyly glanced at Mima. They knew what they were up to, lying to my daughter filling her head with deception. Apparently money is thicker than blood these days. Sickens me to my grave and back up to Heaven. Vincenzo completed his web of lies to Maria and shooed them off to the car to be taken to Palermo. It would only take an hour to grab the supplies for the “Art Hall,” heist. They would be back by four or so, plenty of time to strategize their atrocity.

Santino toddled about the Palermo piazza, hunting for a new girl. He sat back in a wicker chair near the pizzeria, rolling his head back and forth continuously, examining each female that crossed his path. One by one they drizzled off, this group must be not very impressed. He needs a girl like my Maria, beautiful and talented, classy and graceful. That's what he needs.

There she was, heaven sent, literally, in this case. She was untying her braid, flipping her hair around in the Palermo airflow. Cupid shot him, right in the heart, or what was left of it. He sighed to himself, 'She's perfect, those eyes, that hair, that figure, she is perfection. Her confident walk, not as rebellious looking as her companion next to her, but still perfect.' He sat there, leaning back in his chair, gawking at my Maria. He was right, she was all he said, and so much more. Dominica eyeballed Santino, and gave him a very discombobulated look.

“Santino, Santino Bellucci? Is that you?”

“Dominica? Borsellino? Is it really you?”

They sprinted to each other and embraced one another in a friendly hug. Maria stood puzzled at the stranger who seems to know her cousin.

“Um, I hate to break the reunion, but who are you?”

“Oh, my apologies signora, I am Santino Bellucci, an old friend of Mima's. We met in an awful way. Her father was sent out to kill my drug infested parents. Anyways, and you are?”

He grabbed Maria's hand and held it to his lips, softly kissing her hand with an alluring simper.

“Oh, I'm Maria Corleone, Dominica's cousin, my condolences to your parents, nice to meet you though. A friend of Mima's is a friend of mine.”

They held each others gaze for what seemed like an eternity to Dominica. Santino lightly let go of Maria's hand. It's obvious to me, as a mother, I know these things, my daughter has just been targeted by the hunter. Targeted and trapped. In a matter of minutes, there was no doubt about it, Santino Bellucci was the lady-killer.

She is evil, Dominica is so vile. She saw the love ridden teenagers in front of her, her moment had arrived, another brilliant idea.

'Say, Santino, care to join us? You've always wanted to walk in the shoes of a mafioso, right? C'mon.”

“Really, 'ya mean it Mima? We bringing pretty here along with us?”

“Of course, she's the gold in this operation!”

The “items,” were fetched, a metal case with knives and two revolvers. Just in case a few lives needed to be taken, they were prepared. I'm disappointed in Maria, taking on such a heavy load. Santino loved the feel of the silver against his finger tips, and the metallic bullets. He soaked all of this in, the “thug life.” But none of those material things can make him feel like Maria does. His desperation to hold her became too immense to keep in, his lips danced with the thought of how she felt. It had only been hours ago that he met her, but it seems so clear to him now. He didn't want her, Santino needed her, and he was determined to get her, and keep her for the rest of his life.

“Santino, stop drooling over Maria and get in the car, we have to get back to my casa. Dai (come on)!”

Santino slid into the leather seats, nestled up between the girls. He decided to pull a move. He noticed Maria's lingering hand next to his, so he grabbed it. She jostled a little, but she didn't refuse his touch. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. This was perfect, my girl in love. Beautiful.

The car ride was quiet. Dominica, my despicable niece, drew a little envious of the lovers next to her. She wanted Santino, he was perfect for her, but he wanted Maria, and that made her heart drop to her stomach. The trio reported to the Don as soon as they got home. Vincenzo was shocked to see a new face, but he welcomed Santino, in remorse for the loss of his parents, which was all his fault. The four of them sat down in the Don's office, Maria and Santino next to each other on a love seat, and Mima and her father opposite in chairs.

