At a certain time in our "exciting" lives. Parents, or guardians teach their children to swim. Regularly take us to the beach or pool. My first introduction to swimming was being thrown into a pool as my father watched me struggle.
I couldn't swim, and the holders I had. No one taught me how to flap my arms or legs. My fear of water is only progressing. Manipulation became easy, especially when everyone knew my biggest fear.
Dunking my head under the treacherous waters. Watching the bubbles fade until I lose sense of consciousness. No one cared, and any child my age learned that quite quickly.
When the pair of arms reached out to grab me. Hope wasn't as lost, hefty adrenaline pumping and coursing throughout. The surface engulfed me, filling my lungs with air. I coughed harshly gripping onto the ledge.
"Why didn't you swim up?!" Marco screams from behind me. I turned to look at his drenched body. God, if he didn't have the attitude of an old Nonna in a nursing home. Some part of me would consider that hot.
Tears embedding themselves in the corners of my eyes. Slowly fell down my cheeks. I ignored his sudden outburst. Trying to get out of the pool without slipping. James looked at me with an angered expression. I gave him a reassuring smile.
"Don't you dare fucking take another step away from me Aleah!" His words continued within his own little toddler tantrum. I stopped dead in my tracks turning around. "Watch me", I mouth not bothering to break the invisible barrier.
"Sir, I'll be taking Aleah home now". James interjects trying to scurry me off to his car. "Bring her into the basement, I want not another word from her". Marco says I stop once more whipping around. I felt like I had kicked the invisible barrier I hadn't tried to break before.
Like glass shattered anger festering in me. "Tu mi fai questo e io devo soffrire perché le tue emozioni non possono essere controllate. Vaffanculo!" The Italian words rolling off my tongue. I hastily broke the barrier, shocked that I had capability to do that.
I watched his battered expression change. James is now giving me massive warning looks. Defying the person that bathes, cleans, and feeds you is counted as a sin. That surely wasn't written in the bible but in the ways of the Mafia world it was.
"Che cazzo mi hai appena detto?!" His words were laced with venom. The more he spoke the scarier I watched him become. I hated that the most.
"Non ho balbettato, vero?" I bluntly spoke, watching the anger billow from his ears. "Get her out of here before I do something I'll regret". Marco climbs out of the pool looking at his drenched body. James places a hand on my back, guiding me back to the car.
"Verdammtes Arschloch" I mumble underneath my breath. I sat in James' car feeling the weight of my clothes drown me.
Quite literally, what felt like hours began to pass. In this forsaken basement, I sat in. The bare concrete walls concealing in cold air. I could see my breath and the cold aroma kept my body from reheating itself. Panic inducing through me.
I rocked back and forth crying into my knees. Searching for any sense of comfort. I would take it within a second. Even if it came from someone I hated. Anything to get out of this room. My body shut down, soft sobs echoing through the room.
Humming an old Italian tale to soothe myself. The familiar walls, reminding me of my father. A loud slam booming through the walls. I react by jumping from the loud noise. Marco's silhouette looked horrifying from a child's waking nightmare.
"Have you come to your senses?" His words are husky and deep. My eyes take in the shadowy figure. Words not daring to break loose. Tears stinging my eyes once more remembering the prick who once did this to me.
A demeaning experience, I felt like admitting defeat all over again. "What the fuck is your problem today?! Answer the question!". He shouts the whole room echoing, shaking me with fear. My hand covers the entirety of my mouth.
Keeping silent, holding sobs back, from escaping. My mind solely kept with the aching memory of my father. Waiting for him to beat me senselessly to remember why, what I did was wrong.
My hand violently shook, "Aleah" Marco warns more tears falling. If my life isn't taken at the hands of Marco Esposito, tonight. It would be a miracle. "Answer me".
A sinister part of him coming out to the light. He threatened me, I didn't dare to look up and face him. Loud thumping footsteps approaching closer and closer. Before grabbing an entire fistful of my hair. Yanking his hand back, my eyes forcing me to meet him. He watched tears escape and the sobs breaking from my lips.
