Dancing With The Devil

daddy dearest.

Life in a mafia is a world of constant progress and forward motion. Stand still for a second, and you'll be left behind. But as hard as we try to move forward, as tempting as it is to never look back, the past always comes back to bite us in the ass. And as history shows us again and again, those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Sometimes the past is something you just can't let go of. And sometimes the past is something we'll do anything to forget. And sometimes we learn something new about the past that changes everything we know about the present.

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I woke up the next morning in a bad mood, dreading the events that would soon follow. I jumped in the shower and scrubbed myself raw in the shower, focusing on the water stains and soap scum to fight off the overwhelming dread I felt for the day.

I got dressed in the outfit Jungkook helped me pick out. I put my hair half up, half down, and pulled out a few strands to frame my face. I put on a black jacket and wore my red heels and headed downstairs to where Namjoon sat at the kitchen island doing paperwork. "Are you ready?"

"If I waited until I was ready to see him, I'll never see him" I responded. He grabbed his keys and made his way towards the front entrance. I followed him.

I hopped in the passenger seat as he started the car. "Do you think he'll recognize you?" Namjoon asked.

"I'm not sure. I kind of look like my mom so maybe he will"

"Can you put your seatbelt on please?" He said in a condescending yet fatherly tone. I looked at him with questionable eyes before oddly obeying him.

"I saw the picture you drew in your room" he continued.

"What about it?"

"Was that your family?"

"Yeah what I remember them to be at least... they could be dead for all I know"

"Were you close to your brothers?"

"For the five minutes I knew them, yeah. What was your mafia childhood like?"

"Pretty normal. I went to school, did clubs, and stuff then came home and went to work with my dad for a little."

"How old were you when you first killed someone?"

"15"

"And your sister has no part in this life?"

"No, she finished high school here and then moved to America to finish her education"

"How old is she?"

"About one or two years older than you"

"You guys still stay in contact?"

"Every couple of months we'll talk but that's it. She has an American boyfriend now and she's happy so we just live our separate lives"

"What about your parents? Do they get along since your mom is always traveling?"

"She's settled down a little bit. It was during our childhood that she left for work a lot. She still travels around a little but for the most part, she's at home."

"How often do you see your parents?"

"Not as much as I want to but they're up in Ilsan so they're not far" he responded. I eyed the sky nervously, the clouds that had been wispy and white that morning were now darker and denser, threatening a downpour. The gloom of the day was reflected in the moods of every other driver on the road. Grey masked the sky completely that even at noon, every car had on their full headlights. "Why did your mom kill herself? If you don't mind me asking" he asked, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting on the center armrest.