Day after day, it was still hard to comprehend that I was living a life where abuse--both verbally, mentally, and physically was normal to me. How could someone live in a house like this? How could someone wake up every single day knowing what was about to happen once you walked through those doors? I was the person living in that house.
My room was a safe haven where I can get away from those two people who I called my "parents". My father was a drunk and my mother turned to both drugs and alcohol to take away the pain she was feeling. I just couldn't understand why! We used to be like any other family; normal. We would go out every weekend like a family, it didn't matter where as long as we were together.
But then things changed. I don't know what happened. My father came home drunk. At first, I thought, okay, maybe he had a rough day at work since he usually always had bad days. My mother and I were both in my room, just chilling, until we heard a thump and decided to go see what my father was doing. When we had taken our last step down the stairs and into the dining room, he was with another women, kissing and undressing her. That image scarred me.
My mother was so heartbroken with my father's action that she went into some sort of depression and locked herself in the room. But the issue with my father didn't stop. He kept coming home with different women, having sex with them out in the open in our dining room. My mother, however, suddenly got the courage to get up and leave. I was really happy for her, cause I thought, wow, she's finally doing something, she's finally getting a breath of fresh air.
Then, when she came home, I wasn't prepared for the new person that she had become. It was like she wasn't my mother anymore. Her eyes were bloodshot red like she was high on drugs and her breath smelled of alcohol. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were basically all torn up. It was like I was living in a nightmare that I was never going to wake up to because reality finally settled in and I had to face the fact that this was my life. And I couldn't run away from it.
"Excuse me, ma'am? Are you going to order?"
I looked up to see the barista impatiently waiting for me. I stood there, dumbfounded until it clicked in my head that I was in the coffee shop. I dug into my purse and pulled out $10. "I am so sorry."
The male barista who was making the drinks chuckled and shook his head. "You seriously need some help."
You're definitely right about that, I thought.
I paid the guy and stood off to the side, waiting for my name to be called so I can grab my drink and leave. I was scrolling through my phone when I felt a hard shove and turned around. The guy was tall, dressed in a black suit and a red tie. I couldn't see his face but I could see a tattoo that represented a snake on the side of his neck. It looked familiar.
"Excuse you," I muttered. My comment made the guy stop in his tracks. I silently gulped and watched as he turned around, facing me. He was extremely handsome but when I actually got a closer look at his face, I immediately cursed myself. I knew this man, well, not technically but he was all over the news, the papers, social media, you name it. He was the leader of the Italian mafia. Everyone knew who he was.
"What did you just say?" He walked up to me and leaned down so we were both a centimeter away. His cool, minty breath fanned my face and I instantly realized how close we were. I looked into his eyes and was amazed at how beautiful the green color of his eyes stood out.
"I said, excuse you," I responded after a minute of realizing that he had spoken to me. I heard a gasp from behind me and then someone shuffling away. I rolled my eyes at their stupidity of being afraid of this guy and stood my ground. "Excuse you."
He laughed in my face. "Do you know who I am?"
Duh, your name is Myles DeSantos. You're 25 years old, single, a player, and no kids. You're a family man and you're a mafia leader. But of course, I didn't tell him that.
"Am I supposed to?" I questioned, furrowing my brows.
Myles chuckled lowly. "You're-"
"KAYLANNA," the barista shouted. I quietly thanked the guy in my mind and rushed over to grab my cup of coffee. Once I had the cup in my hand, I dashed out of the shop and into my car, speeding the way over to my school.
I knew I made the terrible mistake of even stepping up to him as I knew this wasn't going to be the last time I see him.