They Took My Liver,Then They Cried at My Grave
A lethal neurotoxin had taken hold of my lungs.
My time is running out.
My mother, Sofia, was the most connected lawyer in Palermo, excelling in burying crimes and twisting the law.
When my brother Vincent mowed me down and shattered my leg, she called in every favor to clear his record.
My father, Tommaso, the most feared private doctor in Sicily, faked my medical files, branding me unstable and delusional, all to mold me into the obedient son they needed.
Then there was Lina, only daughter of Don Vitali, my wife.
She said, “We let him out for Vincent’s liver. What if he says no?”
Dad’s voice went cold.
“He has two choices: lie quietly on that operating table… or waste away in the sanatorium for what’s left of his life.”
I pushed the parlor door open, steady and slow.
My voice was flat.
“I’ll do it.”
Every one of them let out a breath they’d been holding, showering me with hollow words.
They didn’t know there was no life left to threaten.
I had twenty-four hours.
By sunrise, I would be dead either way.
Funny… now that I’m in the ground, why are they all crying?