There would be many words to describe Roman Cecilio, but one would be: malicious. Don of the Italian Mafia with no remorse, but what happens when he meets a woman and her daughter?
Jasmine Torres shelters her daughter from any and all harm, hiding...
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6 years ago... "Take me with you!" The nine year old boy cries, clinging onto my shirt.
"I can't, Luis." I tell him before crouching down in front of him, grabbing his cheeks in one hand. "You are better off here, I can't put you through this. I don't even know where I'm going." I tell him, desperately trying to make him understand.
"You will have power and food and clothes on your back. I don't know if we are going to even survive but I promise I will come back for you the moment I can." I tell him, watching as he tries to get out of my hold.
"Than why leave? You have power, food, and clothes here! If you don't think you're going to survive, why leave?" He shouts.
'Because we won't survive here' is what I wanted to tell him but I couldn't.
"You'll understand one day. You are safe here. Has Alejandro ever put his hands on you?" I ask, noticing Ansley staring to wake up soon she'll be crying and then I'll lose our chances of leaving.
"No, but he ignores me all the time!" Luis exclaims.
"I know, I know. You think it's bad but it's a good thing. Stay out of his way, Loo. I'll come back for you." I tell him, brushing my hands over his curly hair before kissing his forehead.
"Go to bed and remember that I love you, always remember that."
My eyes shoot open and I sit up, leaving Roman's grip and rushing to put on clothes.
Luis? Please be Luis.
Luis was three when I first met him. Alejandro got some girl pregnant and she had Luis, leaving him at Alejandro's gate before disappearing.
Alejandro wasn't fit to be a father, he never hurt Luis instead he treated him as if he didn't exist but with a monster like him roaming around, I was grateful that's all he did to Luis.
I became a somewhat mother to him. At the age of nine years old I was taking care of a three year old. I did the best I could when I was younger. I was scared and hurting and so young but I tried. I would feed him and bathe him whenever I could and even when I couldn't I still tried. The times I never woke up or was so injured to the point I couldn't move, nobody would take care of him. He wouldn't eat or get taken care of.
I left when he was nine and Ansley was just born. I knew that I taught him well enough to make sure he knows how to at least make a couple easy meals and how to bathe and take care of himself before I left.
