Mafia princess

Chapter 89: And i loved the stars

Although I know he was ecstatic to gain this role, I knew the circumstances in which it came under would not have satisfied him.
The air was bitter-sweet. Just a little more bitter than usual.

I stared at the family heirloom on my finger as our memories begin to rush back to me. I'd do anything to feel that level of alive again.

Minus the fact that I got put in a coma the day I received this ring.
Very alive of you Sienna!

I felt the need to divert my attention away from it as every second that went by was another trying to reel me into a darkness that I am incapable of escaping.

My guess is the sight of this minuscule ring was enough to drive my mind to an untamed level as I felt his hand grip mine tighter reassuring my every action.
"Everything will be fine."

I don't know how he said those words with so much confidence but if anything, he had my trust and I had no other option but to believe him.

Dread overcame me when the meal alas came to an end. Though the stillness of us was unnatural, we didn't want to go anywhere, if anything I think we desired to live in this moment forever.

If there were ever a moment in which I could pause time it would be right now. I'd breathe the same air a million times as long as it meant I could do it with him. My father.

But time was never our friend.

Watching as one by one, the table grew deserted and I was left alone. I couldn't bring myself to leave perhaps this is the only control I have over time.
Perhaps if I stay here life would move slower.

Stripping myself of the ring on my finger, my fathers ring. I place it on the table in front of me and stare. Simply keeping my eyes plastered on the beautiful pile of heap.
Why must it be like this?
We're the Mafia, all we know is survival.

I felt my sinuses tighten and I knew the urge to cry was there. There will always be an urge to cry at the thought of my father: I don't think it will ever become the normal.

"You're thinking too hard." Escobar interrupts me.
How can I do anything but think?

My words fumble in my brain leaving me nothing but the ability to look up with broken eyes.
Why is my pain hurting him more than his own?

"Follow me." He demands saying nothing else yet exiting the room.

Now isn't the time to ply follow the leader El Chapo.

...

"I could've drove." I tell my father who is speeding down the highway.

"I'm not an incapable infant Sienna. Don't treat me like one." He aggressively warns me.

He was right.
I was just frightened.

"Where are we going?" I ask him in attempt to divert the subject.

"You've never been to the lake house. I ought to take you for your first time!" He smiles his attention more on the road.

And his last.

I had heard stories about that place a multitude of times so much so that I am convinced I'm officially traumatised.
If I were younger I highly doubt that I would be safe in that hell with my brothers.