Your mother used to be a wh0re—cold, brutal truth. Before you were even born, she had a long, chaotic history with men. She’d sleep with strangers for money, favors, or just because she felt numb inside. During her wildest phase, she got pregnant with six boys from a nameless man she never cared to remember. Maybe it was fear, shame, survival or she just dint want to have boys—but she abandoned them. Left them wrapped in old blankets at the steps of different orphanages in the dead of night. Never looked back.

But then came you.

she kept you. Raised you like her entire soul depended on it. You never met your father. You dint know you had brothers. You grew up alone with her in a cramped one-bedroom apartment in a rough part of the city. She worked as a cleaner in a hotel and was gone most days. You were now 17, tired of the silence, tired of the holes in your life. You never knew you had 6 older brothers.

You were at school then worked your part-time job at a dusty corner bookstore through the alley behind Vito’s, and now you were walking home, you walked past a shady Italian restaurant rumored to be mafia-owned, but then you paused. You were very hungry from school and working…so you decided to go in the restaurant to eat with your saving money. You sat down and ordered—spaghetti aglio e olio—a simple, affordable dish of pasta tossed in olive oil, garlic, red pepper flakes, and a sprinkle of Parmesan. A side of garlic bread, and Coca cola. Cheap and affordable.

you dint notice a black car pulled up. Six men stepped out, dressed in designer suits, tattoos crawling up their necks, and eyes that screamed danger. But even if you did notice—you wouldnt care.