Page 49 of Brando

In an instant, Frank lunges, his hand grabbing my wrist with a vice-like grip. I gasp, the pain igniting my fury. I don’t want his hands anywhere near me. Without thinking, I bring my knee up into his groin, a desperate move fueled by adrenaline. He grunts, momentarily loosening his hold enough for me to twist free. My heart pounds in triumph, but it’s short lived as he recovers quickly, pure rage flashing in his eyes. “You little -”

I don’t wait for him to finish. I dart past him, adrenaline surging as I sprint toward the door, freedom looming ahead like a beacon of hope. But Frank is faster; he grabs me by the shoulder, yanking me back with a force that knocks the breath from my lungs.

I stumble, hitting the ground hard, pain radiating through my body. But I’m not done, not by a long shot. This could be the end of me, but I’m willing to take that chance as I struggle against the invisible binds he’s clothed me in. Rolling onto my back, I kick out, connecting with his knee. He howls inunexpected pain, stumbling back, and I scramble to my feet, my determination surging like wildfire.

“Stay away from me!” I scream at him, adrenaline coursing through me as I face him, ready for another round.

Frank straightens, a wild look in his eyes. “You think I’m going to let you get away with that, Mia?”

He lunges again, but he must be getting weak, because he misses his mark. This time, I’m ready. I sidestep him, grabbing the hair dryer laying on the edge of the bed and swinging it with all my might. It connects with his side, and he roars in fury, pain igniting his features.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” he spits, as he sways slightly on his feet.

“Not even close!” I snarl, adrenaline surging in my veins as I swing again, this time aiming for his head. He ducks, and the dryer clangs against the wall, then falls to the ground.

With a primal growl, Frank charges at me, tackling my body to the ground. The impact knocks the wind from my lungs, but I fight back, clawing at his face, desperate to push him away. I can smell the metallic tang of his sweat and blood as we wrestle, each movement a brutal dance of survival.

Tears of frustration burn in my eyes as he overpowers me. No matter how hard I fight, he will always find a way to keep me here, to control me. He is a monster, and I am nothing but a pawn in his twisted game.

But I won’t let him win. Not now. Not ever.

In a surge of strength, I manage to flip him off me, trying to scramble to my feet just as he reaches out and pulls me back toward him. He draws me back to the floor with him, our scuffle reigniting as we fight for purchase, and I understand all too clearly what I couldn’t see before. Frank never had any intention of letting me go. And he never had any intention of giving me back my sisters. He probably has every intention of killing us all.

“Let me go!” I scream, desperation creeping into my voice. “You fucking monster!”

Frank’s expression twists with cold fury and something darker—something that chills me to my core. I back away, breathing heavily, the weight of his presence crashing down on me. As he advances toward me, I steel myself, dragging myself backwards across the floor, fear coating every inch of my raging heart. I’ve only ever seen him this way one other time before, and that didn’t work out so well for me.

“I’ll never let you go, Mia. Not in a million years. Not until I carry your casket and put you in the ground.”

“Where is he?”

I shook my head. Even as sadness overwhelmed me, it was all I could do as my heart gasped for air. Brando was gone. Just as unexpectedly as he’d appeared in my life six years ago, he was gone. He left without saying a word. Without so much as a goodbye. No backward glance, no explanation. I know we hadn’t been the best of friends lately, but it still hurts deep inside that he would just pick himself up and leave without so much as saying goodbye. By walking away like this, he effectively killed us. He killed any hope for the future, any chance of the word ‘us’ existing between us.

I wanted to find him, to run to him and scream and shout and tell him it was him. It had always been him. Long before Frank came into the picture and laid claim to my heart like it was a possession he had to covet; my heart had already decided what it wanted. Somehow, I found myself in the arms of Frank Falcone, but all I could ever think about was Brando. It had always been Brando. And when that happened…when Frankheld my hand and paraded me around the school grounds for all to see, laying claim to me, I thought the very least I’d get out of Brando would be a reaction. But I got nothing. For all my efforts, I got nothing but a kick in the guts as he ignored me and turned the other way.

“Mia!” Frank grabbed my bare arms, digging his nails in, and shook me, demanding a response. His eyes were crazy wild, and I couldn’t understand it. I still couldn’t see what was always there to be seen. “Where is he?”

Brando had been gone for days by then. The first day, I barely noticed his absence. The second day, I told myself that he had come down with some virus and he’d be back the following day. But when the third day bled into the fourth, and he’d been gone a whole week, I finally took the first tentative steps towards his house and knocked on the front door, not knowing what to expect. I had never known what to expect with Brando.

Rumors had already started to float around the school. Everything from a school transfer to an interstate move, to juvie from those who got extra creative.

I’d never been into Brando’s home. We’d always met at the pizzeria or at our spot by the creek, but we had on some of our earlier adventures walked past his house, a stately mansion sitting atop a hill on the highest side of the street. So I knew exactly where he lived. So that Monday of the second week after he mysteriously disappeared, I walked to his home after school and I stood on the street, contemplating my next move. It felt kind of odd to be here, but there I was, standing outside my sometimes friend’s home, waiting for him to miraculously appear before me.

The house was quiet. Still. Peaceful. There was no car in the driveway. The curtains were pulled tight. I walked up the short path to the front door. I knocked once, twice. Three times. I sat down on the top stoop, my hands clasped between my knees as Iwaited. And waited. I don’t know what I was waiting for, but it never came. No-one ever materialized at that door, and no-one ever answered my knocks. It was only as I was walking down the path to leave that a lady appeared, emerging from a car in front of the house. She was smartly dressed in a two-piece skirt suit and low pumps, her hair tied back in a severe bun. She carried a board on poles, which she proceeded to hammer into the front lawn, putting unsightly holes in the pristine grass. All the while, she looked at me as I watched her, her curious eyes following my movements as I approached the gate.

“It’s on the market if your parents are interested,” she said, shooting me a smile. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I looked at the sign and my heart dropped, before I looked at her again.

“Do you know where the family is that used to live here?” I asked her.

“They moved back to the city,” she told me. This time, my heart clenched. It squeezed shut then exploded in a flurry of miniature attacks.

“Will they be back?” I asked her.

She looked up at the house, her appreciative glance taking in every inch of the structure.

“Well, they’re only leasing it out, so they could be back,” she told me. “But they did just spend a substantial amount of money renovating their home in the city, so I guess they’ll be there a while.”

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