Page 155 of Mila: The Godfather

“Clean this mess up.” He kicks the glass on the floor, making more of a mess before he leaves the room.

I wait for the door to click shut behind him, and only then do I dare let the tears fall.

Going into the bathroom, I grab a towel to clean the puddle of milk on the floor. I’m not risking going downstairs to look for a mop and running into him again. This will have to do.

Dropping to my knees, I wipe the floor until there’s no stain on it. Once I’m sure it’s clean, I rise and make my way to the window with the dirty towel in hand.

Lifting my hand to my chest, I tap it three times, stop, and do it again, trying to ease the pain there. God does it hurt.

“Why?” I whisper to the dark, looking out my window. The sky is dark, but the stars are shining so brightly. “Why was I born this way?” I cry out, trying to hold in the sob, not wanting anyone to hear. Not wanting to cause another mess.

Wiping my tears, I don’t look away from the window and start to imagine all the things I would do if I ever got out of this house. I hold onto those dreams and focus on only that until my chest doesn’t ache.

Until the tears dry.

But deep down, I know there’s no leaving this house of horrors.

This is not a fairytale.

No one will save us.

No one.

* * *

When I was younger, I took up drawing and painting as a hobby because it offered me an escape. It also helped me understand human emotions better by observing their behaviors and later translating them into art. It was just something I did to keep myself from constantly thinking of our living situation inside the Parisi home. Later, I realized how much I truly loved drawing and painting. It has become so much more than what it originally was. Now, drawing and painting help me communicate with people better. Plus, it increases my emotional intelligence. Which is always good.

Humming my current favorite country song, I pick up the brown acrylic paint and empty what’s left of it onto the clean palette.

I smile because I finally found the perfect shade. An exact match for what I want.

Mixing the brown paint with a small amount of yellow, I look up at the wall that used to be plain white a few days ago and now is filled with color and love.

For him.

Yesterday, I heard Cianne mention that Riagan’s birthday is coming up and a thought popped up. One that had me giddy and nervous at the same time.

It is the perfect time to give him something.

Something from the heart.

I asked Cianne to help me with the surprise and asked if he could get me the supplies I needed for the project I am planning but he just smiled at me and said to follow him. I did and when he took me to the left wing of the mansion he showed me the studio Riagan added just for me.

At first, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It looked just like one of those professional studios I see popping up on social media, but the difference is that mine has a homier vibe with bright colors and funky furniture.

I almost fainted in excitement.

My heart almost burst when I saw everything he had gotten for me.

All the materials and equipment he purchased. It’s more than I will ever need. And the beautiful room is decorated with colors I love.

It made me so happy.

Not the material things, but that he thought of me.

He remembers my likes and dislikes. He always does.

I showed him that night just how grateful I was for his kindness and thoughtfulness.

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