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1557 Words

Arturo. I light a cigarette, outside Lead university, another obscene property of one of the city’s mafia. King Salvatore. I remember him like the back of my hand and the memories where what, eight years ago? When I was a teenager, my father worked for Lead Enterprises, he was a direct assistant of Carlo Salvatore. And one day, men in black suits entered our house, pushed my mother away, dragged my father out in his drawers, made him kneel on the porch and beat him up. Swollen face. Swollen cheeks. Apparently, someone stole from the man and he sent his men to terrorize everyone of his workers which included my father. The security department in the state pretended not to hear or see the complaints. They turned blind eyes, deaf ears and I just remember my mother treating his bruises ev

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