That little girl in me is crying out for help. Her eyes welled with tears, the way she slammed on the metal door. Screaming for help, hearing her father who leaned against the door chant at her. "Bad things happen to bad girls, Mariana" He taunts, the tears pooling down. Snot, covering the lower portion of my face.
No, this isn't real. I'll wake up right? Please...let me wake up...please?...
That same little girl watched from a distance, the horror coursing through my veins. My heart thumping through my chest. Kill me, I'd rather be killed. Someone have a weapon at this banquet please.
A poke in my side blanked me out of my thoughts. Still staring at my father. "Aleah Franco, nice to meet you". I humor, adding a smile. "You're Italian? There's no way that we haven't seen each other before".
His accent fluctuated, his hand breaking contact from mine. "I'm sure we must have. I might have been a lot younger though". I respond, taking a dig at him unknowingly. "Dad, Mr. Marino's here". I noticed the taller one spoke.
Angelo, you sly fox. "I'll greet them in a moment. For now, I'd like to get to know Aleah". He turns back towards me. "You must be from Italy then right?" He questions, those blue eyes haunting me by the second.
"My family is, I grew up in Germany". Alonzo's eyebrow raised, a surprising expression faltering over his face. "Du sprichst deutsch?" When did my father take the time to learn German?
"Ich bin in Deutschland aufgewachsen, wie könnte ich kein Deutsch sprechen?" I counter, he scoffs slightly, turning his head away from me. "Touche," for us this became more of a contest. One that no one ever really wants to play.
"You know, my daughter's middle name is Aleah. Might not be spelt the same way. But, she is a good kid. I imagine you must be a good kid too". A knife blading and twisting through my heart. You still know all the right buttons to press. Don't you Alonzo.
Angelo eyes me concerningly. "She's really good, shit probably the best on the team Mr. Russo. My father picked a good one". Marco steps in, his arm going around my shoulders. He pulled me in closer.
Alonzo, perks up that sinister smile appearing. "I always knew Mario had it in him. After all, he has good eyes for things that aren't his". He seethes, still keeping that smile on his face.
"Ah, Mr. Russo! Spero che tu stia bene!" Saved by the bell, "Mr. Marino, in the flesh, assolutamente sì!" My father took one last look at me.
"I have to attend to other things. It is very good to meet you Aleah." His tone lowers, I smirk at him. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Russo". He nods, walking away and taking the younger boy with him.
Angelo looks at me for a moment. "It's good to see you again. You look happier". My older brother comments. I could feel tears strike my eyes. "It's good to see you too. Old age is hitting you well". I respond, Angelo follows with a chuckle – showing his signature smile.
"You know each other?" Marco questions, I look up at him. "Yeah, It's been a really long time since I've seen him". I kept it short, my relation to Angelo should be kept private. At least for now.
"I have to walk away here. So he doesn't get suspicious of us. Good to see you". Angelo says not waiting for another word before he scurried off to our father. That's when I broke. My face turning glum, I started walking back to the table.
Ayden glanced up with a quick smile once she saw me. Then turning into a frown when she noticed my current state. "What the fuck happened?" She sits up, Marco looks down at me just noticing how I felt.
I stayed silent, looking at the floor. "Leah, what happened?" Ayden goes for a softer approach. Nothing managed to slip past my lips. "Marco?" She questions, Marco breaks out into a shrug.
"We greeted an elder, he had some sick infatuation with Aleah. Fucking creepy". Marco blurts out, Ayden's face going pale. "What elder?" A haunting fearful element in her voice scared me.
"The Russo's" Ayden stands up looking at me before bringing me in for a hug. "Shit", she holds me close. "What the hell is going on?" Marco wanted to be clued in.
"That's for Aleah to tell you. I think we should take her home. She won't be functioning for the rest of tonight". Ayden rambles off into a rant. I broke the embrace we were in. "You stay in my presence. I'll take Aleah home". Marco interjects, Ayden looked torn.
"Uh, sure," Ayden murmurs out. Yet, there I stood dissociating from reality. Replaying every sick memory from my childhood. A hand grabbing mine, without my knowledge faint chatters continued. While Marco whisked me out of there.
The moment I entered the Villa doors. A herd of maids, and butlers came rushing through. "Welcome back Miss!" I nodded, giving them a solemn smile. All of them greeting me at once? Marco looked at them snobbishly.
