Beyond words

Scary stranger.

The doorbell rang signaling yet another guests arrival. Iris's father yells at her to get the door as he takes another swig of his cheap brandy.

Her 5'3 frame hurries to the door and swings it open. A group of men rush in, not paying any attention to her.

"Sure come in." She sarcastically mutters to herself. Her father greets the guests with an obnoxiously loud voice that no one seems to mind except for her. Maybe it's the fact that she hears it all day everyday or maybe it's because the only way he talks to her is if he is yelling at her or telling her to do something.

Iris shuts the door, not wanting to let more of the cold air in. Her eyes sweep the room, 18 men sit in various places smoking and drinking. Breathing gets harder as smoke clouds the room and the strong smell of sweat and alcohol surrounds her.

Not knowing what to do, she heads to the only safe place she has ever known. Her room. The walls are painted a light pastel purple, her bed has a big white comforter on it with light purple pillows. Her favorite and only stuffie, Honey (a bee) , sits in the middle. The room isn't much, but it works.

Iris's father, Vincent owns a small gang. Although he promises that one day he will be a Mafia boss, she knows it's not true. Her father dosent have enough determination, leadership skills, and quite frankly, the balls to do it. Vincent has always been a filthy man. Very far from a role model. The only things he has ever cared about were his bottles of brandy and his recliner.

Once upon a time, they were a family. Vincent, Iris's mom (Gloria), and her. They even had a dog! They were never a good family, a dysfunctional and messed up one at best. But a family nevertheless. When Iris was 12, her mother died giving birth to her son. Who died as well.

Devastated, Vincent threw himself into drinking and gambling. He created a joke of a gang and sold drugs on the streets. Iris never saw him until he needed her for something. Eventually, she learned to block it out. Her mother wouldn't want her to get wrapped up in a gang, so Iris wouldn't. She would go to school and she would have a job just like every normal teen. When she finished school, she took a job as a waitress and has worked at the small 24 hour diner down the road since then.

Iris hums to no song in particular as she gets ready. She brushes her choclate brown hair that flows in light waves down to her mid back into a simple ponytail and puts a little bit of mascara on, making her grey eyes stand out. When she finishes, she grabs her phone and makes her way to the window. No way would she go back downstairs. Her dad would tell her to make food or serve drinks. As she climbs down, the cold air chills her to the bones.

The walk there didn't take long, Her house sat on a main road. She had gotten used to the sound of the cars and motorcycles going by everyday and night.

When she steps in, the little bell dings above her. The smell of greasy fries and burgers invades her senses. Her boss and a few other coworkers wave their greetings and Iris smiled back. She has never been much of a social girl, she likes to put in her earbuds and color with colored pencils. At home, she has 42 finished coloring books. She walks into the changing room and puts her purse into her locker and takes her uniform out.

Her uniform is a simple knee length robin's blue dress with a simple white colar and a apron. She pins her name tag on the left side of the apron and walks out of the room.

The little bell dings on the other side of the restraunt where the entrance is. Iris looks to her boss and says, "I'll sit them on my side?" The boss nods and says, "Your working from now to eleven right?" Iris's eyebrows knit together at the thought of her schedule. "I think so Mrs. Gwen."

Her boss smiles and continues to sweep and sway to the music playing on the radio. Iris makes her way over to the group if people and sits them down, taking their orders. They weren't very friendly, but she has had worse.