You Can't Escape An Italian Mafia

Chapter 2: Loss

I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my body, looking into the mirror once more. My colorless eyes looked back at me, deep circles under them. My skin is pale from the lack of sunshine, the lack of warmth. My dark hair was twisted into knots. Red, bloodied lips, probably from biting them so often. Lastly, a beaten down body and a broken soul.

I hate what I look like, but don't we all?

I walked into my room and slipped on some blue underwear and a black bra. Who cares for matching anyway? My gray sweats were too big and my hip bones stuck out. I hardly ate, never had an appetite, really.

I put on my mom's college sweater with my old vans. Sometimes I think I can still remember what she smelled like.

I hated how I walked, my voice, my bruises and cuts. Not the kind you would think, either, as I've never cut myself. I get too much of that from my dad, anyway. Sometimes I think of how easy it would be to wrap my hands around a cold piece of metal and just pull the trigger.

But I digress.

I have to get to class.

_____

*Ring ring*

The bell.

I headed to chemistry with my head down, books tight in my arms. I just wanted to get this day over with as soon as possible.

"Hello, class. We will be doing a partner project. This will be worked on in class and outside of class. Since we've had problems with certain past projects, I will be picking your partners."

Oh great, now I can't be with Annie.

Annie has been my best friend since the 6th grade. She's the only one who knows what I'm going through, and she's tried convincing me to get help, but she understands what I have to do. Maybe not understands, but she respects my wishes and supports me. I love my brother and I can't lose him. He is truly all that I've got left.

"Matt, you're with Jenna."

My mother is dead, my father doesn't love me. I look too much like her, but that wasn't my choice. None of this was.

"Jacob, you're with Annie."

I get that life isn't always fair, but I wish I could've swapped places with my mom. She'd know what to do better than I.

"Katie, you're with Michelle."

I just want her back, I'd give anything.

Tears filled my eyes, but I stifled them.

"Noah, you're with Emerson."

Noah came over to my desk and sat next to me. I've never talked to him before, but there's always time for something new.

"So, Em, what do you want to do our project over?" Unfortunately, the night before ran through my mind, and a single tear ran down my face. I covered my face with my hand.

"Who said you could call me Em?" I tried to sound cocky, but it came out shaky.

"I just thought it would be a fun nickname. Hey, why are you crying?" His hand softly touched my chin and he made me look at him. He wiped my face with his sleeve. This is the first time I've actually looked at him and his bright blue eyes, shaggy black hair barely hiding them. He was wearing a black jacket with a navy blue t-shirt underneath. He was wearing black jeans with black converse, my favorite color, I suppose.

He must've noticed me staring because he started talking again.

"Pretty girls like you don't need to cry," he said.
"I wasn't crying. I just got-"
"Something in your eye? Yeah right."

I finished wiping my eyes and we started taking notes for the assignment. My sleeve must've come up a little bit because he seemed a bit startled.

"What's this?" He said as he pulled up the rest of my sleeve. "What the hell, Em? What the fuck happened? Who did this? You have to report this!"
"Noah! Please stop, you're making a scene."
"Why the fuck would somebody touch you like this? Emerson, tell me, or at least somebody."
"You don't know me! I don't have to tell you or anybody else shit!"

The bell rang.

I tried grabbing my stuff and walking away as fast as I could, but he put his arm around my wrist, gently, and pulled me into a corner, nobody noticing since lunch was more important.

"Emerson, I know I don't know you, but why would anybody ever lay their hands on a young girl like you? What have you gotten yourself into?" He said in a low voice, his breath against my neck.
"I fucked up, it was my fault, I deserved it."
"That's bullshit. Was it a boyfriend?"
"No. I don't have a boyfriend."
"An ex, maybe?"
"No."
"Hmm."
"I-I.." I stammered my words. My hands started shaking because he was so close.

He stepped back.

"You don't have to tell me, Em, I understand. You should probably tell somebody, though. Let's head to lunch, okay?"

_____

As we headed to lunch, we talked about our project.

"So what do you want to do?" He said.
"I don't really care. I'm up for anything." I replied.
"What about, "how to make someone smile?'" He said as he raised his eyebrows.
"What did you have in mind?" I questioned, curiously. He plucked a plastic flower from one of the fake plants in the hall and handed it to me. I admit, it did make me grin a bit. Cheesy.

I wasn't hungry and neither was he, so we went and sat down outside on the staircase.

"Hey, Noah?" I asked.
"Yeah, Emerson?"
"Why do you think people hurt the ones they love?" He thought about it for a few seconds. "Because sometimes pain makes you do strange things, but I know if I had someone like you around, I wouldn't leave bruises on your wrists." That made my stomach flip.
"I just think I want to help you from whatever is hurting you."
"Noah, we can only save ourselves."
"Maybe."
"You can't be involved in this, Noah. I don't need anyone's help." He stood up.
"Meet me at my house at 8:00 tonight, okay? Here's my address, and don't be late!" He laughed.

"Okay." I smiled. But this time, I meant it.

_____

My dad was snoring on the couch, he didn't sleep in their bed anymore. I quietly grabbed his keys and slipped out the door.

"Hey, pretty."
"Uh, hey. Are you ready to get started?"
"On what?" He questioned.
"Our project?" I gave him the side-eye.
"Oh yeah! About that. I rented us a movie instead."

We sat on the floor on top of a bunch of blankets and pillows. He hummed along to the songs in the movie. The Lion King, an outstanding choice. About half way through, he slyly put his arm around my shoulders.

"What are you doin-"
"You looked cold." He said.

I got so lost by his touch that I forgot about the drink sitting right next to me.

"Dammit!" I yelled.
"What's wrong?"
"I spilled my drink on my sweater! It's my mom's!"
"Here, follow me." He led me to his bedroom.

He walked over to the closet and pulled out a burgundy shirt that said "Brooklyn, New York" on it with a faded year under the words. He walked over to me and grabbed the ends of my sweater, his knuckles pressed against my hips.

"I can change myself." I blurted out.
"Just trying to help, I'll step out. Let me know when you're changed."
"Wait."

I don't know why I allowed him to stay, to help. Maybe it's because I haven't had soft and kind hands on me in a long time. He pulled my sweater off over my head and gently pressed his hand against my cheek. I felt embarrassed, overwhelmed, lost. Tears ran down my face, stinging on their way.

"Oh." He picked me up in his arms and put me on his bed, joining me and pulling the covers over us both. He kissed me on the forehead and ran his fingers through my hair.
"My mom would always play with my hair to calm me down after my night terrors as a kid." He said sweetly.
I pressed my face into his chest.
"I don't wanna go home." I whimpered.
"You don't have to. Just close your eyes."

And that's the last thing I remember before I dozed off into a deep pit of peaceful darkness.

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