The Mafia's Butterfly (Rewriting)

[25]

"Maybe this cage has been a cocoon all along."

- Stacie Martin

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Josephina

"Most of the things that I want to take with are upstairs." I tell Alexander who is standing behind me, with his gun in hand and ready to take out any person that comes near us. 

If he wasn't Clara's brother then I'd be absolutely terrified to be alone with him. I mean Clara also has a gun in hand right now downstairs so that makes me feel somewhat better because he's not doing it to be creepy or something like that. 

"Let's get moving then." He gestures for me to start walking and I do making sure that I know what I want while walking to my room. 

Having all of them here is reassuring but at the same time, I feel the same way I did when Clara wanted to come into my home last time. They come from money and maybe it wasn't always like that but guaranteed they've spent a lot of their lives with money. I, on the other hand, did not come from money and granted I did grow up in a family that didn't struggle that much financially but most of my life was spent without money. Therefore having them in this house and seeing how I've been living for so long is not a comforting feeling. 

Although I am grateful that my mother isn't home right now because I can't even imagine the amount of chaos and hassle that we'd have to go through and all for me to get a few things. It's currently morning so she's definitely out walking somewhere drunk. 

The two of us walk into my room and the first thing I see, is my room was trashed. My bed is mess, the sheets and bedding torn and cut apart and the actual frame itself chopped into pieces and scattered around the room. The mattress lying in a completely different place in the room. The dresser that my dad built has also been chopped and is completely in shambles. My clothes have been thrown around and some have been cut and torn as well. 

Tears automatically start to gather in my eyes but I don't let them fall. Mostly because I do not need to cry in front of Alexander again but also because I really don't want to continue crying because of my mother. It doesn't take a scientist to know that my mother was the one who trashed my room. 

I take a deep breath and walk into my room, looking around and then my eyes settle on the dresser again. I walk over to it and run my hand across the biggest piece of the dresser left. "This was the only thing, of its size, that I had left of my dad." I smile sadly, thinking about the day he built it for me and it took literal hours for him to finally finish building it. I was so excited to pack my clothes into it and he ended up helping me arrange everything even though he was tired. 

I quickly get up and wipe the tears that had fallen from my cheeks and I don't give Alexander a chance to say anything to what I just said. Looking around, there are still some clothes that aren't torn or cut but just thrown around and so I start to pick those up and then put them into a pile next to the door. There were one or two items of clothing that my dad bought me which I'd like to keep and I'm happy that it didn't get destroyed. 

"So, I'll take those. Then I need to take the important stuff." I mumble to myself and move around Alexander, who is just standing in the middle of the room. He's just watching me move around, gun now just hanging in his hand by his side instead of the ready to shoot posture he was in. 

"Do you have a bag?" He asks after watching me walk around my room for another few minutes. I shake my head in answer but then stop and actually think because I'm almost certain there is one downstairs.