Reaper of the Wicked | A Mafia Romance

XIII|| We're Sisters

I rush over to Teresa. I kneel down next to her. "Let me see it!" I demand frantically. She shakes her head. "I can't," she says between sobs. She pushes her hand closer to her chest. 

"Let me look at it." Teresa and I both look up. Milana stands next to us. Sympathy paints her face. Maybe it's the shock of seeing Milana express any emotion other than boredom, but Teresa extends her hand. Milana gently holds Teresa's hand in hers. She looks toward me. "Go get sleeping pills, alcohol, and a bandage. She then looks at Paola, go get an ice box fill it with ice bring it here. Paola in a daze stands up and does what Milana told her to do. I jump to my feet and run toward the kitchen I grab the first aid kit I had hidden under the sink and a bottle of alcohol, I sprint by the bathroom and grab a bottle of pills too.  I carry my findings in my arms and bring them to Milana. "Take two pills and take a couple of chugs of the alcohol." Teresa, through tears, brings four pills to her mouth. I help her bring the bottle of rum to her lips, she grabs it with her non-injured hand and takes huge gulps. 

Milana and I are the most composed of the sisters. Bella is still frozen in her seat. Stella is on the floor by her chair in the fetal position crying into her arms. 

"Where's Paola?" I ask. Milana looks up from her task of bandaging the stub where Teresa's finger used to be. "I don't know. Go check on her." 

I stand up. Teresa's blinking becomes heavy her crying turns to small hiccups. The sleeping pills are already working. I push to my feet making my way back to the kitchen. I hadn't seen Paola when I first went in but she has to be there. It's the only place to get an icebox. The kitchen is dark lit only by the moon and the stars from the open window, save for the glow permeating from the kitchen pantry.

A low muttering and clanging sounds. I follow the noise to the pantry. 

"Find the icebox and everything will be okay find the icebox and everything will be okay find-" Paola  whips her head towards me. She dawns that horrifyingly perfect smile of hers as she dangerously teeters on two chairs stacked on top of one another. A bottle of alcohol is held tight in her left hand.  "Well if it isn't the bastard herself? Make yourself useful and look in the boxes down there." She waves her hand in dismissal. "You look like your mother." I say, partially as an insult but mostly because when Paola gets drunk it's as if she ages twenty years and becomes Marta.

 Her face crumples into an ugly snarl. "I am not her."  

I scoff. "You should get down from there." I say. The chairs shake precariously. She rolls her eyes. "I have excellent balance. I was a dancer once, you know." she says wistfully. I remember. And she was good too, she'd won awards. She raises her arms above her head as if to twirl. The chairs shake and she immediately drops them. She clears her throat and turns back to the top shelf of the pantry. 

I start digging through the bottom of the pantry. Today has been an eventful day. "We had such a nice conversation in the bathroom, Tori. Why can't we always have conversations like that?" My brows furrow. She must be talking about the conversation in the gala bathroom. Which I recall being terrible. It was just me pretending to agree with everything she said. 

"I fucked Connor." I don't know why I say it. Maybe I feel guilty about it. Maybe I want Paola to punish me with her hurtful words. 

"I fucked a busboy," she says quietly. 

My mouth drops open. 

First,  Teresa, the quiet people pleaser had an affair with Rosa and now, Paola, the perfect daughter followed in her mother's footsteps and fucked a busboy.  She throws down a white and red plastic container. I quickly catch it in my hands. "There, an ice box. Now, everything is going to be fine." She hops down from the chair, and I will admit the movements are graceful.  She smooths down her dress and tucks a strand that fell out of her pony tail behind her ear. 

"I have to get home to my husband. Being a wife is one of the most rewarding jobs after all." Her voice sounds strained. I had never thought, that maybe, deep down Paola hates the role she is forced to play just like the rest of us. 

***Author's Note

MeeeeeOOOWWWWW

MROEowWWWW

hi guys! or should I say I'M HIGH GUYS BAHHAHAHAHHAHA!

I usually edit these stories sober even when I write high but editing is too hard so I figure I'll edit the story after I write ALL the chapters. Anyways, I am her highness, pink, it's a pleasure to officially meet you (I'm imagining us shaking hands right now). I like a lot of things, I like smoking weed, eating goldfish, spending the money I work shitty jobs for. I like pretty dresses and I like writing stories jammed pack with action and S-E-X!! Although I get giggly and uncomfortable when I actually read them back.

I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO!

feel free to comment any suggestions on my work.

OK BYEEEEE