My mind was too battered with emotions and thoughts. I couldn't bother to care. I walked off pushing past everyone. Heading right up to the bathroom. My hands pasted on either side of the vanity.
Everything went wrong today, seeing my father for the first time in a decade. To Marco and I swapping saliva, just to take a jab at Danielle. I wanted nothing more than a sledge hammer to knock me out.
My life was spent in shambles and fear for years. Hell, I lost everything – even losing my sanity when becoming a sex worker for the majority of my life. A weapon used for others pleasure and enjoyment.
I contemplated everything. My life, my safety, and more importantly my sanity. Nothing could be left unsaid. Especially coming from my battered mind. My body is frozen in its own time capsule.
Tuning out the small noises of others roaming the halls. Or Marco calling my name. What would I do? Change my name again, move to California, run away from this life? Alonzo knows, he had to have known. A father knows his daughter more than anyone.
Mariana is somebody I wanted to keep hidden to the close eye for a longer time than most. After tonight, it felt like I needed to dig up a grave that's been left untouched. One, that nobody was meant to see. Mariana, frail, broken little girl – who wanted a safe haven.
I couldn't shield her anymore. The trunk being pried open the fear slowly eating me alive. Like a predator cautiously waiting for something to happen. So they could wait for the prey to make the wrong move.
I made the worst decision anyone could make.
Mariana was running, just like that night. Running afraid of the tall figure chasing her. While tears found her face, screaming at the top of her lungs. Desperately needing to be heard. Until the concrete wall slapped her cold back. Stopping her from going further.
That barrier is what I'm doing. Someone could have followed us. Cornered us into a wall. I thought somehow, I could avoid this. Running from my father, internally screaming in my head. Tears finding my face and my body driven into survival mode.
Any clashing between time frames is my death. Marco or Alonzo, maybe it's better to off myself instead. Save both from the pleasure of them looking at me struggle. Blood poured out of my mouth, face swollen and bruised. Dried tears on either cheek.
Dying is something you prepare for like a fucking school play. Rehearsing my lines, knowing if it happens. I won't struggle, and I sure as shit will get that fucking lead role in that play.
Tired, afraid, hopeless. God three action words to describe how just peachy keen I felt. I stared at myself in the mirror. Marco behind me, staring at my broken features.
My eyes no longer spark a flair. My makeup turned into streaky blobs. Did I just spend the last few hours in a horror film? "Aleah", Marco coos, his tone softening.
Don't pity me, don't fucking do that. You are such a piece of shit. Don't fucking pity me.
"I'll run you a bath, come on". Marco – baby talking to me in a way that I couldn't tell if it is comforting or disgusting.
I shook my head, Marco walked towards me. Grabbing a washcloth, turning on the faucet. Letting the water run over it. He pities me, is this what it took? My father scaring me, that's all it took? Marco wrings the cloth out over the sink. Before handing it over to me.
I take it from him, wiping my face. Taking off all of the smudged makeup. "Go get changed and go to bed. I have shit to take care of."
His tone of voice changed. Once soft and sweet, the next it turned cold and hurtful. Marco leaves me alone.
It wasn't the smartest Idea. Leaving someone in a panic state. One that wanted nothing more than to drown herself in the bath.
Maybe it's a good thing. No satisfaction from the ones who hunt for you. Leaving them hopeless, angry, with only themselves to blame.
This is what you wanted, right father? Me to sit and almost kill the rest of my night just to fuck with me. You love watching me suffer, one of these days let's watch you suffer instead.
The next morning bringing unpleasant memories, my eyes following the grey hues darkening a bright sky.
Three things my father liked a little more than himself. Tools, minds and basements. Manipulation was something he thrived to master. If he drove himself to a vantage point in someone's mind. He would run wild, his hands in the air screaming for his victory.
He must be doing a victory lap now. I continued into my silence. The tea mug – held in my hand. I stared at the waves crash. Ayden tried checking up on me. I loved her so much and I am so grateful for her.
But, I don't know how much further I can handle the questions. Being bombarded by everyone after I left the event in my room last night. For only Ayden to barge in begging for an explanation in such minuscule detail.
"You can't ignore us forever, Leah". Ayden spoke, I sipped on my tea not acknowledging her. I could and would, I needed just five minutes alone. Even when going to bed Ayden slept next to me. Trying to avoid me from harming myself or relapsing.
