"She was far from an angel."
Ilaria D'Angeli has never had a normal life. Kidnapped by her father mere months after her birth, she has no idea that she's secretly the lost princess of the Italian mafia. After a series of unfortunate events, she beca...
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tw: abuse, please skip to the end of the italics if you'll be triggered by it
"ILARIA! GET ME A BEER!" Sergio yelled, and I could almost smell the alcohol on his breath from the other side of the apartment. I always hated being in the place I was forced to call 'home'. The apartment was dingy and reeked of Budweiser and cigarettes, and the broken air conditioning did little to protect me from the hot July nights in Chicago. For me, summer break was always something to dread, not to look forward to. At least at my school we had working air conditioning and consistent lunches, and I had a short escape from my life for eight hours a day.
I stood there, frozen, knowing that I couldn't ignore him or he'd just get angrier. Slowly I crept out of my room to make sure the coast was clear when I heard the voice that sent eerie chills down my spine.
"The fuck are you waiting for? Get me a fucking beer," Sergio spit maliciously, and I bolted to the kitchen. Judging by the two empty beer boxes beside him as well as the almost-gone bottle of whiskey on the ground, he was definitely more than just a little tipsy.
Sometimes I wondered what Deja would think if she knew the truth about Sergio. She had gathered that Sergio and I had a shitty relationship, but she had no idea of the extent of it — and I planned to keep it that way. She had enough problems to deal with herself, and I didn't need to become another one of them. I'd deal with it on my own, like I always did. I opened the fridge to find a Budweiser but didn't see any, which was weird considering that usually alcohol was all the fridge was filled with.
I opened the bottom drawer when my heart dropping all the way to my gut. No alcohol in sight.
Shit shit shit. I searched through the drawers like my life depended on it, praying that I just didn't see it at first and that I just missed one that was in the very back. But no, of course not. I must have been a serial killer or something in my past life because to my shitty luck, we were all out of it.
Fuck my life. All the bones in my body knew what was coming, the bruises on my ribcage and back could attest to it.
I couldn't run for it, the only way out of the apartment would be to go through the living room where he was. He was probably too drunk to chase after me, but even if I got out it's not like I would have anywhere to go.
"Ilaria! Get your ass back here!" Sergio shouted drunkenly.
My body tensed and froze in place, yet my heart was beating a million times an hour. Slowly, I forced my legs to walk back into the living room. I tried convincing myself that everything would be fine. He would understand, he'd get it. He's still my father, he's still a good person deep down... right?
