Indebted To Marco (Slow Updates)

The Handsome Italian Stalker

Yawning, I quickly brought my hand up to cover my mouth, hoping that Papa or Father Osvaldo hadn't noticed how exhausted I was, because I knew I looked terrible. Six am mass had come way to quickly this morning, leaving me with very little chance to really relax.

Even with Sev ushering me home earlier than usual, I still hadn't got very much sleep, I was far to tense and nervous that his loyalty to his brother and Familia would win over his promise to me and that he would end up telling Marco everything about where and who he had found me working for last night.

Severiano had been beyond dramatic about keeping a attentive eye on me, even going as far as walking both Richie and I to the front door of my house, before ushering us inside like criminals and instructing, well more like threatening Richie about not letting me out of his sight again.

I felt horrible for putting poor Richie in this situation even though he was the one who snitched me out to Sev. Yet I found that I wasn't mad at him for it, he was the one that kept getting in trouble because of the decisions I was making and forcing him to go along with.

My own guilt was getting the better of me, I didn't have to remind myself who I was dealing with here, I knew I needed to be a lot more careful. I definitely didn't want someone killed because of me, especially someone as friendly, carefree and understanding of my anger in this messed up situation as Richie was being. But there was just something that made me want to defy Marco's demands, to push back at him and see just how far I could go before he snapped.

Dio mio what is wrong with me?

Once again, that gut-churning guiltiness from last night washed over me, causing me to flick a sympathetic gaze down toward the end of our pew to the poor kid tasked with the tedious job of having to keep a watchful eye over me.

Something I still couldn't comprehend, what was the reasoning behind this requirement? unless... no Antonella don't even think that delusional, wistful thought.

Richie must have sensed my gaze on him, because within moments he was turning his head, locking onto my gaze while furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes in confusion, probably wondering why I was staring at him to begin with, before he flashed me his dimpled, confident smile. Smirking, I shook my head at him and turned my attention back to the front of the church and tried to focus on the Father.

Father Osvaldo's sermon this morning seemed to focus on taking responsibility for our own actions and understanding that those actions, however small and menial they may appear, almost always have consequences to them. It seemed a little to convenient that he was preaching about this topic today, it's like he knew exactly what has been going on in my life for the last few days.

Nervously I bit my bottom lip and tried to concentration on the stained-glass window of Saint Maria Goretti, the patron saint of teenage girls and rape victims. I stared at her angelic face, remembering when my Nonna Galiana, my Papa's mother, told me how Saint Maria at the young age of eleven had forgiven her attacker on her death bed, wanting him to make it to heaven. I remember her explaining to me the need to forgive those who had wronged us, how it was important to let it go so that the burden didn't weigh heavy on our souls as well as theirs.

Suddenly I got an eerie feeling, that tingling sensation that creeps up the back of your spine and prickles across your neck, like when your being watched.

Flicking a quick glance to Uncle Carmine, Aunt Teresa and their guards sitting in the pew in front of ours, I discreetly cast a peek at the people around us, hoping to catch the person staring at me, only to find that everyone except for a few bored children were all focused on Father Osvaldo.

Shifting nervously in my seat, I shrugged off the nagging feeling and turned my attention back to the window of Saint Maria. I was becoming more and more aware of the fact that the eerie feeling had not passed when I felt a slight tugging on the right side of my long sleeved light grey floral knee length dress, I glanced down into the soft, chocolate brown eyes of my baby brother, who had a desperate, pleading look on his cute little face.