Page 154 of Mila: The Godfather

Fuck, does she paint my world.

Colorful and full of magic.

Grabbing her hand, I walk her towards her brand-new cars. “Come on, pick one, and let’s go for a drive.”

“Really?” She smiles, and I can’t help but smile with her. Her smile is as beautiful as it is infectious.

“Really, baby. Pick.”

“I love them both!” she says while giving it some thought. After a few seconds, she makes her decision. “That one.” She points to her blue Model X.

And that’s how we spend the rest of our day. Talking, laughing, and sharing fun facts while my sweet queen drives us all over my city.

It can’t get better than this.

But it did.

So much fucking better.

Mila’s Secret Thoughts

He stole my heart and kept it to himself.

Because You’re You

MILA

“You are all of my best days.” — R

At times, when I’m deep in my thoughts, I tend to tune out the world. I don’t notice when I’m being called by my name. That’s what happened next.

Too busy reading my favorite book, I didn’t notice my father standing behind me, calling my name. Not until it was too late.

“Mila.” A dark voice barks from behind me. I startle and drop my glass of milk on the floor. A feeling of dread takes over me when I realize what I just did. What father hates more than being ignored is messes, and I just made one on his squeaky-clean floors.

Before I have any chance to defend myself, I feel hands slam into my chest, and I fly back, the wind knocked out of me as I land on my behind.

Pain shoots through my tailbone, and I suck in a breath, déjà vu washing over me.

“What have I told you about ignoring me?” My father barks, making me jump. I don’t like people who yell. They’re mean and have nothing nice to say in my experience. “Fuck, look at you. Even dogs respond to their name.” He says in disgust, followed by a mean laugh.

It sounded cruel. The dark sound burrowing through my stomach like a screw.

I push to my feet, feeling embarrassed and sad. How can a father take so much pleasure in hurting and terrorizing their child?

I’m not perfect. I know that, but it hurts. I feel. I’m human, even if he tries not to see me that way. The worst part is that he never comes to my room. There’s nothing here for him. The only reason he’s here is because he’s in the mood to remind me of my place in his life.

He loves to humiliate me. It makes him feel better to blame his failures on me and my sisters.

“I did not mean to space—” he slaps his hand across my face. A whimper escapes me, my cheek bursting into flames. He’s always yelled ugly names, smacked me around, but he has never slapped my face until now.

“Don’t talk back.” He gets in my face. His eyes are harsh, and his mouth twists in a cruel smile. My father is a handsome man. He reminds me of my older sister Arianna, but where Arianna has a kind heart even as cold as it is, my father’s heart is black.

Tears of embarrassment gather in my eyes, and I try my best to hold them back. I drop my head, knowing that nothing I say will ever appease him or make him look at me as his daughter instead of a nuisance.

“What do you say, child?” Child. Never Mila. Another attempt to dehumanize me.

Knowing by heart what will follow if I don’t give him what he wants, I answer. “I’m sorry, father,” I whisper with my head down. He hates my eyes. He hates looking at me, but especially my eyes. I can’t seem to maintain eye contact for long, and that makes him angry. He says it makes me weak and it makes people uncomfortable, so I learned to hide my flaws, but sometimes I slip up. Like today.

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