Page 1 of Queen of Vice

CHAPTER ONE

Elena

If you have a gut feeling that something is off about a person or situation, listen to it. Most of the time, your intuition is trying to warn you and paying attention to it can prevent future regrets. Believe me, I wish I had followed my own advice. But even if I had, I'm not sure it would have made any difference.

1 week prior

Despite the oppressive humidity, a chill ran down my spine, alerting me that something was wrong. As I rushed towards the worn bungalow with its shabby shingles and creaky wooden stairs, the feeling only intensified.

It was already past four in the morning, so there shouldn't have been anyone awake. However, every light in the house was on, causing a sense of unease to wash over me. The hairs on my arms stood on end as I became acutely aware of being watched. I stopped and looked around cautiously, but the street was deserted except for a few stray cats seeking shelter on the porch of the abandoned house next door.

With a deep breath, I quickened my pace. Walking home always made me nervous, especially in this sketchy neighborhood. But I had no other choice--my car had a flat tire and without a spare, walking was my only option if I wanted to keep my job. Balancing precariously between getting by and utter poverty, I didn't have the luxury of choice. As I passed through the rusty gate and made my way up the pathway, I scanned for any signs of danger.

Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I inserted the one for the front door into the lock and to my surprise, it wasn’t locked. Alarm bells started ringing in my head--this wasnotthe kind of neighborhood you made the mistake of leaving your door open in. I twisted the handle and pushed hard, but the door wouldn't budge. It was definitely blocked by something. I knocked twice, hoping for a response, but there was nothing. I made my way quickly to the other side of the house, my heart racing as I reached the back. I froze the moment I saw the splintered doorframe.

There was no sound coming from inside, just an eerie silence. With cautious steps, I pulled out my cellphone from my bag and prepared myself for what I might find inside. I knew now that something was definitely wrong. Despite the urge to call the police, I remembered the warnings instilled in me since childhood: never involve the local law enforcement if things go awry.

I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, taking in the chaos. The fridge was pulled out from its usual spot, with its contents scattered across the floor. Dishes were broken and groceries were spilled from the cabinets. Creeping around the disrepair, I headed to the living room. Everything was overturned. Couch cushions were ripped apart and the TV screen was shattered. The loveseat frame had been torn apart, blocking the front door. As I walked towards the hallway, I made sure not to step on any of our tiny goldfish that lay lifeless on the soggy Berber carpet. Their once-golden bellies were now a pale white color.

I passed by our tiny bathroom, and couldn't help but glance inside, half expecting to find someone lurking in the shadows. Like all the other rooms, it had been vandalized - the small mirror was shattered and the curtain rod ripped from its place. I swallowed hard and quickly turned my attention away, knowing that my room had probably suffered a similar fate.

With trembling hands, I pushed my aunt's bedroom door open further, hesitant to see what lay beyond. The scent of tobacco, perspiration, and...something metallic filled my nostrils. My gaze fell upon the figure on the bed, and a guttural cry escaped my lips as I struggled to process what was before me. Her nightgown was ripped to shreds, barely clinging to her body. Her skin was covered in deep purple bruises, and it seemed as if her entire left side had caved in. I quickly backed away, bumping into the wall behind me in my rush to flee the room. I tripped twice, forcing myself to swallow back the sour taste of bile rising in my throat.

“This can’t be real,” gasped for air. My trembling hands fumbled with my phone's screen as I scrolled through my contacts, struggling to see through the blur of tears. It took me three attempts to locate the name of the one person I had desperately hoped I wouldnever have to reach out to. It was on the second ring a fresh wave of dread washed over me.

I had no idea where my sister was.

CHAPTER TWO

present

Funerals aren’t for the dead.

Think about it. Why would the deceased care what color their casket is or how many people showed up to see them off? Funerals were nothing more than social gatherings for those of us left behind after someone passed on. Being here, this whole ordeal was supposed to offer closure, a final goodbye. To me, it felt like a cruel reminder of the void that had been left in my life. The empty chair at the dinner table, the voice that I would no longer hear.

Not a single fucking person present would care as much as I did. I was positive the woman three rows back—who had shown up in a tight red dress—somehow confused the cemetery with a nightclub. Quite a few were whispering amongst themselves as the reverend spoke. Some had begun playing on their phones as if they couldn’t be bothered pretending to give a damn.

It took everything in me to keep myself calm and not make a scene. I kept my eyes trained ahead on the two identical cream caskets sitting side by side. One contained someone irreplaceable and dear to my heart. The other was a painful illusion, nothing but an empty box. My estranged family thought this was for the best. Let people grieve an imaginary death versus the never-ending theories and rumors that came when someone went missing.

The problem was that I knew the truth.

It kept me awake at night and burrowed into my chest, creating a consistent pain that had me physically and mentally worn down. I wanted to be numb, to feel nothing. It was my curse to feel everything. I’d managed to keep it together thus far, but I wasn’t sure what the point was. The blatant disrespect I had to endure was a harsh reminder that the Castello family wasn’t the powerhouse they’d once been.

There were hardly any of them left. My parents would be sick with rage if they were alive to see what their legacy had become.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the service to conclude. I’d say it lasted twenty minutes tops, but I couldn’t be entirely sure. There were no passionate speeches or last-minute sobs of despair. It was simply over and done with. My aunt would be forgotten before the first mound of dirt hit the top of her casket vault. That was no different than how she’d lived her life, shoved into a decrepit corner far away from Vice City to struggle and rot. She’d never been given a fair chance, but then nothing in life was ever fair, was it?

I stood and smoothed down my black asymmetrical dress. It was so hot outside sweat had begun gathering between my breasts and thighs. My uncle, Luis, stood with me, leaning down to ask, “How are you holding up?”

I hated that question. Were people ever really expected to answerGood?Fine?Doing great?

Giving him a tight smile to appease the nosey masses, I responded quietly. “I’m having the time of my life.”

A flash of irritation marred his features, my sarcasm impossible to miss. I didn’t care. He hadn’t wanted to do things this way. He’d wanted a cremation for my aunt and a burial for the one person that wasn’t present. It had been a large source of tension between us. My grandmother had swiftly shut him down before things got violent. It was a wise choice, otherwise, Uncle Luis would’ve needed an urn for his damn self. Molly may not have been my aunt by blood, but she was more family than he would ever be. She didn’t deserve to die the way she had or to be judged by a man who never knew her.

“Come, my dear, it’s almost over.” Grandma Laurel’s gentle voice broke me out of my bitter reverie.

She held her arm out and I gently took hold of it, letting her guide me back towards the fleet of waiting luxury vehicles. I tried to avoid looking at anyone too long, but I couldn’t do anything about the lingering stares aimed my way. I wished I could make myself invisible, or that all these people would go back to forgetting my existence. It was the fucked-up clandestine world they thrived in that continued to take everyone I loved away from me.

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