Something in his eyes shifted. Marco let go of his anger induced grip. "What happened today?" His voice softened his hand, releasing the hold on my hair. The hand he used now used to cup my cheek.
"I don't know...I-...I'm sorry". I sniffled, wiping the stray tears away that fell. The pad of his thumb brushing away a stray tear. What is he doing? Why the sudden change of heart?
"La prossima volta, quando parliamo in italiano. Dovremmo essere piu' gentili." He spoke and I watched him look at me like we had known each other for years. "Non buttarmi di nuovo in una piscina. Allora sarò gentile." I respond, Marco scoffs, turning his head.
"Si, are you hungry?" He asks, my eyes staring back into his green ones. "Kind of", my reply sounding tired and hoarse. Marco stands up dusting himself off. His hands left my face and an emptiness fell over me, why? A hand darted in my direction; I grabbed it hesitantly gaining traction on my feet. His hand never left mine until we reached the kitchen.
The kitchen door opened with force. Slammed against the wooden paneled wall. Marco ignores the loud bang. He grabs one of the bar stools pushing it outward. Beckoning me to sit, I complied. Disobeying is ten times worse than anything I would have to endure.
I carefully watched his every move he made. Marco spent his time rummaging through cabinets and fridge. Coming out with his arms overloaded with ingredients. "When'd you learn to speak Italian?" He begins the questioning.
"Six years old, my father taught me". My voice sounded so exhausted and broken. Just thinking about the man was enough to leave goosebumps on my arms. The sound of sizzling filling the room as Marco dropped something in the pot.
"Italian isn't your first language". I almost chuckle to myself thinking about it. "No, about a year before I met my dad. I spoke strictly German before learning English, then Italian later on". I explain playing with the hem of the soggy robe. Focusing strictly on the granite counter.
I don't think about any part of me. Or anyone in this world would be able to understand Marco. Earlier he and I shared a kiss under the pretense of work. Which later was useless, then, proceeding to get thrown into a pool. Drowning off impact, then being saved by Marco.
Without my mind even being able to process what happened. I sat for many hours in a cold basement cell. If at any mention, just three days prior. Marco complained about not "having" his room back.
Then the next day refused when I said I would switch. Marco had completely switched his entire story. Claiming that he hadn't needed that room. That he "sorted" it out.
Now, here I sat waiting on Marco to make me a plate of dinner. In the same bathing suit and cover, trying to compose myself while Marco made food.
"How long were you with him?" He quizzes, I shoot myself out of a trance. "Six to twelve, my life has consisted of many homes since then." I explained, a normality for me. Definitely was different from others.
"Did he die?" Marco seemed way more chatty than normal. "Nope, unfortunately not" I mumble thinking about the last waking moments I had in that house. Living with a sick perverted asshole. Marco turns to face me, his green eyes boring into my brown ones. Trying to read how I felt.
Truthfully, talking about him made me feel like shit. "I assume he wasn't a good father?" My eyebrows knit together. My eyes adverting Marco's gaze. "Yeah", I whisper in a soft tone. At least somewhat as I hoped.
If my father and I were ever destined to cross paths once again. My body will fall right into his sick cat and mouse game. After all, I am Mariana Russo. Not Aleah Franco, at least to him. I would do anything possible to continue to keep my invisible barrier up.
"What is my father to you?" He asks, I smile chuckling softly. "He's more like those really cool sensei's that you see in the movies". I pause looking back up, my head tilting sideways, my arm supporting it.
"Like, I know I gained his respect for my loyalty. He is more like a best-friend". My words sparked more of an interest than I thought. "Glad, he treats someone with respect". A jab not directed towards me. But, for his father who had no judgment to defend himself. He's halfway into the European Sea at this point. Maybe, I should have kept my mouth shut.
Marco begins plating the food. He walked over to me, placing the plate down.
The pasta billowing steam, my mouth watering at the sight. He sits beside me beginning to eat his food. I lifted up my fork, shoveling the gooey goodness into my mouth. "How old were you when you were sent away?"
