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after-all.
For a while, that cop I told you about kept you out of trouble, but
I knew it wouldn’t last forever… It’s his fault you wound up here.
Don’t blame yourself for any of this… I want you to know that I
took care of him for you. You don’t mess with us Moriellos, right?
Listen, you know I love you, with all my heart, I do, but this
place can’t fix you. Nothing can fix you.”
    He paused again, struggling to contain his
emotions.
    “You can open your eyes now.”
    Alberto, completely unaware of his surroundings, uncovered his
eyes to find the muzzle of Tony’s signature .38 revolver aiming
directly at his head.
    “Goodbye, Al…”

Chapter 3
     
    Eight months had passed since Tony shot Alberto dead in the
asylum. The nurse had also been found dead; strangled to death
inside the observing cubicle, but after a small bribe and some
wonderful acting by Barbara the receptionist, the cops were happy
to put it down to a security error on the restricted floor, which
ultimately resulted in a riot, two deaths and prison time for two
members of staff.
    Another interesting development had occurred during this time,
and that was that Stacey had been made pregnant. She still lived at
Vincent’s place, but had been moved to an old out-building that
used to belong to Vincent Sr. before he passed away. More recently
it had been used to host the infamous Moriello poker nights; some
of the blood stains were still clearly visible on the walls and the
furniture and the smell of smoke and strong whiskey still lingered
in the air.
    The truth of the matter is that Vincent had intended to make
Stacey a housekeeper, working alongside Monica. He believed that
she still had more to offer, and the fact that she had no family or
friends to speak of made her an ideal person to have around in-case
anything came up. Since finding out about the pregnancy, his views
had changed. He wanted her gone. Not necessarily dead, but gone,
for good. So what was stopping him? What was stopping him from
taking her to the sharks, forcing an abortion, or dumping her
somewhere across the border? Well, that would be Raylene, who found
out that the baby was a little Moriello, and ever since had acted
as though it was herself who had got pregnant. It was her idea to
move Stacey into the out-building, as she considered the room in
the main house too small. Of course, she also hated it when Vincent
played poker. Raylene was the only person that Stacey ever said
anything to, although their conversations were never deep or
intrusive, and more often than not it was Raylene doing all the
talking with Stacey her sole, passive audience.
    Raylene had always wanted children of her own, but Vincent had
always been opposed to the idea. There was always a reason, the
latest of which was that he was too old. Before that it was that
Raylene was too old, which considering that she was a full decade
younger than her husband, was taken as an insult. He made bad
choices. He was irresponsible. Always some kind of
excuse.
    With little less than a month left until the due date, Raylene
had visited Stacey for the second time since breakfast, this time
holding a box in her hands and wearing a huge smile on her
face.
    “Look what I have,” she shouted as she bundled through the
door like an excited child. “It’s a baby monitor, so I can watch
you from the house.”
    Stacey took the box unenthusiastically, and pretended to read
what was on the back, whilst Raylene fiddled with the tuning on the
monitor.
    “Look at your bump. I think you’ve grown again since this
morning.”
    “You said that the last time you were here,” Stacey replied
glumly. “How long ago was it? One hour? Not even that?”
    “What’s wrong with you sweet-heart? Mood-swings? It’s only a
mood-swing if your mood changes you know? You’ve been in a bad one
ever since you got here.”
    “What do you expect?”
    Raylene was taken aback by Stacey’s volatile response, and
offered nothing in the way