Page 308 of Marcello

That’ll do.

As I took it back up to the third floor, one of the other guys on the crew saw me and laughed. “Yo, Schizzato – what the fuck’re you doin’ with that sledgehammer, man?”

“Nothin’,” I said as I dragged the sledgehammer behind me.

I’d only been in the crew six months. My second day on the job, Cesare nicknamed me ’O Schizzato.

That’s what everybody called me now: ‘the Psycho.’

But I wasn’t.

I could just see things everybody else couldn’t.

Hear things they couldn’t.

Like right now.

Once I got back to the hallway, I took another drag on my joint –

Then swung the sledgehammer.

CRACK!

The wood paneling splintered.

After another couple swings, there was a jagged hole big enough for me to stick my head through – but it was dark in there. I couldn’t see nothin’, so I pulled out my Zippo, stuck my hand through the hole, and lit it up.

A secret tunnel.

“Nice,” I muttered to myself.

Now I definitely had to get in there…

And find the crying bitch.

99

Giulietta

Ihad been sobbing without realizing it. It started when my phone finally died.

There wasn’t any reception, but I could at least look at my text messages from Romeo. They were my only comfort over the last couple days of hunger, boredom, and grief –

And then the red bar slowly ticked down until the phone shut off.

I was all alone in the darkness.

By that point, I hadn’t seen Romeo in over 36 hours.

It felt like forever. I was terrified he was hurt –

Or dead.

Just like everyone in my family.

Papa…

Mama…