Page 1 of My Mafia King

1

CARMINA

It’s aboutone o’clock in the morning when I shake Tina’s tiny shoulder, waking her.

She jumps upright––we all do it in this house––and looks at me with saucer eyes.

“Shh…” I whisper, pressing my forefinger to her lips before she has the chance to talk.

Her eyes widen even more.

She swings her legs over the edge of her old twin bed and tears my hand away from her mouth as if knowing.

“What’s going on? Is he back? Is he drunk again?”

The words shoot like bullets from her lips, her voice still quiet yet very much drenched in fear.

The fear that permeates our brains all the fucking time.

I hate it.

It’s like a bad rash that never goes away, mold that can’t be removed, or an ugly nightmare you can never wake up from.

She can’t stop trembling, her collarbones sticking out through the opening of her raggedy pajamas.

At twelve, my younger sister, Valentina, is in a continuous battle with herself, and her life and circumstances, as kids are when they’re too young to face a shitty situation like this.

I was the same at her age.

Too young. Too fragile. Too fearful.

She doesn’t know anything else.

And I didn’t know anything else.

We’ve both been at our father’s whims who’s thrown fits and grounded us for nothing.

Yes, things have been a bit better since he brought home his new girlfriend, but that’s hardly the foundation for a better future.

Sometimes, the women have a good influence on him. Other times, they don’t. And most of the time, they don’t last for long, and things only get worse.

I’m barely eighteen and no better equipped than my sister to deal with this kind of life. But ready or not, I need to do something about it because this can’t continue.

Things have gotten worse over summer with me barely making ends meet with my low-paying jobs and no real prospect of leaving home or helping Tina and myself.

I have to do something significant.

Disruptive.

And put an end to this.

Dire times call for drastic measures.

So this is it.

I’ve been waiting for this moment for the past four years.

Since it became more and more evident that our lives would never get better, and our father wouldn’t spare us the abusive language, and threats.

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