Truths and Chains – Chapter Four

NOT EDITED

Tito had left him in that hellhole for six months. Six fucking months. The day Vito finally tasted any semblance of freedom, the bastard had the audacity to not come pick him up. Instead, Vito found his parents standing at the end of the driveway. “Momma,” Vito whispered, dropping his bag to run to his adoptive mother. He wrapped her in a hug, sinking to his knees so he didn’t have to tower over her, just this once.

“Oh, baby, it’s so good to see you,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “I can’t even tell you how hard it was to get your brother to tell us where you had been. Where you were.”

Vito turned his head so his cheek rested on her stomach. “He didn’t just… tell you after he put me in here?”

“No. Getting that information out of him was like pulling teeth,” Vito’s dad said. He laid a comforting hand on the back of his son’s head.

“H-he knew I didn’t want you guys to know I was a worthless druggie.”

“No, baby. You’re not worthless. You made some calls that… maybe weren’t the best for you or your health or the people around you, but that doesn’t make you worthless,” his mom said.

Vito turned to bury his face in her stomach again, arms banded tightly around her. ‘Back in the day’, as Vito’s dad usually put it, Alexander had been an American tourist in Italy during his skip year between high school in college. He didn’t speak a lick of the language, and ‘an absolutely stunning college freshman’ had saved him from a pickpocketer and, despite the language barrier, had shown him around Italy. The freshman, of course, had been Marissa, and by the end of the semester, he’d fallen head over heels for her. He’d packed his bags back home and moved to Italy to be with her, and they were married by the time Marissa graduated college.

After several pregnancies that had resulted in little more than grief, pain, and heartbreak, the couple had given up on children. The very next night, someone had pounded on their door, and when Marissa had opened it, she had found no one there, only a box in the rain on the concrete steps outside the building. There, she found what she and Alexander would deem to be miracles: Tito and Vito Minetti, a last name that presumably belonged to one of their biological parents. Given that their biological mother was a murdered Jane Doe, he’d never known which parent, but he’d always assumed it must have belonged to their piece of shit bio-dad.

They were perfect. His parents, not Vito. Definitely not Vito. They had always been perfect, no matter the hurdles life put in their path. His parents were part of some make believe fairytale life Vito liked to live in sometimes, one where he wasn’t a fucking monster that enjoyed torturing and killing people for the mob, one where he wasn’t burying himself in women, drugs, and booze.

One where he wasn’t such a massive piece of shit to everyone who dared pretend to care about him for even half a second.

Alexander and Marissa believed both boys to be perfect little angels. The tattoo artist and his canvas. The Army guy and the boxer. The college grad and his dyslexic ‘little’ brother. The impressively skilled driver and the mechanic. But what they really were was something neither of their parents would ever be able to handle if they knew. It would kill them. Tito had told Vito that so many times that it was one of the few things genuinely burned into the forefront of his mind at all times.

“Where… where is Tito?” Vito asked, his voice muffled by Marissa’s shirt.

“In the parking lot with the car. He said he was worried you wouldn’t want to see him,” Alexander said. “Is that true? That you don’t want to see him?”

“I… I wanna see him.”

“Then let’s get you up, baby,” Marissa said.

Vito pulled away from her and grabbed her hands, rising to his feet as Alexander walked past him to grab his bag from the driveway. Marissa’s much smaller, much more delicate hand held tightly in his, Vito walked with his parents to the parking lot. Tito was leaned back against their car. “Can I talk to him alone for a second, before you guys catch up?” Vito asked.

“Of course. We’ll be right here, baby.” Marissa gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it.

Vito made his way over to his brother. “You look like shit.” And for once, it wasn’t even just one of Vito’s little asshole comments. He truly looked like hell. He’d clearly lost weight, which he seemed to be trying to hide with a jacket that was too big for him. His shooting arm was in a cast and a sling.

“They cut your hair,” Tito whispered, reaching for Vito with his good hand. Vito tilted his head to the side, dodging his touch. Tito dropped his hand to his chest, like he’d been mortally wounded by the action. Or the haircut. “No one told me they’d cut your hair.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d come to visit me in the hellhole a couple times, you woulda known that sooner.”

“I wanted to, Vi. I tried so many fucking times. You didn’t want me there.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before?”

