Pisaries Creator

His name was bestowed on him by his proud father. He became the second of his name. It was quite unfortunate he never lived up to the standards his father had paved the way when he was a child. He grew into a teenager, rebellious and mean. As he aged into middle hood, it was no surprise his personality was referred to as ugly and his face as disgusting. 
Time often heals wounds, and in this moment, he believed time stopped because he said he had the power inside of him. He believed he could bend time to his will, conduct his interactions with people for his betterment without restriction, and weaken his enemies with complete disregard for their welfare. His goal was to have many victims in his wake. The more the better. He did not care if they suffered. 
Most would find the flailing of arms and tired legs distressing, and equally find eminent drowning of people something to be prevented but not for Provenatti. He had everything he wished for including his sculptures around him. He found them both comforting and protecting as he fell asleep on specially designed pillows with the best feathers in the world. He was not my friend or foe. I came to know Provenatti in my youth as he was my cousin. He loved his own blood and would do anything for his family. He treated me as a brother. I was more than a brother because he only had sisters. I was his confidant. His sisters grew to hate him as half the population of our country did when he became a man of his word. 
If I had to pinpoint the exact moment when my tide turned away from him, it was the meeting behind closed doors with another powerful man without me. I knew what I had to do. He had crossed that broken bridge. I wasn't sure if I would be forgiven for my actions in our family, but the greater good depended on his sacrifice. I had to fully accept this task and was certain of my heart in the matter. 
When the moment arrived for me to take the first step in our relationship, I spoke to him with kindness.                                                                                    
"My dear brother, here you are in front of me. One of the most powerful men in the world."
"I am the most powerful."
"Forgive my mistake."
"I will but only because we have the same blood."
"Thank you for your generosity," I said. "We should take a walk to the gardens. You know the one when we were children."
"The one where you got us lost and we both missed supper."
"There were more good times than bad."
"Indeed, there were," my cousin said. "We should talk about our future. There is much to discuss about our current situations."
"I'm all ears."
As he took his steps with his long legs, I stayed behind him out of respect. He would soon realize he was not superior and did not have luck on his side. He was superstitious in his youth because of his grandmother. 
She had come from across the water and instilled in him the merits of using advice found outside the Bible. We reached the gardens and Provenatti took his eyes away from the path to admire the beautiful flowers our grandmother had instructed to be planted along the edges. 
She had wanted the measurements to be exact between the lined roses. Every day she was outside with the landscapers making sure they were doing the proper things landscapers should doing. Each of the assorted colors had different meanings for her. The purple roses proved to be the strongest of them all. Half a mile into our walk along the path, my cousin lost interest in the flowers.
“How beautiful it is to be a part of nature. I think we should go to the place where you used to make out with that woman you still adore.”
“Are you going soft on me?,” I asked.
“No.”
“Then why are you bringing up Bridgette after all these years.”
“She meant a great deal to you even though she was American.”
“She wasn’t right for me. Besides, I’m perfectly happy with Ravenna. She’s given me two beautiful sons and daughters.”
“No argument there.”
“Then what’s your point?”
“I don’t know,” he said, laughing. “Maybe, I wish I had the luxury you do. You have purpose, but you don’t need to have the kind of enthusiasm like I do.”
“You definitely got that from your father.”
“He was the greatest man on Earth, better than your brother by far.”
“He was,” I said and swallowed my annoyance. 
My decision to give him a painless death was on my mind as Provenatti chattered on about his great father. I took out my flask from my pocket and gave it to him. I didn’t have much left but any little drop would do us both some good.
When we reached the spot where I had envisioned him taking his last breaths, he had drunk the rest of my flask and wanted more that I did not have. I had him in the palm of my hand. He would do anything on a dare as a child. This only increased when he became an adult. All I needed him to do was want more in the end. All he had to do was make that one foolish mistake. He almost gave it to me on a silver platter.
“Come here,” I said. “Look around." Provenatti turned a full circle again and looked directly into my eyes. We stared at each other for a few seconds. "This is your family legacy, not mine but yours. It was our grandmother who loved you the most out of all her grandchildren. It was our grandfather who gave your father the largest part of the family estate and jewels. It was your father who bestowed upon you the same and that you will do with your children. These flowers don’t belong to me. They never did and never will. You have all the power to do as you please. If you want to tear up all the roses and plant new ones, you can.”
“Can I trust your secrecy?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I wish it was a dream not a nightmare, but someone instructed me to do something I never thought I could do,” my cousin said.
“What was it?” I asked.
I backed away from him when he told me he wanted to kill me.
“I have no intention of following through.”
“Forgive me, cousin, but how am I supposed to believe you.”
“We are blood.”
“Even blood dries up and washes away with the right amount of water.”
My cousin grabbed my flask and unscrewed the cap. Nothing came out when he tried to empty it into his mouth.
“Damn you for not being fully prepared.”
“I forgot how deep your appetite goes.”
“It’s no matter.”
“Who asked you to kill me?”
“Forget it.”
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. My own cousin trying to kill me. I don’t think there’s a worse betrayal. 
“Give me your hand.” When he didn’t put out his hand, I grabbed it and pulled it close to his face. He looked at the scar stretching across his palm. “That means our blood mixed and nothing would come between us. Nothing and now it has, thanks to your weakness.”
“Ha!” Provenatti said. “I should say the same to you. I know the reason I’m here. Do you deny that you wanted to kill me in the same spot we once shared in our youth?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Liar.”
“You don’t have any proof.”
“I have all the proof I need, and I don’t answer to you, do I?”
“That’s right, you answer to no one, my dear cousin.”
“How dare you think we are still cousins.”
“We are and there’s nothing you can do about it,” I said.
He stared at me with those eyes similar to mine. Our fathers would’ve been horrified we had tried to kill each other. They were powerful patriarchs we imagined them to be. Our children looked at us the same way. This was a different time.
“We should get back,” he said.
“Yes, we should,” I said.
There wasn’t much time left, only seconds as I walked behind him as I always did. I could continue with my plan to preserve my integrity, or I could let him live in fear of him killing me as revenge. I caught a strong scent of the roses while I pulled out my pocketknife. 
Our grandmother would have to find forgiveness in her buried heart for spilling family blood among her beautiful flowers.