Psychotic Love (a mafia love story)

Chapter 1

ECHO'S POV

I pick at my cold food. I find it hard to have an appetite when I feel my father dig his dark eyes into my soul. He wants to say something, I know it. The way his jaw clenches is a dead give away. His heavy breathing, along with the tapping of his foot, are the only things heard throughout the dining room. He squeezes his glass, and it looks like his grip will shatter it at any moment. He makes the tension in the air feel like a rope around my neck; it's almost suffocating.

"Are you going to eat that, or are you just gonna throw it away like everything else your mother and I gave you?" My dad scoffs, his voice stern.

The irritation inside me rises, feeling as if it'll spill over like a pot of boiling water. He jumps at me any chance he gets, and I'm fucking tired of it. He preaches about how he's given up everything for me, but he hasn't done anything but drown himself in alcohol for as long as I can remember.

I take a deep breath before simply saying, "I haven't thrown away anything, I appreciate everything you two have done for me."

I mostly mean my mother. I'm not too fond of her, either, but she's there when I need her.

My mother clears her throat. "Your father and I worked hard to get where we are today. We work countless hours to ensure your future, not for you to throw it away to become some artist? It's worthless. You're worthless."

Her words struck me like lightning. She's insulted me countless times over the years of my life. I've been called everything in the book, but worthless really hits me where it hurts. The one thing I want from her is validation. I wish she would validate my feelings, my career choice, and most of all me as a person. It seems like I will never get that because she is incapable of seeing how much I long for her motherly love.

I scoff. "Worthless? If anybody's worthless around here, it's your deadbeat husband."

"You do not speak of your father that way. Do you understand me?"

Her sternness amuses me. "He's not my father. He never has been."

"Why couldn't you be more like Ana? She would never approach us with even an ounce of the disrespect that you do." She's a raging mess.

"Well, you know what? Ana's dead, so stop fucking comparing me to-"

My father slams both his fists into the dinner table. "ENOUGH!"

I jump at his sudden outburst, shutting my mouth immediately. His voice has always been able to put me in a trance of obedience. He's held this control over me since I was a little girl. He's used fear to keep me in line my entire life. I'm so sick of this.

My mother stares into the blank space on the table, her eyes glossy, and her lips quivering a bit. She's hurt - as she should be. It's her own fault, anyway. If she hadn't been such a controlling bitch, Anastasia would still be alive. Maybe I wouldn't feel so lifeless, either.

A tear falls from her eye. Usually, I start to feel guilty, or one of them slaps me to the ground. Instead, the room falls silent. I never say anything about Ana when they compare me to her, but I'm simply sick of it. Their comparisons are nothing but a constant reminder that I will never be as good as she was.

"Go to your room, and if I ever hear you mention your sister's name in vain again...there will be consequences."

I stand from my chair, defeated. "Fine, whatever." I stomp up the stairs.

I hate my fucking life. I need fresh air; to live in a new world for a couple hours.

I plop onto my bed, unplugging my phone from its charger. It chimes, and the name 'Victoria' pops up on my screen with purple hearts. Finally. She's the one person that's always been there when I need her, even if she doesn't realise it. I smile before answering.