Last day

Verena Hernandez

As I reluctantly stirred from my slumber, a weight crashed down upon me, disrupting my sleep. "Wake up, idiot," my twin brother's voice pierced through the fog of drowsiness. With a grunt, I shoved him aside, seeking solace in the embrace of my pillow. "Get off of me," I muttered, irritation tainting my tone.

"Get up, you have school, plus its our last day," he persisted, his words a relentless reminder of the obligations that awaited me beyond the confines of my bed. Reluctantly, I peeled my eyes open, begrudgingly acknowledging the onset of another day. Propping myself up against the headboard, I sighed in resignation.

"I'm too smart for school, and you know that," I protested, my voice tinged with defiance as I challenged the logic behind my brother's insistence. Leon's decision to subject me to the monotony of academic pursuits seemed ludicrous, a testament to his naivety.

With a yawn, I pushed myself upright, navigating towards the bathroom to commence the morning ritual. As the warm embrace of the shower enveloped me, I allowed the cascading water to wash away the remnants of sleep. With practiced precision, I applied soap to my skin, methodically cleansing myself.

Emerging from the shower, I indulged in my customary routine, meticulously grooming myself for the day ahead. Despite my reservations about the necessity of formal education, I begrudgingly complied with Leon's expectations, recognizing the importance of maintaining appearances within the intricate web of familial obligations and societal expectations.

With each article of clothing carefully selected and donned, I assumed the persona expected of me: Verena Hernandez, Spain's Mafia princess, the assassin of the Spanish underworld.

With a resigned sigh, I descended the stairs, preparing myself for this day, my last day of school. Which means I am – or was – in my senior year of high-school.

As I approached the dining room, I catch sight of my brothers seated around the table greeted me. A chorus of morning greetings echoed through the room as I took my place, seated between Santiago, my twin, and Leon, our eldest brother and the head of our family.

Our family, La Camorra, consisted of five siblings, each with our own roles within the organization.

Santiago and I, both 19, shared a bond that transcended words. Xavier, at 21, handled matters at the office under Leon's guidance, serving as his trusted right-hand man.

Landon, the youngest at 15, was still in school, eagerly awaiting his 16th birthday upcoming, where he shall be introduced to the family business at his birthday celebration.

Felix, our 23-year-old hacker, our physcopath or should i rather say sociopath, added a lethal edge to our operations.

But it was Leon who commanded the most respect and fear. At 26, he had transformed our once-fledgling empire into a force to be reckoned with, earning us a place as the world's second most formidable mafia.

Our rise in power had not gone unnoticed by our rivals, particularly the Italian mafia, La Cosa Nostra, who had long been our bitter adversaries.

The animosity between our families ran deep, fueled by years of competition and bloodshed. Four years ago, they had struck at the heart of our family, ruthlessly eliminating our parents in a brazen display of violence.

Their actions only served to intensify the rivalry between our organizations, each vying for supremacy in the cutthroat world of organized crime.

"Im sending a few guards with you both to that party later." Leon's stern gaze bore down on Tiago and me.

Nodding in acknowledgment, we continued with our breakfast, each of us engrossed in our own food. I placed a couple of blueberry pancakes onto my plate, savoring the sweet burst of flavor with each bite, while Tiago piled his plate high with bacon and more pancakes.

Amidst the clinking of cutlery and the occasional exchange of words, "Come back home before 5pm, okay?" Felix tells us after swallowing a mouthful of food.

Turning to Landon, I question, "Are you coming with me today?" a routine we had established for our shared trips to school, we may travel to the same school but he takes turns either coming with me or Tiago.

Why not travel in one car? In some cases of emergencies we may need to do our own things after school is over and on the plus side, we are adults.

"I'll take your leave now." I state after Landon finishes his meal, standing up, I bit farewell to my brothers as we walk out. Santiago is still eating so he will come when he's ready.

As I reached for my keys on the holder, I made the choice to go for a spin in my beloved Koenigsegg Jesko. Heading out the back door, I made my way down the staircase leading to our private garage, separate from the one filled with family cars and business vehicles.

With a beep, the car unlocked, its doors gracefully opening as I settled into the driver's seat, with Landon joining me in the passenger side. Starting the engine, we smoothly exited the garage, making our way towards the back gates where the guards swiftly opened up for us.

