History Has It's Eyes

"Then why can't you just be happy for me?! Happy that I've moved on. Happy that I'm happy." I ranted, ignoring everyone's eyes glued onto us. "For once in your life will you think about someone other than yourself? Will you drop the tough guy act and actually appreciate someone else's happiness? Just once?"

"I have always put your happiness over mine." he stated slowly as if he was trying to contain his anger.

"Then why won't you just accept this one thing? What is so wrong with us!?" I fumed, shivering as the night air got colder.

"Because-"

"Because what?!"

"He took you away from me!" he blurted out.
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You know those stories that you read about being trapped in the Camorra Mafia because you're daddy's princess? About finding a way out of the mess with the happy ending?

Those are just stories. Bedtime tales your badante tells you after having a nightmare about daddy locking your older brother away for a reason you'll be shunned for if you ask. A story they tell you after you try to get the thought of your mother, who disappeared after the Stidda Mafia invaded your headquarters. A story they tell you after you have to flee the country, move to Oregon, and start a whole new life with a whole different family as you watch everything around you unravel as if it were a cheap sweater from your grande-grande nonna.

The thing they never tell you is how the hell you're supposed to handle it when everything from those storybooks come to life and you're stuck right in the crossfire. Literally.
********
"Well, well, well," he said as he ran his fingers through my hair. My teeth bit harder on the fabric between them, blinking back the tears as I looked at my best friends body that laid unmoving beside me.

I tried to speak. I tried to force the words out of my throat and through the fabric, twisting my hands in the chains that shackled my wrists to the floor. But I couldn't move. I couldn't speak.

He smiled menacingly at me, "We're going to have fun."