"You still can't get her to budge?" Another voice speaks, my eyes fixated on the sand. "Does it look like it?" Ayden snaps, sighing, I could practically see the way she pinched the bridge of her nose.
Shoes clanking off the deck. Stormed towards me, My arm being grabbed with force, Marco whipping me around. The mug flying out of my hands, burning parts of my arm and fingers.
The mug dropped down, crashing and slamming with a loud thud. "Marco don't", Ayden warns. I froze in my spot, shaking under his touch. Erratic breaths pushing through my nose. I avoided eye contact and any aggravation triggers.
Well, I couldn't exactly avoid myself in this situation. Nor Marco, his hands now grasping either side of my face. Contorting it up to look at him. "The fuck is your problem?!" He screams in my face.
Tears, wallowing and forming in my eyes. You...that's my fucking problem. I stayed silent, feeling the pain of the hot tea on me. "Who are the Russo's to you? Huh? Fucking tell me". He waits for an answer.
Like anyone in my condition could answer. "Aleah", he taunts.
"I swear to god sometimes I just want to fucking kill you". He scolds, I finally looked up at him. Meeting his eye level, "do it", I whisper with a sad smile. The first time I've talked in a while and the first thing I say is a taunt for Marco to kill me.
"Who are the Russo's to you?" He asks, I shrug my shoulders. Ayden glanced at either of us trying to decide what to do. The grip on my face tightens. "I like answers in word form Aleah". He continues.
"No", I pull a one liner out. I watched the shift in Marco's gaze. One that I've never personally seen myself. His grip releases on my face. Going right back towards my arm. Grasping my right arm, dragging me off and away from Ayden.
"Marco, stop" Ayden begins, Marco turns and stops us both. "I'll fucking kill you myself if you follow me". He warns Ayden, continuing to drag me off.
His office door slammed open, "Sit". He commands, pushing me into the direction of the chairs. I thought the New York main office was cool. Italy's main office brought a fear factor. You knew someone meant business if they brought you here.
A darker gray painting over the room. One small light dimmed the entire room. The desk is clearly custom made. The oak, carved with various designs. I sat down, my eyes not daring to meet Marco's.
Silence, one thing I loathed more than anything. It's good for many things. Only likable if it's become a needed silence. This silence couldn't cure what Marco is going to do to me. His hand slams down on the desk. The loud thud, causing me to jump.
"Who are the Russo's to you? Are you fucking ratting us out to them?!" He roars, rupturing into this downward spiral.
I whip up to look at him, "excuse me?" I spoke with my eyebrows furrowing together. "Are you ratting us out to them?" Marco asks, leaning towards me. "Yeah, Marco, I'll go right ahead and spill your entire life's secrets. To the people I barely know?"
I retort with my nose scrunching in anger. "You said you knew Angelo". He claims, of course I do. He's my brother jackass.
"I met him a few times over the years. I don't know him like we're buddies. I know him as an acquaintance". I lie through my teeth.
"I have to get back before he notices. Aleah, I'm not fucking stupid". He spits, the anger coursing through him clarified that he wanted me to pry more than I could ever do.
"You said it not me, come on. You and I both know that Alonzo guy is a fucking creep. The disgusting glare he had on me. He might want to buy me off you. Angelo was only being cautious". I reply, Marco's hand grabs my face.
"Aleah" he warns, his grip increasingly growing tighter. "Don't lie to me", he follows. I smirk at him. "You sound delusional, I work for you. There is no reason to lie". Am I turning into my father?
My father loved lying, growing off it. Manipulating others off those lies. Now, here I sat lying to my boss. My past is mine and only mine. Others may have taken part in it. But, Mariana's life is closed and kept tucked away deep inside a pandora's box.
Mateo, Angelo, Alonzo all taking crucial and core parts in my life. "If I find out you lied to me –". I cut him off, "Then kill me". His face contorts into an expression. I couldn't put my finger on it.
"Okay", his voice lowers into a whisper. He lets go of my face, stepping back. "I don't want to be your scapegoat either". I mention confusion taking over him. "I don't think I'm following", Marco sits in the large leather chair.
"Your rules stated the day you started: That we had no romantic relations. I agreed, within the past few weeks we've had a few romantic encounters". I turn all business on him. He smirks, sitting back in his chair.
