The Mafia Leaders Brother

Chapter 1- New Home

Picture of Malia above^

For those of you that have already read the first book, Welcome back! If you haven't, you don't have to. But if you'd like a better understanding of this one, then you may. That is up to you, Reader.

~Enjoy.~

Malia~

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

I was late. So late on my first day at a new school, but it wasn't intentional. I could've made it on time if...certain events...hadn't taken place at home this morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~

"Malia! Malia! Malia!"

I groaned and turned over in bed, bringing a pillow up to cover my head.

"Malia, wake up! You'll be late!"

I peeked out from under the pillow to see my little brother, Aaron, standing by my bed with a smile, his crooked teeth showing.

"Hey, Aaron." I sent him a soft smile before climbing out of bed, hearing his little body plop onto it after me.

"I want breakfast," he said, lying there with his arms outstretched.

"Well, why don't you go downstairs and wait for me, okay? I'll be down to make you some."

"But what if...he's down there?" He covered his face, his voice wavering.

Damn, I forgot about him. If he's down there, then I definitely don't want him to be alone.

"Okay," I said, going over to give him a small kiss on his head. "Wait here until I'm done getting ready and then we'll go down together."

He nodded and sat up, crossing his legs. I gave him one of his toys that were laying around on my carpet floor to keep him busy as I got ready.

I went to grab some jeans, a white shirt, and my converse from my closet before putting them on the bathroom sink.

This routine happens almost everyday. Being in foster care sucks ass, but I don't have a choice since I'm not eighteen yet.

Moving from house to house used to scare me when I was a little girl, but it doesn't phase me now. I came to terms with the fact that no matter where I go, they will never want me.

So it didn't surprise me when my previous home decided to give me up, resulting in my social worker having to look for another home.

That's why I'm here now. With my present foster home. It involved an overly drunk who was abusive and rude, and a sweet little six year old boy.

Aaron wasn't an offspring of that overly drunk, but a foster kid like me. Unlike me, Aaron has been here for two years and I've been here for one. But nonetheless, we're going through the same hell together.

Although, I feel mad that Aaron had to go through that dickheads abuse all by himself for a year. But not anymore. Now that I'm here, I won't let him touch Aaron ever again.

Aaron may not be related to me, but he's grown on me. Blood or not, he's my little brother and I'm not going to let anything happen to him. I've been here for a year and I love him. And the feelings mutual.

After throwing on my clothes, brushing my teeth, and washing my face, I pulled my wavy hair into a messy bun, leaving some out to fan my face.

Once I was done pulling on my shoes, Aaron and I made our way downstairs to start breakfast and, thankfully, he wasn't down yet. I made some eggs and bacon and laid some out for Aaron to eat as I set another plate aside for Dave, our so-called foster parent.