(18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT)
"I don't fuck around, piccola ragazza." The firm, thick words rolled off his tongue effortlessly, his eyes turning into a glare.
A piercing cold, metal barrel pushed against the right side of my skull, his motions perplexingl...
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The burning desire to please my mother and father was undoubtedly etched in the back of my brain. It must have been because of my lack of siblings, and the increased amount of time I would spend with them, but nevertheless it was gratifying to know if I was maintaining their standards. When I was a child, my efforts to delight them relied heavily in my grades. My mother, unequivocally firm, would curl her painted lips into a prideful smile and post my straight A's on our fridge with a letter magnet. Often, she would brag about it to her friends back home, "Viviana est si intelligente (Viviana is so smart.)"
Would she be proud of me now?
Despite my drug-dealing, mafia troubles, I would like to think she would be pleased with the person I am, not the struggles I inhabit. It might have just been to ease my conscience, but I did think highly of myself in regards to my ideals and morals (again excuse the drug dealing). My endeavors to become a chef were still solidly attached, the first steps relying on my experience at the meticulous restaurant.
The night was rather frigid and crispy, my thick, cotton coat hugging tightly around my body as my legs were minorly exposed through my pellucid pantyhose. The restaurant had closed only a few minutes earlier, and I was notified by Enzo—the charismatic bartender who also happened to be Luci's brother—that Cristian was expecting two hundred dollars in exchange for what Eli used.
A subconscious part of me was perturbed by the fact that Eli hadn't been found, yet I didn't let it bother me. After all, he was the one that fucked me over and put the gun on the table.
Thus, I released an exhausted breath, and approached the ATM, the streets quite desolate and a bit ominous. I took a swift, anxious scan and began jabbing at the pins on the plastic machine without a second thought. The metal was cold against my finger, and it sent an unsolicited shiver down my spine.
The machine rose to life, dispensing the crisp twenty dollars bills in the lower hatch. I stressfully rubbed my temples as I perceived the robotics, my mind venturing to the rent that was upcoming. How was I supposed to afford both halves of the bills if I didn't have my second job anymore? Albeit, I did pay more than Eli on most occasions, but his measly one hundred still assisted nicely. And in this moment, my main income was no longer my driving force, and I was relying on my tips--which not everyone had the pleasure of supplying.
The breeze kissed the tops of my cheeks, instilling this vibrant red hue onto the tip of my nose. I promptly shoved the money into my purse, and began my route back to my apartment, surveying my surroundings once again due to my vulnerability. That was when a large, square-like SUV came into sight, the windows blurred from the deep tint, and the outside blending in with the night sky. My throat tightened, and I scrambled to pull my purse onto the peak of my shoulder, hastily striding the opposite direction of where they were parked.
The tires crunching the nearby asphalt indicated their progression towards me, creeping like a pickpocketer only across the street. It unconsciously prompted me to snatch my phone out of my purse, and my posture to tense and tighten despite the warm cotton. Were they affiliates of Cristian's mob? The same men that followed me into the coffee shop? The SUV very much resembled the one that I had encountered previously, but the pit in my stomach said otherwise.