"That's what you're worried about?" He asks, I shake my head quickly. "No, I'm just saying whatever happened last night. Cannot happen again". I stand my own ground. Still watching that smirk holding itself in place.
"Are you jealous of what me and Danielle have?" He quizzes, both hands crossing over his muscular chest. "I've seduced thousands of men in my life. But, somehow you think you're special? Please get a grip". I roll my eyes standing up.
I turn to leave his office, my hand gripping the door knob. "I give it a month or two, maybe three weeks if I'm feeling frisky. I'll have you wrapped around my finger." Marco's cocky attitude wasn't going to get us anywhere.
"Really? I'd say the same thing about you Mr. Esposito". I add with a daunting smirk. "Is that so?" He questions, sitting forward.
The muscles bulging out from his button up. "Absolutely, anyone would know that, by the way you are so bothered by everything I do". I pause, glaring at him.
"Your favorite thing about me is my face. You love grabbing it, squeezing it. I can take a photo of my face and print it if you'd like. So you could squeeze it extra hard. When you're thinking of me". I wink, my hand touching my lips delicately. Blowing a kiss in his direction.
I watched the veins pop from his forehead. Watching him get angry is pure satisfaction to me. "Now, I'm going to go outside. You are probably going to jack off, thinking about how hard I've just gotten you. Then you'll come join us".
The sound of the desk chair hitting the wall echoed through the room. Marco stood up, stalking slowly towards me. "What, do you want me to do it for you? Only good boys get what they want".
If there is a god out there, I think I'll need saving. My back hits the door, Marco's hands gripping either side of my shoulders. "Aleah", here he starts with the warnings. "Marco", I called back.
Capturing every detail on his angered face. His nose flared, the green eyes he owned completely glossed over, and red. A spec of white powder on the edge of his nose. "You're high", I comment. I didn't know how I hadn't noticed it earlier. His high was obvious.
His tongue poked the inner line of his cheek. "Well, detective, how could you figure that out?" Marco presses the question.
"You like hurting people when you're fucked up. The power you get from the coke, also the way you grip onto me. Like you're ready to fucking kill me. There's something in the way you do it." I lower my voice watching him just look blankly at me.
His glossy eyes held so much anger and resentment. "Or, it's the fact that you don't know how to wipe your nose properly". Marco released the grip he had on my shoulders. His hand swipes over his nose.
The substance coated a small portion of his white button up. "Did you like hurting people when you did it?" Marco looks down avoiding all contact.
"I killed for it".
I chuckled, "I would have done anything for a lick. But, you hurt to feel. With all the coke I've personally seen and assume you consume. You can't find anything strong enough to stop your pain." I whisper, he looks up.
"Do I pay you to assume, Miss. Franco?" His questioning manner angered me.
"No, you pay to abuse and humiliate me, Mr. Esposito". I add with a happy smile. The smile wiping itself clean off my face. Seeing his hand raise, colliding with my cheek. The stinging and aching pain hitting me.
His hand grips my hair pulling my head back. I gasp, "That is right, and I'll enjoy every fucking second I get to ruin you". Marco releases his grip. A monster unleashing itself. I watched every petal unravel before me.
The way his nose scrunched angrily, his eyebrows peering up and pushing into each other. I clutched my cheek, staring at him idly. "You just proved my point". I scoff, adding a defeated smile.
Marco, you don't know how to appreciate the things you own. My hand reaches for the knob, not wasting another second of his 'precious time'. My tennis shoes thump with each step, my fingers tracing lines over the burns.
Wincing each time, I crossed over the meshed skin. The short haired girl standing before me. Her eyes followed down to my wrist. "Mariana, you can't continue to do this to yourself". Her hushed tone and the tears forming in her eyes.
"I've done this all my life, I won't make it past the border alive, if I'm alone". I look at the taller girl before me. The necklace she owned shined in the sunlight. "Do you think it's worth demeaning yourself for others pleasure?" Her eyes following past now narrowing towards the front door.
"I'm not built for pleasure; I serve and protect the people who have paid money for me." I follow the burn marks on my arms almost in a pattern like style. "For someone who just poured fucking hot tea all over you. Mariana are you insane?!" Her whisper yells began to drown out. White noise filling her once loud tone.
Closing the gap between the front door and us, watching it swing open revealing a large figure and my body froze.
Business wasn't so easy after all.