Desolate

Chapter 3

Mirabella's POV

I don't know what to feel. I've managed to escape my mother's grasp but seeing my dad and brother in front of me makes me feel hope. This feeling is foreign, and it scares me, what if they're like them, or worse? I can't live with six attackers, I barely survived with two. I do see why my mom said I looked like my father because I swear he shit me out. I always thought I didn't share any similarities with my mother but seeing my father it all but proves that. The only thing my mother gave me was perpetual trauma.
  

"Let's head to the airport, I'd like for you to meet the rest of your siblings. They've missed you, bambina." My father drops a kiss on my forehead, and I flinch. I don't know if they noticed, all I know is that I was already messing this up for myself. They definitely didn't want a broken girl like me as their daughter or sister.

Angelo was looking at me questionably, I know he saw me flinch. Great, now they're going to be paying closer attention to me, hiding this is probably going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. I met his eye and he smiled gently at me. I think I like having an older sibling, I hope the others are like him. I know I might be trusting too soon, but I crave to be wanted, to be loved, to have a family. Maybe this can be my second chance. I want it so badly. I know that if I want to be happy in this family, I will have to learn to trust them, which means telling them about the abuse, but for right now I just want to enjoy this moment.

"Mirabella, I see you have a bag there; would you like to go back to your house to get any more things?" My dad asked to make sure before we went to the airport.

"No, sir. This is all I have." I put my head; I didn't want to see their looks of pity.

I heard Angelo scoff; I shot my head up to see Angelo shaking his head. "Nostra madre l'ha rapita, ma non ha avuto la decenza di comprarle tutto quello che si meritava con i fottuti soldi che ci ha rubato. La stronza è fortunata che sia morta." (Our mother kidnapped her, but she didn't have the decency to buy her everything she deserved with the money she stole from us. The bitch is lucky she is dead.) I cocked my head to the side; I didn't understand what he was saying. I knew it was Italian, though. Those mafia books might come in handy. I wonder if they're in the mafia, the suits and everything about them screams power, but that's just silly. There is no possible way I've got a mafia family because that would be fucking awesome, but very unlikely.

My father chuckled, "Sono d'accordo. Non possiamo fare altro che viziarla come una principessa merita di essere. Sembra che abbia bisogno di essere viziata, mi piacerebbe essere quello che la fa uscire da quella tristezza in cui sembra annegare." (I agree. We can't help but spoil her as a princess deserves to be. She seems to need to be spoiled, I'd like to be the one who pulls her out of the sadness where she seems to drown.) I saw Angelo nod his head in understanding. He smiled at my father; I wish I knew what they were saying.

It took us 15 minutes to get to the airport. There was a private jet waiting for us, and I know my jaw dropped. I had three outfits to my name and I'm getting on a private jet. I saw my dad, sorry father, looking at me with a kindness I would never expect to see from someone who looks the way he does. He had short brown hair that sat well kept on his head. The stubble of a few day-old beard. The same shade of deep blue that my eyes were. I definitely favor him; I can't say I'm too upset because my dad and brother were very good looking. Although, it kinda makes me feel a little out of place. I looked homeless standing next to them, I haven't slept, barely have eaten in the past few days, and I'm in the same clothes from two days ago. "Oh my goodness, is that yours?" I definitely did not mean to actually say that out loud.

"Yes, bella ragazza. This is our personal jet. It makes it very easy for us to conduct our business, when we can provide our own form of transportation. Now, let's head on up and get comfortable." (Beautiful girl.) Father smiled down at me and I saw the happiness in his eyes, pride that he can show me this, and I couldn't say that seeing him like this made my chest hurt. I don't know how to react to the affection they're giving me, I've never experienced this. I followed them to the private jet; the inside was just as luxurious as the matte black finish of the outside. The inside still had that dark aesthetic, but it was modern and very sleek. The walls and chairs were black, with a white trim on the windows and the seams of the seats. It was very spacious, with desks in front of the seats.