My fork hitting the plate, a solemn sigh reached the back of my throat. "My birth parents abandoned me from the start. They were young, so I don't blame them. The foster system got me at nine days old. At three months old I traveled on a plane. And was sold to the Addisons". I watched Marco's expression develop into something I hadn't seen before.
Sympathy, a heartwarming expression. Others love and embrace from members of their family. When a loved one has passed away. Now, I received it from someone who I sort of liked? In my own way?
The rest of the dinner however strung within a long silence. Not speaking a single word, yet the meal he gave me is one of the best things I've ever eaten. Marco is a very skilled chef, don't tell him I told you that. Marco's ego might shoot up a few notches if you do.
My body hitting my pillow, a relaxing sigh escaping. My hair wrapped in a towel; my face covered in a mask. Feeling the warm embrace of the darkness engulfing me.
Maybe Marco isn't so bad after all.
The warmer hand reached out towards me. "I love you", Angelo whispers "I don't want to leave. I just want Mateo back". I sob into my brother's chest. His hand rubbing circles onto my back.
"It's not safe here for you and Mateo. I'm sure you'll find him in no time". His brown eyes find mine. "I don't have the money", I tell Angelo his eyes soften. His hand was holding my cheek. "Remember what I said, go to the station. Ask for Angela, she can help you and Mateo get out". Angelo explains.
Turning and grabbing a neatly wrapped box. He hands it to me, with a smile that hides thousands of emotions. "Mariana, promise me okay. You will go far far away with him. Never look back. I'll see you again". He spoke my heart breaking more grabbing the small box.
I begin to open it, his hands stopping mine. "No, later we have to go". He spoke, I sighed taking in my room. The blank walls, the boring blue bed, a teddy bear with Mateo's name on it.
"If you ever see Mateo again. If I don't find him, tell him that I love him".
Angelo brushes stray hair from my face. "He loves you very much. You'll see him again." His hand grabbed my things. I walk over to my bed grabbing the bear. Holding it close, I was just a child. Who had no Idea what life had in store for me. "Run!" Angelo yells, holding back my – father in his drunken state. I grabbed my bag, running as fast as I could. "You mother fucker let me go!" My father grumbles drunkenly. I don't think I ever looked back.
My heart racing and my eyes finding the busy streets of New York. I opened the door hearing the doorbell ring. An elderly woman emerged from the back. "Welcome to –" She pauses slightly, her eyes looking into mine. "I'm Mariana, Angelo said you could help me and my uh brother".
She looked at me like she had seen a ghost. "I'm afraid that I can't help your brother. He was sold to a D1 auction, in Arizona".
My life flashing before my own eyes. Mateo's just a baby, no Angelo promised me. ...no...no...NO!
I clung onto my chest, tears rolling down my cheeks. I looked over at the other side of my bed. Staring at the bear, a caramel color. A blue footprint marking the bear's stomach. Reading, "Mateo Nino Russo, Born: January 9th, 2009". I heave out a heavy breath. Trying to compose myself.
My mind automatically goes to something else. Someone in the house yelled at the top of their lungs. Arguing with someone. I rubbed my eyes, taking the towel off my head and throwing the mask away. I put on my slippers, heading out the door.
Feeling a cold barrel make contact with my head on the way. I paused for a moment with a smirk winding up on my face. "Fuck, take me out to dinner first at least". I say turning to the man kicking the back of his knees.
Watching him fall to his knees. The wrinkly face looked distraught. I grabbed the loaded gun, cocking it back. His eyes hastily met mine. The barrel doubled down to the middle of his head. "When we meet in hell, let's have that little date again shall we?" I pulled the trigger, blood splattering everywhere. Watching the lifeless body before me slump to the ground.
I looked over the balcony, Marco continued to scream and shout at this man. Well, that would have been what I saw if the trigger wasn't pulled a few moments ago.
Marco and the man, growing quiet. Marco staring up at me, I waved cautiously. Both pairs of eyes follow the blood dripping off my cheek. "Did this bitch just kill one of my men?! You're fucking kidding me!" He scoffs, staring at me as If I just killed a beloved family member.