Once on the road, Landon connected his phone to the car, contemplating what song to play from his playlist.

"Xavier is picking you up after school." I inform him. "Verena," he whispers softly, lowering the volume of the speaker. "Hm?" I acknowledge him with a hum, indicating I'm listening.

"What's it really like being in the mafia? I mean, what's it like actually doing things?" He waits for my response, and I take a moment, resting one hand on the steering wheel and the other against the window. Sensing my hesitation, he urges, "Tell me the truth."

"It's tough, always watching your back and constantly shadowed by guards." I smile at my younger brother, feeling a rush of emotions. I turn my attention back to the road, halting at the red light.

Everything begins early, especially for us. By 13, all but Landon had to make their first kill. It wasn't cruelty; it was tradition. After our parents' deaths, Landon was spared from that burden.

He was just 12, shattered by the loss. Our parents had doted on him, and when Leon took over, we agreed Landon would join in the rituals when he turned 16.

His plate was already full. We couldn't burden him further. After our parents' death, our empire crumbled.

We were fugitives until Leon struck a deal with our allies, the Bratva, who offered us financial aid until he could rebuild everything. Alone.

"Taking a life for the first time... it's never easy. It chips away at your soul, terrifying at the start. But eventually, you adjust, and we'll be there every step of the way, okay? I love you." I lean over, giving him a peck on the temple.

In the mafia, emotions are often seen as a weakness, but within our family, we show affection freely, reminding each other of our unwavering support and loyalty.

As we sped down the road, I noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes, despite his lively demeanor. He's not one for violence, only resorting to it when absolutely necessary. It's clear he's too pure for the rough life we lead.

When the traffic light changed, I hit the gas and made a sharp turn. "Where are we going?" He asks, "Just getting something to lift the mood," I replied with a grin, tousling his hair before accelerating.

Despite his protest about his messed-up hair, he couldn't hide the smile that tugged at his lips.

With the music blasting and the wind rushing through the open windows, it felt like we were in a scene from a Fast and Furious movie.

Pulling up to Romano's Ice Cream, I parked the car and we hopped out, ready for a sweet treat. After locking up, we entered the shop, greeted by the cheerful girl behind the counter.

As I placed our order, her bubbly demeanor contrasted with my own stoic expression. "1 pistachio and 1 Raffaello ice cream, please," I requested, keeping it simple. She asked if we preferred cones, to which we both nodded in agreement.

Taking a moment to text a friend, I focused on the small joy of sharing an ice cream with someone who deserved a break from life's harsh realities. No matter what it takes, even if it's my own life, I'll always keep him safe.

"Here you go!" She hands us the cones, and I pass her $50, telling her to keep the change.

As we stroll to the car, I smile at him, but he's too busy munching on his ice cream cone.

After finishing our treats, I drive to school, arriving at the gates in less than 5 minutes. It's finally my last day.

Exiting the car, I lock it and head towards the school, where my best friend ambushed me with hugs. "Heyy," She greets me, I returning the embraces. Lily smiles, letting go of me.

"HI," I say with a hint of enthusiasm. Nobody knows about our ties to the mob; they just think we're successful business owners, which isn't entirely untrue.

"Come on, they're throwing a small farewell party for us on the grounds," Lily says, pulling me along. I realize it's a bad idea that I wore a white shirt.

Once we're on the grounds, I spot all the seniors, covered in water and colors. The jocks are armed with nerf guns, and I roll my eyes at the sight. They're shirtless and spraying water on everyone. Typical.

We make our way to the center of the field. Lily releases my hand, and just as I'm about to turn around, I see Santiago entering the grounds. Before I can react, Lily throws colored powder on me.

I pull a face and grab some powder from a nearby table, retaliating by throwing it back at her.

We both laugh as water is dumped on us, soaking my white shirt and revealing my body.

Instead of getting mad, I join in the laughter with Lily and Daniel, who dumped the water on us.

With a handful of red color, I chase after Daniel, reveling in the adrenaline rush. Despite his athleticism, I manage to catch up and smear color all over his face and chest.