“They have guards, Vi. Security. It’s not like back home where I can just unlock your door, y’know?” Tito said through a laugh that definitely didn’t find the situation funny. “They’ve got rules, Vi. You put me on the no-visitors list. They take that shit pretty seriously. It actually means something.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Tito whispered.

Vito cleared his throat, reaching out to poke his brother’s cast. “What’d you do?”

“Fell down a flight of stairs.”

“No worse for wear, then.”

Tito chuckled. “Fourteen stitches in the back of my head. Arm’s in the sling for another two weeks.”

“How long you been outta commission so far?”

“Four weeks.”

“Jesus. And… the cast?”

“Broke my wrist. They think it’ll be okay to come off about the same time the sling does.”

Vito crossed his arms over his chest. “And you lost weight.”

Tito lifted his good shoulder. “Is what it is. You look good, though, aside from the hair. I can’t believe they cut it off.”

“Yeah, well, is what it is,” Vito echoed.

Tito nodded. “A-are you still gonna kill me now that you’re out? Or can I give you a hug?”

The way he asked it, like it was a genuine concern, like he was ready to simply lay down and take his death like a man if it was what Vito wanted, broke him. Vito wrapped his arms around his brother, unable to stop the tears once they broke through the dam.

Tito tucked Vito’s head beneath his chin, hand moving over the back of his short hair. “I’m so sorry,” Tito whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do. I-I had to keep you safe. I’m so sorry.”

***

Vito had spent the day with his brother and their parents, even happily agreeing to spend the night at their house before flying back to Kansas. “I think I wanna see Luca and Malik tomorrow before we go back home. Apologize and stuff,” Vito said as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Tito said, his voice quiet.

“Why not? Are they still mad? Like… really mad?”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what’s it about? They don’t wanna see me?”

“No, I’m… I’m sure they do, Vi. I just…” Tito cleared his throat, looking down as he moved his left hand close enough to his other hand to undo the clasp of his watch. He dropped it into his palm and reached over to set it on the nightstand. “What’d you take today?”

Vito couldn’t help but laugh. “The fuck are you talking about? I’ve been locked away in Hell for six months, and you’ve all been totally up my ass today, but you somehow think I’ve managed to get my hands on something?”

“I’m not mad,” Tito said, his head bowed, his gaze locked on the floor. “I just want to know what it was.”

“Get your head outta your fuckin’ ass, Ti. Jesus. Not even home twelve hours, and you’re already fuckin’ everything up for me.”

“I’m not mad,” Tito repeated. “But I’m not going to let you go see Malik and Luca if you’re high, and I know that you are. I’m not even gonna tell anybody else, Vi. I just want to know what it is and where you got it.”

Vito stared at his brother for an eternity before clearing his throat. “Right now? Valium. The rehab place.”

“Was it prescribed to you?” Tito asked. Vito shook his head. “Did you steal it?”

“I’m not a thief.”

“Okay,” Tito whispered. “So how’d you get it?”

Vito licked his lips, leg bouncing as he stared at his brother, who still wouldn’t look up at him. “Favors. Sexual favors.”

“With one of the other patients?”

“Just once. She had Vicodin.”

“The… the doctors?”

“And a couple orderlies. And one of the guards.”

Tito stayed silent for a long time. “Okay,” he finally managed to force out.

“Okay,” Vito echoed. “That’s it? You find out I’ve still been doing drugs the last six months, and all you have to say is okay?”

“What do you want me to say, Vi? I researched that place for months before I finally stopped chickening out. Months, and I still dropped you into a place where they tried to strip you of your identity, a-and when that didn’t work, they just caved and took advantage of you and gave you whatever drugs you wanted instead.”

“They didn’t take advantage of me. I was a willin’ participant.”

“Yeah,” Tito whispered, “I’m sure most drug addicts feel that way.”

Vito rubbed his hands together before clasping them between his thighs. “It’s not like it’s your fault, Ti. I just… like the way they make me feel. What’s so bad about that?”

“It’s gonna kill you someday, and I’m gonna have to stand next to Mom and Dad and bury their son, my baby brother, because I couldn’t find him something that made him feel good about being alive that wasn’t dark and dangerous.”

“God, you’re such a girl sometimes. All your fuckin’ feelings and shit.”

“I guess I am,” Tito said, eyes still glued to the floor. “You aren’t the only one whose had a rough go of life, Vito.”

