Unholy Matrimony (Unedited)

2

I DIDNT KNOW THIS CHAPTER WAS HALF WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED - I AM WRITING THIS FOR SHITS AND GIGS BUT I STILL CARE ABOUT A HALF DECENT STORY- IM SORRY GUYS

-MJ.

N.

I look a lot like my mother, curly light brown hair and hazel eyes that squinted into an almond shape. Lips that seemed almost too big for my face and a nose that jutted slightly to the left, only I had my fathers brushy eyebrows and slightly pointed jaw.

Sometimes if I looked at myself for too long, I'd find so much of my parents, I lose track of me.

Blinking at myself in the mirror of my vanity, I pull away. My reflection seeming more distorted the more make up I cake on. The girl looking back at me looks miserable, I think I used to have laugh lines and now my face is just as stone as my fathers.

With a grunt I wipe at my face with a makeup wipe, glaring at my reflection. My nails scraping at my skin as I scrub at my face.

I was avoiding my father, which meant invertedly I was confined to the four walls of my bedroom and I was praying silently that he wouldn't send anyone to retrieve me or worse- come himself. I doubt he would, there was always a few days of silence that followed a blow out with my father. Conversations with my father always escalated too fast before I could even comprehend what I said that set him off. It was better to avoid him all together, for as long as I could.

The sun was just beginning to set, sending a hue of orange through my open curtains, when I heard the off beat rhythm of several car doors shutting. Sighing I pluck a bobby pin off the vanity and use it to pin back my bangs, using my fingers to touch up my curls.

In this life, presentation is everything. I've only ever really owned dresses and gowns and I've been wearing heels since my mothers funeral when I was nine. This evening I chose I simple white maxi dress with sheer long sleeves and white pumps.

I could only hide in my room and drown in my thoughts for so long before I would be forced to entertain my fathers games. He had left me be and I knew if I didn't show my face to entertain the Italian don, my father would take it as disrespect to what he considered kindness. Letting me hide out in my room like a huddled squirrel.

"Nalani." A voice floats through the space ajar in my bedroom door before they push it all the way open. My stepsisters voice is very soft, despite her cruel underlying demeanor. Selene was perfect for the organized crime world, she was cold starting at the heart and only genuinely cares about her own well being.

She leans on my door with an annoyed look on her face, "Will you come on? I shouldn't have to wait for you when were meeting my fiancé." She narrowed her unnaturally blue eyes before huffing and stomping away. Making me roll my eyes skyward.

I learned early on it was best to ignore Selene, she only picked more once she got the reaction she wanted. Rolling my eyes to myself I tug the top of my dress, making the fabric fall in place as I turn away from the mirror.

Isaacs room door is open and inside I can hear him rustling around in his closet.

"Isaac?" I brush my knuckles softy against his closet door, his large and neat despite the few draws askew.

"Yes, im in here." He calls, to focused on the buttons of his shirt to notice me in the doorway.

"Here, let me Bubs." He sighs loudly as I move to help him button his shirt, his tiny shoulders tensed and his posture rigid. For a nine year old, he stressed a lot more than a kid should.

"Whats wrong?" I fix his collar, then his hair before adjusting his shirt again.

"Dad said I should be seen and not heard. That this dinner is important for business." I frowned at his revelation, but his shoulders sag slightly like it lifted the weight of it off his shoulders. I force I smile that I know is tense and Isaac's expression lets me know, he knows it too.

"Yeah, he tends to say the same things to me." His frown deepens, "But between you and I- dad is better seen and not heard sometimes too." His giggles swallow my whispered words as I scatter my fingers over his ribs, his childish demeanor makes my heart melt.

His childhood could be summed up in three birthdays and a gun shot. If you asked my father, Isaac was never supposed to be a child. He was supposed to be a solider, not just a man of ometra but the essence of it, someone fit to rule our empire and establish our place in the uphold of the organization.

My brother was just another child born with a prophecy tied to his ankle like a cinderblock while my father watched, coached him through the ragged waters of our world like a trainer to his boxer in the ring.

"I love you Lani." His arms wrap around my neck tightly and I squeeze him to me just as tight.

"I love you too, bubs." I run a hand over his hair, attempting to keep the silky strands in place as he nuzzles my neck, tightening his hold like ill disappear.

"Sometimes, I wish you were my mom." My breathing hitches as I struggle to find words, when he was a baby he used to call me ma-ma but it was baby babble mostly and when Rene heard him babble those two syllables one day - I was icing my bruised jaw for weeks from her punches as she attacked me like a wild animal, it took my father and a guard to pull her off me.

I squeeze my little brother tighter, wishing desperately we were born to a different life, different people. Maybe in another world, Isaac and I are living peaceful with parents who adorn and love us, maybe.