The Mafia's Girl

LILY’s POV   All my life, I’ve only wanted one thing. LOVE. Why, you might ask? It is because love is meant to transcend all things. Love speaks out for justice and protests when harm is being done. Love points out the consequences of hurting oneself or others. Love allows room for anger, grief, or pain to be expressed and released. Love is a force of nature. However much we may want to, we cannot command, demand, or take away love, any more than we can command the moon and the stars and the wind and the rain to come and go according to our whims. LOVE. It is also the one thing that killed my father, drove my sister to insanity and lead me to where I am today. My name is Lily, and this is my story.   ***   “Lily! Rose! Wake up!” mother calls us from the creaky wooden door, lighting up our darkened room with a candle. The orange fl

Father is carried piggy back style by another neighbour. I gasp at the sight of my old man. His bruised hand hangs limp by his side as he is laid on our straw bed. He moans in pain. Little Thomas starts to whimper and I have to shield him from seeing father. Mother kneels down by the side of the bed, softly calling out to father. As she calls him, she wipes the flood of tears that come streaming down her face. “Tim,” she whispers, choking back sobs. I want to cry too. Father’s face is bruised, his eyes swollen shut and there are bloody welts across his back. He had been whipped. Rose steps out of the bathroom and stifles a cry. “Hurry! Get cloth and water!” I manage to croak out before pushing Thomas into the arms of Samuel’s wife. She has come to help. Swiftly, she carries a bawling Thomas out of the room. I seethe with anger. Beasts. The mafia are beasts. How could they do this to father?! Rose comes back in with a wooden round basin

KANE’s POV   I sit in the darkened office of Owen’s Pharmacy and stare into the eyes of the man who killed my father. There is fear in his dull brown eyes, but it is a fear that has come too late. He rubs his palms together, begging for mercy on his knees as Tore, my right-hand man holds him at gunpoint from behind. I trust Tore with my life, he has stuck by my side ever since we were children. We’re pretty much blood brothers though we look nothing alike. Tore wears his light brown hair sleeked back and tied up in a little ponytail and has the build of a Greek god. Even as he cocks the gun at Owen, Tore towers over the trembling man. “Please, I have a wife and a kid,” Owen begs with a quivering voice. I lean forward from the worn-out plastic stool that I sit on and stroke the man’s pudgy cheeks with my blade. It's sharp and pointy, and grazes Owen on the cheeks. He winces in pain and a streak of dark red blood appear. “S

LILY’s POV When I was young, probably around three or four, father would perch me on his broad shoulders and run around our little wooden house as I flapped my hands in the air. I’d imagine myself a bird, soaring free and high in the sky. I remember how happy I had been then. My lips would curl up so high they would reach the corners of my eyes. Such was the joy of our simple game. I’d always ask for ‘just one more time’ and though father was weary from work, he never failed to indulge in me. Father worked hard for all of us, and now the time has come for me to take the burden from him. “You?” the leader cocks his head with a quizzical look. An eyebrow arches high as he looks me up and down, not sure what to make of my offer. I guess volunteering is not a common thing. “Yes, take me. Leave my sister alone,” I say with resolute, trying to hide the fear in my voice. From the corner of my eyes, I can see Rose’s dainty little mouth drop to an ‘O’

*Kindly note that this chapter contains trigger warnings. Please read at your own discretion.  LILY’s POVI don’t think this is Sergio’s room. It certainly doesn’t look like a gang leader’s room, it’s more like a holding cell of some sort. There is a lone window that has been heavily barred with timber planks leaving just enough space for you to peer out and catch a glimpse of the starry night, but not enough for you to stick a hand out to signal for help.Help.That is something I desperately need right now, but who would come? Who would step into this hellhole and free us all? No one. There will be no help.There is only one piece of furniture in this cold and unforgiving room. The four poster bed, but it gives me no solace for I know the crimes that have been committed on these beautiful white linen. I can hear the ghostly echoes of those who came here before me as their ho