Unwelcome

09

        

      Anxiety. a simple word with a simple meaning;

The textbook definition of anxiety is:

A vague unpleasant emotion that is experienced in anticipation of some (usually ill-defined) misfortune

My definition of anxiety on the other hand is HAVING DINNER WITH YOUR LONG LOST BROTHERS WHO ARE -BY THE WAY- IN THE MAFIA. SCRATCH THAT THEY OWN THE FRICKIN MAFIA, AND YOU DON'T KNOW IF THEY'LL HATE YOU OR NOT.

I press my face into the fluffy pillow and groan in anguish as loud as I can.

       Rio had led me to my room and hurriedly told me that dinner was at 6:30pm and I was supposed to go to the dining room (Spoiler: I don't know where that is).

After that he practically left a cloud of smoke at how fast he ran out of the house mumbling about some 'stupid fucking meeting' he forgot about.

Lets just say when I turned around I was surprised.

         My room is mindboggling, the floor to ceiling windows, the luxury bed, the huge walk in closet. Don't even get me started on the bathroom, the last time I saw a bathroom like this was when me, JJ and Danny snuck into a luxury suit at the hotel we were staying in when we were on holiday 4 years ago. It fits my entire old bedroom inside it.

The modern design of the room is crazy. And there's a fucking huge TV, in the room. A TV. Like what in the constipated smurf is this shit. Do these guys wipe their asses with 100 dollar bills or what?

        And that's just my room.

         I tried peaking around the mansion and exploring a bit, but I only got halfway down the second hallway before I ran into one of my brothers, he was wearing some sort of gym gear and had a pair of headphones slung on his neck, he was pocketing his phone when he saw me and he did a double take but before he could even open his mouth or get a good look at me, I was already sonic-sprinting away faster than wind.

      Judging from his features he's younger than Rio and older than the twins.

Dragging my hand across my face I lean back as I assess the options of what to wear to the 'dinner'.

        After 15 minutes of shuffling around my stash of clothes and consulting the AI of Lil Nas x I have on my phone I finally settle for a black, long-sleeved dress with a french neck. The necklace that comes with it is glittering silver, but I chuck it back in the bag because its stolen. The watch that I stole is also chucked in the back of the bag.

         Its ironic really— I steal an expensive watch from a house, but end up actually being related to the person I stole from, and also (unfortunately) he's a mafia lord that kills anyone who so much looks at him funny.

        I slip my dress on and double check to see if any marks are peeking out from under the dress. Lovely old Richard (note the sarcasm) left me some presents before he went on that business trip that nearly killed him (shame he didn't die) and they haven't faded yet. They probably won't anytime soon because he tossed me around pretty well. I use some concealer to cover up the small bruises on my collarbone.

Once I'm satisfied with how I look, I unpack the last bag.

—To utilize my time that is and to get my mind off the anxious thoughts.

       I'm halfway through the the bag when the alarm on my phone rings loudly and I flinch.

Fuck.