“Dominica has informed me that she has already gone over the plans with you both? So, no need for a meeting. You know what this means bambinos (children)?”

He unveiled a child-like smirk followed by a demonic laughter.

“No Zio, tell us, per favore?”

The curious Santino and Maria sat in amusement at the laughter between the Don and Mima. Mima sat back in her seat and crossed her legs so elegantly.

“This means, my lovers, that the job gets done tonight.”

“Tonight? This evening? Are you sure we are even ready? I mean, I don't think I am prepared Mima, per favore Zio, not tonight.”

“I'm afraid she's right, it has to be tonight. We were cutting time short putting it off until tomorrow, but with the strong Santino here, the job can surely be done in time tonight. Get going, the Cathedral closes in an hour, enough time to get ready and go. I will be expecting the lot of you in one piece here no later then eleven o' clock.”

The three shook their head in agreement. Maria was afraid, though she completely ignored the fact that her zio had just slipped up. If that were me, I would be paying better attention to how I am going to rob something. But no, my daughter was too in love to be attentive.

“Really, stop making googly eyes and get out of the vehicle you two!”

Maria and Santino snickered at Dominica's jealous remarks. They faintly slid out of the car and shut the door. Vito sped off to roam the streets until pick up time. Maria turned around, to realizing that this wasn't the art hall. She looked up and down, sizing up the building and realizing what her cousin had done to her.

“Dominica Borsellino! How dare you, you delusive devil! This is the Cathedral! You want me to steal from my own Holy grounds? Why, why have you done this to me?”

Maria froze, the icy winds bit at her face, and her heart stopped. Santino stood diagonal to her, stopping in his tracks. His breathing grew heavy with Maria's, and she opened her mouth to howl, but no words came out. Santino tried to shriek, but his lungs seemed to have failed him. They were both rendered speechless, their feet glued to the ground.

“You are not backing down Maria, and you, Santino, are not making a sound, neither of you are. Maria, you will walk up there, open that door, and lead us in as we planned before. This will go smoothly and I will walk away with money for my father. Do. Not. Fail. Me. Capire?”

Maria swallowed her tears and opened her eyes. She was staring into the never-ending black hold of Mima's revolver. The metal tipped her forehead, leaving a small scratch that began to bleed, seeping down the side of her head. She began to shake, but she had to follow Dominica's orders, it was that or her life. 'To be safe in the glory of Don Borsellino,' she murmured to herself, 'All in the glory of the mafia.'

Each marble step became ten, every breath of air became invisible gold. Maria slothfully glided up the stairs. She took a glance back at Mima, holding the revolver to Santino's head, who was cheerfully smiling back at Maria, trying to let her know that he was going to be okay. She believed him, Maria continued on. She slid her quivering hand into her left pocket, and dragged out my pearl rosary. My poor daughter, now seeing the darkness of this whole conspiracy. Evil, just so evil. I watched her clutch the rosary, and opening her shaken lips, glossed with some of her blood, she sang.

““Ave Maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum..Mamma, hear me now, I know you are watching over me, you can see what I have gotten myself into. Mamma, I am sorry, I have done you and padre wrong, the Lord frowns upon me, and my place rests now in Hell. Mamma! Forgive me! Pedronami (forgive me)!”

She approached the doors, and picked the lock, just as Dominica taught her yesterday. This was all too fast for my daughter. Just yesterday she was sitting at the beach. Now, she is picking the lock of her Holy grounds and stealing, while the boy she likes so much has a gun to his head. Maria fell to the floor and wept, all of her tears flowing out of her like the canals of Venice. Convulsing, she stood up and entered the Cathedral, flipping on the center lights that lead to the finance room. She knew all the codes, the secrets to the church, the bundles of collected money given by the poor and loved of Messina. She halted for a spell, until Dominica hollered at her.

“Maria, move along, cry later! If you're not out in fifteen minutes, Santino will go meet his parents in Heaven! Andare!”

