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One Saturday afternoon, this past summer, my sister in law and I were out doing some shopping when we decided to stop for lunch. We headed over to a local pizzeria where the both of us had worked at about 12 or so years ago when we were both still in high school. I wasn't completely crazy about going there because I had a little bit of the history with a couple of the workers but decided to go anyway. We arrived at the place and after saying hello to a few of the workers that we recognized, we grabbed a seat at one of the tables and ordered our lunch. The place was owned by an older Italian guy, and was pretty much run by him and three of his sons. The reason that I wasn't so crazy about going back to the place, takes me back about 12 years.

I had been working an afternoon shift at the pizzeria and when my shift was over, one of the owner's sons, offered me a ride home. His name was Mario, and he was the owner's youngest son, probably 18 or 19 years old at the time, as was I. I accepted his offer and we hopped in his car. On the way, he told me that he had a stop at his house to grab a few things because he was going out later that night. I didn't think anything of it and just went along. We arrived at the house and he told me that he was going to be a few minutes and invited me in. I said sure, and followed him into the house. Once inside, I saw his older brother Mike was home and joined him in the living room where he was watching TV. I knew him from the pizzeria as well since we all worked together. He was probably in his mid-20s at the time. Mike and I began chatting and he ended up giving me a tour of the house while I waited ...

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