Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Sarica's question catches me off guard, but it's her jerky tone that has me gritting my teeth.
Don't you dare cry, Gaz!
Because as much as all of this pains me, I also know no one has it harder than Sarica.
So. Don't. You. Dare.
I barely manage to shake my head, and a ghost of a smile touches Sarica's lips. "Do you remember how much I used to hate going to those Bible studies you dragged me to?"
My brows furrow. I'm not sure where she's going with this.
"And how I'd give everyone a hard time because I think it's all a bunch of shit?"
Her words bring back memories that almost make me smile.
Maybe you need to hear me say it the old-school way. We're the fucking mafia, Gaz. You can't expect me to wear a cross around my neck and believe in it, too!
Yes, I do remember those times.
I remember so very clearly how Sarica would try her hardest to pretend she didn't care, and I also remember just as clearly how Sarica wasn't able to fool anyone even then.
Oh yes, I remember.
"There was this one verse that I'd always end up thinking of," Sarica reveals as I turn to face her, "every time I see you or Giancarlo doing something so annoyingly and foolishly honorable."
And even though I'm still not sure where this is going—-
"The LORD will fight for you," Sarica whispers, "you need only to be still.”
My heart is starting to break for some reason.
"And that's w-why," Sarica chokes out. "T-That's why, I can't imagine either of you dying like this. I refuse to believe He'd let either of you die like this."
Everything is suddenly, wonderfully, and painstakingly clear.
"I didn't know shit about God, Gaz. But you and Giancarlo have convinced me that He was the reason I didn't die that day."
I finally see where this is going, and I can't believe I was so blind not to have seen it from the start.
"So you tell me. You tell me, Gaz," Sarica says fiercely. "Why should I believe what the whole world thinks when I know the truth? We know there's no limit to what He can do, so why should I act otherwise? I don't give a fuck about what other people say. It's not Giancarlo's time yet. We both know it isn't. Because there are things he still has to do, things I...things I...have to tell him."
Oh, Sari.
She's always made a show of not being in love with my brother. But it's not like any of us, least of all Giancarlo, ever believed her.
"He's alive, Gaz," Sari says fiercely. "He has to be, and—-"
"You need to stop swearing," I cut her off with a teary laugh.
I'm sorry, God. I forgot who You are, and I started doubting You even without knowing it.
"Because you're right."
And thank You.
Because He's used Sarica to open my eyes, and I'll just have to find a way to make it up to Sarica when this memory comes back to haunt her, and she'll start hating herself for being so nice and emo.
"Hell yes, I'm fucking right!"
A choked laugh escapes me. "What is it with all this swearing?"
"To give Giancarlo nightmares, wherever he is."
Her grim tone doesn't fool me at all.
She knows she's being silly, but she doesn't care.
She wants him back as much as we all do, and I just can't help it anymore.
I throw my arms around her and hug Sarica as tightly as I can even though I know she'll hate it. I just need to hug her right this moment. And even though I'm already expecting Sarica to shove me away any second—-
Oh, Sari.
She starts to cry instead.
And her tears say everything, even without a single word.
You get it, too, don't you, Gaz?
And I cry with her because I do get it.
Giancarlo is still alive.
Because God's got our back, and we don't even have to do anything.
Giancarlo is alive!
Because God promised to fight for him, and God always keeps His promises.
Always.
Journal Entry
It's Day 40, and the people around us have started showing their true colors.
They think they smell blood.
And so they act accordingly.
There are famiglie that have started refusing the calls of our people, and there are those who have been so ill-advised that they believe our city is now theirs for the taking.
They're all acting like they've forgotten how war made us strong in the first place.
War is what forced my grandmother to transform into a queen who avenged the deaths of her husband and son.
War is why we are not and have never been like the sons and daughters of other famiglie.
War is what we've been training for our entire lives.
War is a question of when, not if.
It's something we're ready to die for if need be.
But now that we have also learned how to fight on our knees?
We already know we've won even if a single battle has yet to start.