𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

one

Today's the day.

My father has sent me on my first mission and I can't wait to show him that I'm just as meant for this life as my brother.

2 hours earlier

"You need to be efficient Marie." My father — Lucio Vitale, leader of our mafia — said sternly, "Once you're in, you're in."

"I know father." I groaned and threw my head back in frustration. It hit the dry wall behind me and I contained my grimace of pain, and embarrassment.

He has been grilling me about this for the past month. I know the plan like the back of my hand by now. I was to "run into" our opposing mafia, play dumb, and get kidnapped.

It wasn't rocket science.

"I'm just nervous, Marie! You can understand that, surely." His italian accent was thick, and he ran his tattooed hands over his buzzed hair in distress.

My brother is always the one who is sent on missions. He's always the one my dad trusts to handle high stress situations. I've always just been his little girl, and I think he's having a hard time accepting the fact that I'm 20 now and it's my turn to start doing missions, just like my brother.

"I know. But I've been training for this since I was old enough to hold a gun. I know what I'm doing." I scoffed and started to pick at the chipping nail polish covering my fingernails.

"Spero di sì." He muttered, his hands still cradling his head. (I hope so.)

"I love your faith in me dad. It's really reassuring." I rolled my eyes and gave him a sarcastic smile.

"Don't get smart with me Marie." He lifted his head to glare at me. His cold, black eyes stared into mine with such intensity. An intensity that maybe once would've made me look away, but now I just met his gaze with just as much venom.

"Whatever." I left the room and went down to the basement for weapons. I need ones that are small but efficient.

Times like this were when I wished I had a mother to talk some encouragement to me. Everyday I wonder what it would've been like to have a woman presence in my life. Someone to braid my hair, or sing me to sleep. Someone who would clean my knee scuffs when I played too hard outside.

But that wasn't my reality. My reality was having a mom that died during child birth. I live with the fact that my life was given to me at the expense of hers. That's why I try everyday to make it a life worth living so she wouldn't have died in vain. 

I spotted my brother rummaging through a box when I went down, "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"What are you doing here?" He turned around quickly, his brown hair was messy and sticking up in random directions.

"You know what I'm doing here dumbass." I rolled my eyes and walked towards the furthest wall where all the guns were hanging.

"Oh yeah! It's your big day today!" He smiled. His tooth gems sparkled in the fluorescent light of the hanging bulb above us.

"Yes, I'm so looking forward to getting roughed up by our enemy mafia." I rolled my eyes, "Who doesn't love being drugged and kidnapped just for the fun of it."

"Well I would do it, but they know who I am." He smiled wryly.

"Yeah. Killing 50 of their men would surely get you noticed Giovani." I mocked and slid my black hair into a tight ponytail.

"I hate when you use my full name." He pouted like a child. "It makes me feel like I'm in trouble." He turned back to the box and pulled out a large gun and examined it.