In Holy Mafiamony

Chapter Twenty-One

Alaiyah:
I jumped face-down onto my bed, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop the tears from falling. This whole situation is just fucked up.

Fuck my father... Fuck the party... FUCK SANTIAGO! I screamed to myself.

I needed to get out of the dress that was holding me hostage. I needed to take off the heels and this fucking jewelry that aided the dress. But what I needed most of all was to get the fuck out of this place. I rather be disowned than to live life, knowing I didn't fight for my dreams or my rights.

I got up to my feet and walked to the front of my bed. I tried to untie the lace to my dress, but it just wasn't coming undone. Feeling hopeless, I just sank to the floor, the tears falling fast and faster with each passing second. The feeling of being trapped began consuming me. My heart rate sped up, and the butterflies in my stomach began to make their way into my lungs, slowly suffocating me.

I looked down at my hands, only to see they were now shaking. My chest that usually protected me was now a Boa Constrictor, squeeze the life out of me. My ear began to ring in the silence of my room. The world around me was starting to dim.

Then there it was—a knock at the door and a voice that broke through the silence. Something happened when he spoke, and his voice started to ground me. For the first time since we met, he almost sounded genuine.

But that's what he wants you to believe. He only is being this way, so you sign your life away. My inner voice argued.

I screamed for him to leave, but my dumb ass forgot to lock the door. I heard the door open, followed by the echo of footsteps on my hardwood floor. My fists started to clench white.

Well, this is it. It was nice knowing you, Alaiyah. He's gonna beat you to death. My fight or flight instincts were now kicking in, and my mind was screaming surrender.

My heart started to beat fast again, no matter how much I knew I needed too, I just didn't have the fighting strength left in me. As weak as it made me, I was almost accepting of the beating that was about to happen. I closed my tear-fille eyes and sat, waiting for the impact of a fist.

He's a monster. He doesn't control his rage. He is selfish. He is cold. He is the devil. All their words raced through my mind as I smelled him getting closer.

But then there it was again. The sound the miraculous stopped the voices in my head that were giving up on me. The voice that slowed my adrenaline and relaxed my Boa constricting muscles. With whatever strength I had left in me, I peeked. And there he was indeed, sitting next to me.

He was just sitting there! No rage. No tense muscles. No anger in his tone. No clenched white fists. There next to me sat a shell of a man... a beautiful man, who was just as broken as I was... and he agreed with me!

I was surprised by the words he spoke. He didn't hurt me.... he agreed with me. Hell, he actually joked around with me. Then he teased me. Then he manhandled me. Then he touched me. His fingertips purposely... gently trailed down my back as he undid the zipper of my dress. His scent, his touch, made chills appear on my skin.

What the fuck was happening with me? It was like my mind was screaming out for me to push him away, but my body disobeyed my mind's every command and silently began pleading out for something more. And to my surprise, Lincoln gave it. His lips gently grazed the right side of my neck, causing me to try and jump away, but to no avail, his grip was not letting me go. And then his lips did it again before whispering in my ear, causing my body to react in a frenzy. But then he walked away, out onto the balcony. In a state of shock, I walked into my closet, sliding the door shut behind me.

I leaned my back against the door and just stood there for a minute, trying to compose the thoughts that where plaguing my mind. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and walked over to my clothing drawers. I pulled out a pair of gray and maroon leggings that had the word 'Pink' written down the legs in a repeating pattern. I paired it with a matching sports bra, then slipped on my pair of black Ugg slippers. Catching a glimpse of my face in the mirror, I walked out of my closet and sat at my vanity.

Grabbing a makeup wipe, I started cleaning my face. My mascara had completely overtook my face, causing me to look like a horror movie moron. I grabbed a makeup wipe and got to work when Lincoln walked back in the room. I felt his eyes watching me as I saw him sit on my bed through the mirror. He actually made me laugh my ass off for a little before speaking on the elephant in the room.

"My lawyer, Kenton Savarez, is on his way over." He said, making me turn around in his chair.

"Damn, he actually answered?!" I felt his eyes doing a once over on me; I could swear he was checking me out.

"Yeah...and what the fuck are you wearing?" His face scrunching with disapprove.

"They are this thing called 'pajamas,' you know, the things you wear to bed," I mocked.

"I know what the fuck pajamas are, and you need to change. There is a house full of people, and Kenton is on his way over." He ordered.

"Okay, first; don't you EVER, tell me what the fuck to do or try and tell me what the fuck to wear, Lincoln. We'll NEVER be on that level. And second, I wear sports bras around this house all the time." I ordered.

"You can't wear that downstairs. If my mom sees you in that, she will make my dad leave. Now change!" he commanded, matching my attitude.

"And that's a bad thing. Why?" I asked, unconsciously rolling my eyes.

"Two!... And it's bad because your father will kill you, then my father will kill me, and I'm not trying to have 'death by daddy' be my cause of death. That's a bitch ass way to die." He joked, causing me to laugh my ass off, yet again.

"Fine, I'll put a cami on... but I draw the line at the Costello," I said, throwing a finger in the air as I turned, only to heard him chuckle from behind as I disappeared into my closet.

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