Pretending to Be an Untouchable Crime Boss

The questions in his head were… nonexistent as Darvik left the room… like he was just stunned to the extent that there was no thought, no questions, no nothing… like a feeling where you understand the solution, understand the truth, but you can't act on it, you can't think about it, because it's just sheer madness… it just does not make sense to even think it is real.

But oh boy, it is real, too real, as suddenly out of nowhere James's body, his soul, realized that he needed to panic… he needed to feel what fear was, what shock was… and it was fast, it was too sudden as his whole being now was just shaking, his heartbeat was up in the sky, the sweat rolled down his whole body, it was like he got overdosed by some drug… but it wasn't no drug but all the emotions, all the things he was pushing down again getting to the surface.

A panic attack… as his breath was short, he could even control it, just like if he could even try, his vision became blurry, his head spun, as he realized that he just jumped straight into a whole fucking situation that he didn't even know shit about, that he sent his family to this country and the thought… that thought that maybe just maybe it could have turned into the worst of the worst.

Yeah, with the panic attack came finally the thought that just made the whole situation worse for him.

What would have happened if Maraci, if this Darvik, used his family to manipulate him? What if they would have been kidnapped, would have been tortured? What would have happened if Maraci or Darvik would be this friendly but the complete opposite of it… and he sent them here with the thought they are in a safe country while in the meantime he just put them in the middle of the biggest threat?

All the thoughts in his mind just spiraled back to Darvik as he said that they protect those who pay enough… what would have happened if Emmanuel from the cartel would have been with Darvik if he would have been paid enough… what would have happened to James's family, to his mother, to Charlotte, to Bella?

He could only think about the danger of Maraci, the danger of this, what he did, what he decided, though… it didn't make any sense… because Darvik clearly said that there are rules to it, rules that in Maraci nobody can kill nobody, a safe spot.

But he just could not stop thinking about all of it, and most importantly that whatever he does things get fucked… something always comes to the surface.

"Control it, control your breath, control it." He whispered to himself as he leaned back at the chair closing his eyes. "They are safe James, don't think about it, don't think about it."

Yeah, the final stage of the panic, maybe the most disgusting one, is when the mind is playing games with you, when you know to not think about a certain thing, but your head, your mind just playing this picture, that imagery picture and scenario.

It was brutal and terrifying… it was about his family… to see them, to imagine them chopped up, imagine their screams, their begging… their hatred… all of it was in his mind, in front of him as he closed his eyes.

And it just wouldn't fade away.

He gritted his teeth, clenched so hard his jaw hurt, he clutched his fist so much that his nail dug into his skin… but it didn't stop the pictures. Nothing worked, not breathing, not that fake voice in his head that told him everything was fine.

It wasn't fine.

"It's not real, not real, just stop it, they are fine, they are good." He whispered, but the images still came…

Charlotte's little hand reaching out, her mouth open, screaming for him as her body just covered full with blood… then there is Erika… not screaming, just looking at him. Just staring without anger, without fear… with one simple question… just why?

It wasn't real… but it felt real. His mind, his own fucking mind was doing this to him.

The blood, the screaming, the begging. The way their faces twisted in pain, in terror, and his mom just stared at him in the darkness.

"Control it, control your breath…" He whispered, hand shaking as he pressed it over his face. "They're safe. They're okay. It's not happening. It's not real."

But again it just felt real… to real and something inside him was screaming louder than anything else.

That voice, the voice of uncertainty, the voice of suffering.

What if it happens? What if it's already happening? What if this time, you were too late?

He hated that voice, he hated himself. He saw their broken bodies, he heard Charlotte's voice beg him not to let go. He saw blood where there was none. He heard screaming where there was silence.

"Just breathe…"

His nails had already torn through the skin of his palm, but he didn't release his grip, didn't even loosen it, because the pain helped him stay grounded, helped him believe he was still here and not lost inside the screaming halls of his own fucking mind.

"Just breathe… just breathe… just fucking breathe…" But every breath he tried to take felt like there was something wrapped around his lungs, squeezing, laughing, dragging him deeper into the same place he always ended up… his own darkness made up by the suffering.

He saw her again, his mother, still, silent, not a trace of fear in her face, just that stare… that cold, empty stare that asked the one question he couldn't answer, the one question that kept tearing into him no matter how many times he said it wasn't real, wasn't true, wasn't happening…why?

And maybe he didn't have the answer because deep down, he knew the question wasn't even hers, it was his… it came from that place inside him that never healed, that never shut up, that kept whispering that he was the reason for everything, that he was the root of the rot, the shadow that cursed everything he touched… and as he sat there, trembling, jaw clenched, blood dripping slowly from his hand onto the floor, he realized something that made his chest hurt even more… maybe he wasn't just afraid of losing them he was—

"James!" A loud voice called out, it was Mike and as grabbed James's face, cupping it and looking deep into his eyes, he immediately knew something was wrong, his pupils were wide open, his eyes bloodshot, and there was sweat all over his face, along with heavy breathing. He quickly put his finger to James's pulse. It was racing, almost like he was about to have a heart attack. "Are you—"

"I'm… good" James said, pushing him away and standing up, though he almost fell as his leg buckled, but Mike immediately grabbed him.

"James, you—"

"I'm good, Mike!" He raised his voice, but everyone knew it wasn't true. Even though he knew it deep down… he was just too selfish to show his weakness, to show himself as broken.

Something that maybe one day… would be his death.