Maria respected her satanic authority. She has to move, she has to go now, her feet felt iced with cement shoes, she just wanted to sleep with the fishes. She picked up the pace, and raced down to the room, chanting the Ave Maria over and over again. She unlocked the room, and let herself in.

Ten minutes, she has ten minutes. I want her to stop and take one for God, to let herself go before she hurts all of Messina. The clock is ticking, every second counting. Maria grabbed the linen bag and stuffed the money into it, soaking the dollari (dollars) with her sorrow. Five minutes, she had to finish up and race down to the car. Eleven was drawing near. I watched her ever so quickly dash down the hall, slipping on the waxed marble tiling. This was it, in and out, no trouble, home free.

Maria arrived at the light box, opening it up to switch off the correct switches, it was then she heard the most heart wrenching sound known to her. The instant ,“Pop,pop,” of a revolver going off, echoing into the walls of Messina.

“No, no!” Maria screeched. She found her voice again. She killed the lights and locked all the doors with lightning speed. She hustled down the stairs, jumping two, maybe three at a time. My daughter became an athlete in seconds. Amazing, such precision with every stride, only to be congratulated for her triumphant last leap by horror at the bottom.

There, in a pool of sticky blood, engulfing the head and swallowing the hair like the islands of Italy was Dominica The deep eyes, a faded brown, aiming lifeless at the stars, and the clothing sponging up all of the red substance. The scene terrified Maria, she fell to her knees and hollered in such gloom and anguish.

“Dominica! Mima! Answer me! Wake up, per favore, il mio amore! Per favore! Mima, Mima!Come back to me, Torna da me!”

Maria shook Dominica's dead-weight body, flicking blood onto herself. Maria's tears blended with Dominica's blood. Embracing her dead cousin for the last time, Maria could no longer look into her skeletal eyes. She dropped the body and stood up, dusting herself off. She glanced up at the murderer.

“I had to do it principessa, she was going to kill you anyways, she knew you would not be able to keep all of this a secret. I refused to let her take you away from me like that, so I took my chances and got rid of her. I know we haven't known each other long, but, Maria, I love you, and she might have taken my parents, but she won't take you from me too.”

“Santino, how could you, she's my cousin, il mia famiglia (my family). Did she say she was going to kill me? How could you have been so foolish? I know what she was doing was wrong, but you didn't have to fall to her level Santino.”

“I know, I know, she even told me she was going to kill you. Maria, to her, money is thicker than blood. She did this for a living, she helped to kill my parents, she showed no mercy when it came to money and her beloved mafia. She's gone now.”

Santino let the gun drop to his side, and fester in the pool of blood below him. He stepped towards Maria and took her into his arms, laying her head on his chest. My child began to weep again, cursing Santino, but still grasping onto him for dear life. The two stood together, splattered in Dominica's blood. Their silent moment was awoken by the clock tower, it rang eleven o’clock. The two separated, scanning the area for Vito. Maria bent over and grabbed the gun, slipping it into her waist, covering it with her stained blouse. He arrived in the Cadillac, opening his door, his eyes grew as wide as the moon, staring down at his boss's dead daughter.

“What in the hell happened here? This was supposed to be an easy job, the Don wants all of you in one piece!”

Maria held the gun up to Vito, and she smirked so shrewdly at him. With the subtle blink of her eyes, she spoke so harmonious.

“We are all in one piece Vito, but he never said that the pieces needed to be breathing.”

“Pop, pop!” Maria injected two bullets into Vito, bringing him down next to Maria. She proceeded with a demonic laugh. Santino looked at her in shock, she just killed another.

“Santino, let's go see Don Borsellino, he'll be expecting our arrival.”