My body is fighting its own will to speak. I shrug, with a sinister smirk crossing my face. The sleeve of my hoodie wiping the bloodied contents off. My eyes looked at the dead man laid beside me.
"Is this your wife or something?" The man asks, throwing me a nasty glare. His ginger hair almost graying at the sight.
I waited patiently for Marco's elaborate answer. He seemingly became bothered with the other man's comment, "She's my father's bat shit crazy whore".
His words stunning me, it seemed as if the conversation we had hours prior meant nothing. I kept my mouth shut; not like I could say something anyway. "She's clearly got some good aim". The man with disheveled ginger hair spoke.
"Take her then", Marco said, taking a long drag from his cig. I bit my tongue to avoid confrontation. "I might just have to, especially since I'm one bodyguard down". The man's blue eyes staring into mine.
That's when my eyes finally found the coffee table. My mouth slightly agape, white lines with rolled up dollar bills. My body shifted slightly, itching for what was on the table. I swallowed slightly, fighting the urge.
I turned around, going back into my room. "I didn't dismiss you Aleah. Come down here". Marco commands, I stop turning around heading down the stairs. I stood in front of the men; I watched his emerald eyes look up and down my body.
"Strip", my eyes doubling in size. The guy beside him looked shocked. I watched the bulge in his pants shift. Pervert, "I don't like to ask things twice". Marco states, I could do this simple job right? This wasn't the first time I've ever had to strip.
I reach for the hem of my pants, taking them off with ease. For only a moment to pass and the cold air piercing my naked body. "And she takes care of herself. Wow", the ginger disgusted me. More than anything I wanted to go back to my room. Marco became a perverted science professor. Hatred striking my eyes, along with tears. I looked down, closing my eyes.
Words could never describe how demeaning and hurtful this feels.
"Marc- What the fuck are you two doing?!" James stepped in yelling loudly. Catching the attention of both Marco and the man beside him. More tears fell, feeling truly embarrassed.
"Making her strip in front of guests?!" He stresses heading right over to me. Grabbing the nearest throw blanket. Wrapping it around me covering everything that was once all out on display. Marco walks behind me shoving James. "You don't get a say anymore". His voice lowered itself, sounding angry and ready to pounce on him.
"Just remember who put you on this pedestal Marco". James bumps into Marco's shoulder taking a hold of my hand.
James walked me up the stairs out of view. My cheeks stained with tears. Feeling humiliated, so fucking humiliated. "I'm sorry I didn't come soon enough". He tried to comfort me, his words couldn't have helped anymore than someone who just passed by.
If anything it made me feel ten times worse. My hand reached for the door knob. I gave a defeated smile towards James. Disappearing behind the door. I walk into the bathroom, locking the door. Slumping down on the cold floor. When you think things couldn't get any worse it hits you like a freight train and never leaves. It's all for Mateo, Aleah think about it.
The next morning, my legs crossed and laid on the railing of the balcony. My eyes closed to gain my composure. You really couldn't when you had someone capable of doing anything he desired a few rooms over. That's when I felt his sudden presence behind me. My eyes stayed closed. "Is this anyway to greet your boss?" He asks, I open my eyes turning towards him. Our eyes met.
"Sorry sir, should I have greeted you with my clothes off this time?" I ask sarcastically, Marco looks at me scoffing loudly. Raising his hand as if he was going to hit me. I didn't flinch, I made direct eye contact with him.
Marco looked down at me, licking his lips and scoffing. "Whatever you want me to do. I will do it ten times over. But, what you did last night was fucked up. Maybe in your next life someone will put you through what I had to do for the last few nights". I bluntly say waiting for his hand to collide with my face. He retracts his hand, staring at me. "I don't care what you went through. It's good that I embarrassed you, seems to me like you needed to truly learn how to behave". He snaps back at me, my eyebrows knitting themselves together.
"People make mistakes Marco. Or maybe do you need another line of coke to understand that?" I ask standing up pushing past Marco. My hand was grabbed and yanked by Marco. It made me turn around pulling out my gun from my waist band.
He had the same idea, Marco was always one step ahead. Especially now, that's when the gun fired and my life changed for the worse.