Her Mafia Brothers

My door is gone!

By the time Jack lets me go, neither Rocco nor my door are anywhere in sight.

While I did enjoy being with Jack, and snuggling with him, I'm really, really mad that my stupid brother has taken my door. I'm the only girl in a houseful of boys! I need a door! And it wasn't like I damaged the door with my slamming, so I don't even know why Rocco took it, really. Probably, he's just being an asshole.

Now that I don't have a door, I don't know what to do with myself. I mean, I didn't know what to do with myself before, that's why I was slamming my door. But now I really don't know what to do with myself. That restless, lost feeling rises up inside me once more, threatening to overwhelm me. I don't care how busy my brothers are. I don't care that Jack has promised that it will all be over soon. I want my life to go back to normal and I want it to happen now. I hate this. I hate doing my schoolwork online, not being able to see my friends. I hate that my friends are all grounded, so even though I have my phone, I still can't talk to them because they don't have theirs. I hate that Logan sits in his room in the dark all day, listening to loud music. I hate everything! I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate it all.

Even though there are so many things for me to do here, and even though there is all the food I want to eat, a whole library of books to read and movies to watch and games to play, I don't want any of it. I don't want to do anything, I don't want to eat. I just want my life to go back to normal. I hate the Mafia. I hate that my brothers are a part of it. I hate that it means I can't have a life.

Anger, frustration, sadness and fury wells up inside me and I scream at the top of my lungs before launching myself at my boxing bag. For ages I stand there, attacking it, punching it, kicking it. I use all the techniques Nick taught me, and some I made up all by myself, to let out my emotions. My pent-up anger all comes out furiously, and I focus everything I have at the boxing bag. It swings quite a bit - testament to how hard I'm hitting it - and I keep on going until I have nothing left. Until I lie spent, exhausted, on the floor beneath it, watching it sway above my head. I'm still furious and frustrated, but now I'm too knackered to do anything about it.

All I can do is cry. So that's what I do.

For ages, I lie there on my bedroom floor, my face buried in the carpet, my hands clenched into tight fists at my side, curled up into the fetal position as I cry and cry. My shoulders shake with sobs, my whole body trembles. My legs are too weak to hold me up so I just lay there, sobbing and broken.

I don't even know how long I lie there for. It feels like hours. Silently, but screaming in my head, I beg for someone to keep. For Logan to come in. Nick. Rocco. Jack. I beg for Damon and Alex to come home. I beg for some semblance of normality. But nothing happens. Nobody comes. My brothers carry on doing whatever it is they're doing without me. I stay alone in my door-less bedroom.

Nobody cares about me. Deep inside me, I know that's not true. But I'm so miserable right now that I've got myself fully convinced that they don't care, that I'm just a burden. My heart and lungs burn with the pain of the belief that I'm unloved and unwanted. Just like I've felt for years; or had until I came here, anyway. Since I've been with my brothers I've felt completely loved and cared for, but now they're not here. They're not here and I need them. The longer I lie there on the floor, the more I convince myself that they don't want me anymore.

They're not here. Therefore, they don't care.

They don't care. They don't want me. I'm worthless.

The voices repeat themselves over and over in my head, on one long, cruel, continuous loop. They echo, pounding against my brain, getting louder and louder.

It's not true! Of course they love you! The sensible part of me argues, but the distraught part pushes it away. If they cared, they'd be here, I tell myself. If they cared, I'd still have a door. If they cared, I wouldn't be all alone. If they cared, I wouldn't be curled up in a ball on my bedroom floor, sobbing brokenly, my tears making a puddle on the carpet, my body racked with sobs, shaking so hard I can't even get up.

They don't care.

They don't care.

They never did.

I know that last part is a lie, but at the same time, it doesn't matter. Nothing does. Whether or not my brothers once loved me or once cared is irrelevant. They're not here right now. They don't care anymore. I'm all alone and desperate, and they don't care.

I don't want to be here anymore. I hate it. And there's no point, anyway. There's nothing for me to do, nobody wants me, nobody is going to miss me if I'm not around. There's nothing to be gained by staying here.

I need to see my friends. I need to be with people who care about me.

My mind made up, I walk downstairs. I don't even walk quietly, I stomp down angrily, testing the waters, to see if anyone cares enough to stop me. To see if they're listening, if they can hear me. I go straight to the front door. Nobody calls out, nobody appears nearby, asking what I'm doing. Further proof that they don't care.

I open the front door, step out, shut the door, standing there on the porch for a few seconds, just waiting.

Nobody comes.

Nobody tries to stop me.

Nobody cares.

Dejectedly, I trudge along the path, to the gate at the side. I will have been spotted on the cameras by now; my brothers should know where I am, where I'm going. But still, nobody comes.

I get to the side gate and wait for a second, just to see. I'm leaving - deliberately disobeying Damon's orders - there are cameras everywhere - yet nobody is stopping me. Nobody is coming. Nobody is preventing me from leaving.

Further proof that nobody cares.

My brothers suck. Every single one of them can go to hell.

I open the side gate and step out. Freedom! I have freedom! I wave my arms above my head, tip my head back, spin around. Sucking in the fresh taste of freedom.

Still nobody comes. Not my brothers, not Paul. Stuff the lot of them. Paul can go to hell too, I hate him as well.

Slowly, I walk down the sidewalk. I don't really have a destination in mind, I just know that I have to get away. I'd like to see my friends, if I can. But if I can't... maybe a walk will help.

Suddenly, before I have time to react, a black van stops beside me, driving up onto the sidewalk to cut me off. I want to scream, to run. But I don't have the time. The door of the van slides open and four men jump out. They grab me. I open my mouth to scream, I kick, punch, fight, just the way Nick taught me.

And then everything goes black.