Vito rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. You and Jamal and Luca all had such a hard time, and even though Luca turned to drugs and sex, he got sober and stayed sober because he’s so strong. And you and Jamal are so strong and so brave for not trying drugs when you had the chance and all the excuses to do it. Get off my fuckin’ back.”

“I didn’t say… any of that.”

“Whatever. Just because you don’t say it out loud doesn’t mean it ain’t there. I know you’re thinkin’ it.”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah? Then what are you thinking that’s keeping you from even bein’ able to look me in the fuckin’ eye?”

Tito finally lifted his head, teary eyes focusing on Vito’s face. Jesus Christ, Vito wished he hadn’t goded him into looking at him. “If I had just grown a pair and stopped the Fosters the first time they touched me, you woulda been safe,” he whispered. “And you… you woulda been okay. But I didn’t, not till it was too late. I helped make you like this. I helped… I did this to you, Vito. Me.”

Even high Vito was having a hard time finding a way to lash out at him for that one. Tito had always been there to protect Vito, to keep him as safe as he possibly could. But who the hell had been there for his big brother to do the same?

By the time Vito made it over to Tito’s bed, the slightly taller twin was sobbing, something Vito genuinely couldn’t remember ever seeing, even the night he killed the Fosters. Tentatively, Vito wrapped his brother in a hug. Tito threw his good arm around him, fingers clutching at the back of his shirt.

“We were just kids, Ti. You were just a kid,” Vito said quietly. “A-a kid with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you… you never shoulda had to deal with that. I-I’m sorry that you had to for me. You did everything you could for me. You still do. Everything. A-and you shouldn’t have had to.” He laid a hand on the back of his brother’s head, his brow furrowed as his big, strong, knight in shining armor brother cried into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry I was too busy getting drunk and high to see you were struggling too. I’m so sorry.”

***

Vito had been staring at his brother for a good twenty minutes before Tito finally woke up, shifting to rub his face with his good hand. He sniffled as he sat up, gaze settling on Vito’s face. “Hey. What’re you doing up?” Tito asked, his voice rough. Vito told himself that was from still being tired instead of from the crying. It was easier that way.

Vito pulled a bag from his pajama pants’ pocket and tossed it across the room. Tito caught it, holding it up to the light filtering through the window. “That’s the rest of my stash from the rehab place,” Vito said after a moment. “But I’ll have you know I worked really hard for that, so… you owe me pancakes as soon as we get back to Kansas.”

The sound that fell from Tito’s lips was caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Deal.”

“Can we… can we see Malik and Luca before we go? Maybe JP if he’s here? I promise I didn’t take any more last night. I promise.”

“Yeah,” Tito whispered. “Yeah, we can see anyone you wanna see.”

“Do… do you need me to drive?”

Tito lifted his head long enough to offer a small smile. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay.”

Tito cleared his throat as he adjusted the strap of his sling. “I’d like to talk to Bo about the rehab place, see what he can do about getting the people who need to be fired out of there. Do you remember how many of them that would be?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“Why, so when you send me back, you know I can’t sleep my way to a couple pills again?” Vito asked.

“I’m not sending you anywhere. There are other vulnerable people there, people who went there for help, people being taken advantage of instead of getting the help they deserve.”

“So… you won’t send me back?”

“No, I won’t send you back.”

After a moment, Vito nodded. “There were four orderlies, two of the quacks, and one of the guards.”

“Jesus.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m nothing if not accomplished in the sex department.”

Unfortunately, Tito didn’t even crack a smile, just a sad, tired glance in his direction. “Do you know their names?”

“You’re asking if I remembered their names? Who the fuck you think you’re talkin’ to?”

“That’s fair.” Tito lifted his good hand to scratch the side of his head. “If Bo could get ahold of some staff pictures, would you be able to recognize them?”

“Yeah.”

Tito nodded. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll start there.” He cleared his throat as he pushed himself to his feet. “C’mon. We’ll have breakfast with Mom and Dad and I’ll call Bo on the way to Malik and Luca’s place. Sound good?”

Vito shrugged. “You’re gonna do it no matter what I think of it.”

“Also fair,” Tito agreed.

Vito stood up and followed his brother out of the room. “You said you… fell down the stairs?”

“Yeah.”

“That actually true?”

Tito chuckled. “It is.”

“How?”

“People trip and fall all the time, Vito.”

“Yeah, clumsy people. You ain’t clumsy. You’re, like… whatever the opposite of clumsy is.”