Maria walked with such confidence and attitude, she and Santino hopped into the car, leaving the corpses to rot at the foot of the Cathedral. They landed at the Borsellino Estate promptly at eleven fifteen. Don Borsellino awaited in the courtyard, sipping on a glass of pinot grigio. Maria carried the sack of money on her back, and strutted with such poise. She stood in front of the Don and slammed the bag down onto the glass table, spilling the wine all over Vincenzo.

“Oh, Maria, how nice of you, ruining my new suit. And my money! Splendid, I assume there was no trouble finding out that you stole from your pathetic church? Wait, where is my daughter, and Vito?”

“Oh Zio Vincenzo there was no trouble. I was hurt at first, but it was smooth sailing. And Mima, Vito, they went swimming, they got tired, so they're sleeping with the fishes.”

“Mi scusi (excuse me)! What did you do to them?”

“Dominica was going to kill me anyway Zio. She held a gun to Santino's head, so in my defense, he killed her. When Vito arrived, I had no choice but to shoot him too, he would have got us in trouble. They're at the Cathedral, soaking in each others blood, like your wine all over you. Do you like the new color to my blouse Zio? It's a new style, Mima's remains.”

My brother stared in discomfort at his niece. This sweet, loving child of God turned spawn of Satan, a she-devil. He held back his tears and yelled to Maria.

“How could you let this happen? How could you do this, take my child from me! Maria, why?”

“She killed my innocence and poisoned my faith. She drowned me in lies, so in return, she lost her life, it only seems fair Don Borsellino.”

She snarled at him, while all this time, Santino stood, smiling at the Don. How foolish was he to think that nothing would go wrong. Just so facetious. My brother stood from his chair, sweeping off the wine droplets from his hands. He raised his hand and pointed an index finger to the two of them. With all of the wrath of Hell behind him, and the fury of Satan, he screamed.

“Leave my sight, never return! You hear me? I never want to hear or see of you anywhere around here. You have caused me serious pain, you have taken my child and one of my mafiosos, go rot in Hell you two! Go, andare!”

Santino and Maria glided down the stone walkway, bouncing away in snickers. They left the money with the Don, they didn't need it. Maria got to the car and let Santino take it home to Palermo. She decided to walk. Santino passionately kissed Maria good-bye, hoping to see her again someday. Maria waved him off and lingered around until she saw the car lights fade away. She progressed on to her home, it would only be an hour walk. Not too bad. She kept laughing to herself, 'Well, Maria ol' girl, you got the rush of a lifetime, assisted in a mafia crime, stole from your church, and got your cousin killed. You even murdered a man yourself, bravo!' She is hysterical, my child, a murderer. She is rotting in Hell for this, my brother was not wrong on that one.

Maria sped up her pace, she saw the flickering candle lights of the Cathedral clock tower in the distance, so she knew she was close to home. Twenty minutes flew by and Maria walked by the Cathedral. Promenading up to the foot of the steps, she smirked, hovering over the perished bodies of Dominica and Vito.

'Poor, poor souls, have fun in Hell, I'll meet you there someday, maybe we can reminisce and laugh a this later on.”

She thought she was funny. I, did not. My wish was not coming true, never going to see my daughter join me in Heaven one day, no way in Hell. She had broken my heart, stomped all over me this time. Why Maria, why?

Maria paced around the carcasses, chortling at their soulless eyes and the wounds in their abdomens. She reached into her left pocket and untangled the rosary, staining it with her bloody fingers. Looping it over on her middle finger, she began to swing it in a circular fashion. Rolling her head to the rhythm of the beads, she closed her eyes and resting her mind for a spell. The clock struck midnight, Maria decided it was high time she went home. She stopped twirling the rosary in her fingers, and let go so smoothly, watching it dribble in the blood and sink into the fleshy waters. She bent down and kissed the forehead of Dominica.

“Thanks for the adrenaline rush cugino, it's been a real ride....Vacin' o mare, facimmo 'ammore, a core a core, pe' nce spassa, so marenaro e tiro 'a rezza ma, p'allerezza, stongo a muri...”