“Rosa, get your ass here now!” The deep resonance of his voice carries up the balcony.
“No!” I scream down the stairs at my dad.
I slam my old bedroom door shut, leaning against the heavy wood. This is why I never come home. As if it wasn’t enough having me followed around by his spies, now, he wants me married off. None of that holds my interest. I only come home for one reason: his supply.
Pain sears through my spine as I am thrown onto the floor when he barges through the door. It’s dulled by the fact that I’d already raided his vodka stash before he caught me.
“Get out!” Kicking my legs, I push myself across the smooth floor, away from him.
He yanks me up by the arm. His dark eyes, much like mine, bore into me. His brown hair is graying at the sides, but there isn’t any weakness as his fingers bruisingly tighten into me.
I try to tug it away, but he holds me in place, towering over me. “You need to sort yourself out, girl.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just having fun.” It’s the lie that everyone around me knows. The mafia princess without a care in the world, who goes out to party every night.
“You can’t keep running, Rosa.”
I straighten my spine. “From what, Dad?” I spit out his name with venom.
“You know what.”
I let out a laugh. “You can’t even say it, can you? You can’t accept what happened to me! If you can’t speak about it, how the hell am I supposed to deal with it? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is?”
I snatch my arm from him. He sighs, taking a step away from me. Emboldened, I press closer. The one thing about being constantly drunk and high: the courage that comes with it.
“I am dealing with it the only way I know how. You decided to let him live; you didn’t protect me. The same way you didn’t protect Mom or Nona.”
His eyes flash with anger, his face reddening. He lifts his hand and I flinch. It doesn’t take away the fact he is completely responsible for their deaths. What happened to me was due to his failure.
“Clean yourself up. Next week, I am discussing a marriage arrangement for you. No one is going to want to marry a junkie.”
I bow my head. Tears sting in my eyes. I don’t want to be this way, chasing my demons away with any poison I can find. Anything to make me feel numb, to stop the nightmares, the fear. The embarrassment.
No one understands. Not even my own dad.
“Well, I won’t be getting married, then. Like you said, no man wants a woman like me.”
“Go to therapy, to rehab. You have to find a way. You can’t live like this.”
It’s the only way I know how.
“It’s either you or Eva.” He crosses his arms across his chest, and his jaw tightens as he stares at me down his nose.
My younger sister, my light in the darkness. I’ve protected her since mom died. She’s the one person I try to be better for. The reason I keep myself alive; I can’t leave her with dad on her own. I don’t trust his men. I don’t trust this life. I will never let anything happen to her.
I narrow my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I need to try to forge a deal with Romano. I need his backing to take down that son of a bitch, Russo.” He grits his teeth as he speaks, his fists clenching by his sides.
Wow, that Russo guy has really gotten under his skin. Good.
“That isn’t my problem. I thought Romano was the enemy?”
“He was. The accident was a long time ago. This is my way in.” The accident. He means my mother’s death.
“You can’t make me marry anyone,” I whisper.
I know deep down he can. A bit like every man, they can take away your choice with the snap of their fingers.
He tips my chin up aggressively. “You’ll do as I say. And no more stealing my coke. I’ve locked up my supply. If you’re that desperate, you’ll have to find your own way. Forget the past and grow the fuck up.”
He lets go. I stumble back and watch as he storms out and slams the door behind him. I pull at my hair. Shit. He can’t be serious.
My hands start to shake as anger and panic rush through me. I don’t want to feel. I need my fix before the world creeps back in.
I pull out my phone and call Liv, my best friend. She’s the life of the party, she’ll know where to get the good stuff.
“Girl, where are you?” I can barely hear her over the music.
“I can’t get anything from dad’s,” I whisper, biting at the skin around my nails.
“Well, Miss Mafia Cocktease, looks like you’ll have to bat those lashes at the men at the bar tonight because I’m out until Carlos can sneak me more.”
My heart sinks. I hate having to do this. Talking to random men, no matter how drunk I am, puts me on edge. My friends call me ‘the cocktease’, because they think I’m using these men for the drugs, but won’t go any further. Everyone thinks I’m a virgin, saving herself for marriage. It’s an easy lie in this life.
They have no idea it’s because I’m petrified of being intimate with a man. That I’m tarnished. That I haven’t been touched by anyone since him.
And I’m not sure I ever will.