“I was dizzy.”

“Does that… happen a lot?”

Tito lifted his good shoulder in a shrug. “Off and on the last two months or so.”

“You seen Doc about it?”

“He told me to buy some Dramamine and stop being such a pussy.”

“I’m gonna kill him. No one but me gets to call you a pussy.”

Tito snorted. “Appreciate the defense of my honor, Vi.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Before Tito could turn out of the hallway, Vito grabbed his good arm. “You’re, like, okay though, right?”

“I’m fine. The motion sickness stuff has helped.”

“Good. ‘Cause, like, I know I don’t say it a lot, but—”

“I know, Vi.”

“But I love you, and I want you to be okay,” Vito finished.

Tito offered a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, Vi, I promise. Doc says there’s, like… a million things that could cause the dizziness thing, and it’s not like it’s all the time or anything. Aside from the little stair stumble, it hardly affects my daily life.”

“Yeah, but you always say Doc’s a drunk and what he says doesn’t matter.”

Tito chuckled. “And to think I always assumed you didn’t listen to a single damn thing I say.”

“I listen. I just, y’know… am an asshole and like to make sure you know it at every possible chance I’m given.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of it, don’t worry. You’ve done a real thorough job, Vi.”

Vito smiled before it fell again. “But this one time, when it’s your health instead of mine, you’re gonna listen to Doc? I get a papercut, and you want me to go to the ER to make sure Doc didn’t do something to infect it. You get so dizzy you fall down the stairs and break your arm, fuck up your shoulder, and crack your head open, and you just… take some Dramamine?”

“If you’re that worried, I’ll go to a real doctor. I’m just… not that worried. I feel fine outside of the occasional dizziness and nausea, and the Dramamine has totally taken care of that. Until it stops taking care of it, I don’t see the point in doing anything else.”

“Right,” Vito said, dragging the word out over several beats. “You feel that way about it all the time, or only because you’re punishing yourself for locking me up at the nut house?”

“It was a rehab center.”

“Filled with nuts. Myself included,” Vito said. “So the question stands.”

“You know, this version of you is actually kind of more annoying than your usual annoying little brother persona.”

“Good, I’m planning on keeping this one for a while,” Vito said. “So?”

Tito let out a breath, his shoulders sinking just enough for Vito to notice. “I don’t know. I guess… it’s possible the guilt from sending you to rehab could have something to do with the decision to just go see Doc instead of a doctor that… still has their license.”

“But your little topple down the stairs happened before you knew that I was sleeping with the staff for drugs or that they cut my hair. Why were you guilty before that?”

Tito stared at his brother for a moment, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

“Well, even I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”

“You aren’t stupid.”

“Way to swerve the topic again. You know, that’s supposed to be my special skill, and it’s pretty fucked up for you to be out here trying to steal it from me.”

Finally, Tito cracked an actual smile, and he even chuckled a little. “When Luca needed help, Jamal was that help. Jamal and Malik. They saved him, every single time. Jamal sat with him through every detox and fought every single urge with him. Every single time. It was just them. No rehab. No doctors. No psychologist. No guards or orderlies or white rooms or basically shaving his fucking head. Just… them. Family.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it was, like, the sixties. It wasn’t like Lucchese was gonna give Luca a paid holiday to go to rehab every time he got hooked on the shit again,” Vito said. “Besides, Luca wanted help. I didn’t. You would not have gotten me sober without locking me up somewhere.”

“I arguably didn’t get you sober even when I did lock you up somewhere.”

“Fair,” Vito said after a moment. “But that’s not your fault either. You said you researched the place for months. It’s not like you knew I was gonna start selling myself for a fucking pill here and there. It’s fucking embarrassing, dude, the shit I’d do for a hit. That’s not on you. I put my own big boy pants on and made my own big boy decisions. From our little chat last night, it kinda seems like you already shoulder the blame for just about every single problem in my life. How about you go ahead and let me shoulder the blame for this one, huh? Let me take the blame for my choices, and you go see a real fuckin’ doctor so I know you’re okay. Okay?” “Okay,” Tito whispered. He pulled his arm from Vito’s grip so that he could give his brother’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “Okay. I will, I promise. But let’s start with breakfast, yeah?”
Vito nodded. “That, I can get behind. Lead the way.”

---

Enjoying the story? Consider dropping a comment or a like down below!!

---