Something You Should Know

Her heart beats erratically as she slides against the wall, hiding herself from the people around her. The darkness envelopes everything, distorting the people and the room they inhabit.  The people drown in the cigarettes that they inhale, cradling their high like a baby in their arms. Their smoky breath suffocates her as she pushes past the people in the corners. Something in her head screams, 'I shouldn't be here!' But the rebel in her is smiling like the people around her.

Bodies pulsate against each other, bumping into her as she gets closer and closer to the door. Never had she been so excited to walk through that door, but something in her had changed. The scared, innocent girl is no longer lodged deep within her soul. She smiles, taking the final steps to the door; she can almost feel the danger in the air. The knob twists with ease and she pushes, nearly falling into the room. But her smile stays in place.

The temptation to run and hide seems to be reinstated when she lays her eyes on Vincent, a large, muscular man that loves to inflict fear into young girls like her. But Vincent liked her for some reason. Something about the scrawny brown eyed, brown haired teenage girl creates feeling inside of him. He gestures to the plush chair that lingers next to him, commanding her to sit. Approaching cautiously, she sat in the chair, settling her body comfortably. Her heart sped up as he reached across her and poured a liquid into a glass. Unable to see the bottle, she could only watch as the liquid slid down the side of the glass and pooled, until it was reaching the brim. He handed the drink to her. Wrapping her hands around the cool glass, she mumbles her thanks, and watch as her hands shake. She always got this weird vibe from Vincent but never had it made her shake before.

Vincent watched as she shook and stared at the fruity juice. He didn't like that she was uncomfortable. He mentally cursed himself for caring but knew he would have to make her comfortable.  "It's fruit juice, honey. Now, tell me about your day." He settled back into his chair, closed his eyes and waited for her to speak. He could hear her as she sipped at the juice, working up her courage to speak.

"Well, um, I-I," She stuttered, more than afraid of his overbearing presence. He reached over and squeezed her leg, letting her know that he was indeed listening. "I went to school, took a few tests, skipped study hall and went home." She stopped there, realizing the squeezing got tighter.

"Skipped study hall?" He boomed, bursting from his chair, he hovered over her. He could see the fear in her eyes and her hands shook uncontrollably. The only thing she could do was nod in reply. His face was turning bright red and his hands turned into fists, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He gritted his teeth to prevent losing his cool, although he knew he was getting close. "Why?"

Her whole body shook and her eyes filled with tears. "People ask questions. They don't have anything better to do, in study hall. Why can't I just tell people?" She was shaking uncontrollably. He sat back down, and pulled her into his arms. She didn't embrace him back, but she didn't push him away either.

"Honey, we've been over this. If you tell people, then it will create problems for you. I don't want that. People will harass you and all because of me." He stroked her hair, wishing for the first time in his life things were different.

"No they won't! They'd be scared of you!" She finally pushed him, nearly falling to the floor. She stood in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and defiance alight in her eyes. "You make it out like I should be ashamed of you, Dad." He couldn't help but smile. She very rarely called him dad.

"Honey, if your peers knew your daddy was a mafia man, they wouldn't be their real selves around you because they would be afraid." Her shoulders sagged, and she crawled into his lap, curling up into a ball.  He stroked her hair, curling his hand into a fist around the locks. His anger was evident. Why did he have to get involved in the mafia? He wanted to punch something, but with Hope in his arms, he wouldn't dare. He reminded himself, like always, if he wasn't in the mafia, he would have never met Hope's mother.

"But I can't be my real self around them," she murmured, before falling asleep.