Triumphant, I return to Lily's side. But just as I take a few steps forward, Daniel surprises me by lifting me onto his shoulders.

"Put me down, idiota," I playfully smack his head, but he refuses, commenting on my weight, saying that I'm not as heavy as he expected. The audacity.

He carries me back to where Lily is, allowing me to jump down. With a smile, he jogs off to join his friends, pausing, he turns around and looks at me, "nice shirt," he winks before turning around and leaving.

"Well, I guess that's something," I remark to Lily, looking down at my wet, see-through shirt. "It's alright, love. We still have a long day ahead, and it's hot. It'll dry in no time."

(***Later that day***)

"We look absolutely amazing!" Lily says as we stare at each other in the mirror and we actually do. I wear a blood red dress, with thin tied up shoulder straps, the dress stops mid thigh and hugs every curve perfectly. I have black YSL heels on too, Lily and I are matching but she wears a black dress and stilettos.

My long straight hair flows down my back, left open, it goes with the look.

"Let's go?" She asks as I add gloss over my lipstick, rubbing my lips together and cleaning the edges. "Yeah." I grab my purse and we head downstairs.

We stop in the living room where the boys are, "You look beautiful." Xavier says looking at us as Tiago and Landon nod in agreement.

"Go change." Felix demands, his eyes narrowing as he takes what I wore in. "No."

I turn to Leon, "I'll be back in the morning." "Like hell you're leaving dressed like that." Felix hisses, seemingly pissed.

Why does he have to be so overprotective, I'm an adult.

"Tengo una pistola en mi bolso y una daga, estaré bien, plus we're going to be late. See you tomorrow." That seems to ease him up a bit.

I bring the tips of my fingers to my lips, mimicking the action pf blowing a kiss before we both walk out.

"What did you say?" Lily ask curiously after a short while of silence when we sat in the car.

"That I'll try not to get too drunk and I'll behave, but you know how I am." I wink at her as I reverse out of the garage and race through the open gates of the back entrance.

She connects her phone to the speaker pf the car and decides to play, 'One Of The Girls' by The Weeknd. She turns the volume almost on max, to the point the seat is trembling.

After a 10 minute drive full of screaming The Weeknd songs, we're finally there. I drive into the parking lot in the pack since the front is packed.

Adjusting my hair a bit, neatening it up, we jump out of the car. We walk around the house to the front, hand-in-hand.

When we reach the entrance, we're greeted with red cups filled with what I assume to be is spiked punch. I roll my eyes, can't even have a proper drink, * sigh *

Entering the house, we push past the sweaty bodies partying and grinding against each other. I see a lot of people I don't recognize from my school.

I guess this is a parry for other seniors too.

I grip Lily's hand tighter so I don't lose her in thr crowd, but she leads me back into the crowd and to the supposed dance floor. She starts swaying to the song playing, "Come on girl, have fun, don't worry, I'll drive us in the morning."

Looking down at my cup, I down it in one go, throwing it... wherever it landed. Soon after we're both dancing away, like there's no one here. Swaying smoothly to the beat.

After about 15 minutes I grow tired of dancing and tell Lily I'm heading to the kitchen, to which she nods and continues dancing.

I keep on walking until finally I reach the kitchen area where it's not really occupied. I sigh in relief, but I'm still slightly tense.

I turn around, my eyes light up at the sight of what's on the island.

I grin, grabbing an unopened bottle of alcohol, I turn back, leaning back against the island.

I bring the bottle to my mouth, bring the top to my molars, I bite down on the metal cap and pull it off, spitting it out into the bin not too far away from me.

I bring the bottle to my lips and chug down like quarter of the bottle down. Once I swallow, I hiccup, smiling.

God this feels so good, I needed this.

I sit up onto the counter, tilting my head back, chugging down more till there's about half the bottle left.

"You should slow down, love." I hear a deep, raspy voice, I smile, still looking up at the ceilingas I set the bottle next to me on the counter, his voice sounds so hot.

Until I drop my head and look at him, my smile and heart drops, whatever else I was feeling is replaced with anger and hatred as I stare at the man in front of me, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pocket.

I stare at the same man who's father murdered my parents, the Italian mafia boss's son.

Rafael Vittali.