The Mafia's Songbird

To survive in a world full of chaos, one must learn to embrace it.

It was hard— Callie knew that awfully well. She lived in a city where guns were easier to acquire than medicine, and where violence was the answer to everything. A place that the government has forgotten about and where the police worked for infamous crime lords.

To survive amid chaos was hard, and Callie was only barely able to hold her head above water. And with each passing day, she feels herself sinking further and further, deeper into the filth.

“Ugh, can you believe this?” Sienna asked with a sigh. She and Callie have been friends since they were teens. Now, they go to the same community college where the bulletin boards are riddled with dozens of warnings, curfew notices, and missing person posters. “You would think living so far away from the Ashen City would protect us from the scum that live there—” Sienna shook her head in disbelief. “But no, we still live in a nightmare.”

Callie looked away from her beautiful friend, whose blonde hair she had envied for a long while. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “I mean, it’s been pretty mellow these days.”

“Not so bad?” Sienna asked in disbelief, whipping her perfectly styled blonde hair around to face Callie fully. “Callie, people have gone missing, and you work as a courtesan servicing those scum I just mentioned. I don’t say this to belittle your work or anything, you know I love you. It’s just that—”

“You don’t approve of my clients.” Callie smiled softly at her friend, before tilting her head endearingly, her luscious chestnut-colored hair swaying with the action. She knew Sienna was only worried. “I don’t like them either, but they’re tolerable, and they’re paying for my education, thus if not for them, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Callie never resented her work or her Uncle Jimmy, who owned the brothel slash club, Euphoria. He took nine-year-old Callie in when her parents died in a tragic car accident, fifteen years ago, the same year of The Great Burning. Sure, the man was a sleazy old businessman, but he loved Callie’s dad in his own way, so he couldn’t give Callie up.

He was a shit father figure, but he provided for Callie’s basic needs. Once Callie was old enough to bus tables, he made her work at the club. It wasn’t until Callie was thirteen that she decided she wanted to work as a singer. Then, fast-forward six years later, Callie wanted to go to college. She would never have been able to afford it if she didn’t work as a courtesan.

Nobody ever forced her to sleep with men for money, Callie did it to survive and further her education. In these dark times, a woman must learn to survive. And what Callie needed most was a way to escape this rotting place.

Sienna sighed and reached for her friend’s arm, giving it a little squeeze. “You make a great point.” Sienna slides her hand down Callie’s arm to hold her hand. “Still, be careful, okay? I worry about you. And I don’t trust your uncle. No offense.”

Callie giggled, amused at Sienna’s expression. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Sienna.”

“Love you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sienna replied, letting go of Callie’s hand before heading in the opposite direction. “Don’t forget to buy our tickets for the senior party at the club next week! We may live in bleak times, but we deserve some fun!”

“Love you too, take care!” Callie waves goodbye now left alone among the dozens of pairs of eyes staring at her from the countless wanted posters on the board.

“Why bother printing these when the police have the mafia lining their pockets?” Callie muttered to herself, annoyed at how shitty the authorities were handling these cases.

Several people have gone missing in the past week, some of them were Callie’s classmates. Though she tried to sound optimistic for Sienna earlier, Callie knew that things were looking bad for all of them living near the Ashen City.

It has been fifteen years since the Great Burning took place in the middle of the city of Santa Barbara. No one knows precisely what happened that fated day. Some say it was an accident, while some say it was done by terrorists. But there’s one story people believe the most—the one where a man burned the city for revenge. Parents started to use it to scare children who liked to stay out late, saying a dragon would descend from the skies to burn and punish them.

Since then, the city was renamed the Ashen City after what was left. Hundreds died during the fire and every year, families would light candles around the perimeter of the city to honor those who died. But even then, the city and the surrounding areas became a hotspot for criminal activities. Some managed to flee, but not everyone could afford it. And those that remained, learned to live in dire circumstances.

With a sigh, Callie adjusted her backpack and starts to head home, her mind swimming with worry.

It usually took Callie twenty minutes to walk back home from school, but today she felt as if something was dragging her feet to go slower. But Callie knew she couldn’t be late, she had a client coming in tonight.

The apartment that Callie and her uncle live in wasn’t in the best neighborhood, so Callie didn’t think much of it when she bumps into a heavy wall of a man. There were no thoughts in Callie’s mind even as she falls to the ground, overcome with fear. She doesn’t even bother fixing her white dress when it rode up to the tops of her thighs.

“I’m so sorry,” said Callie. Striking blue eyes met her brown ones, and she immediately lowered her head to show submission. She proceeded to apologize profusely when she noticed the man dropped his cigarette. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’ll pay for it.” Though she knew the brand might be worth more than what she earned in a week, Callie offered anyway.

Heart pounding, Callie braced herself for a strike that might come. 

“I won’t hurt you. Don’t worry about it,” the man said, surprising Callie with his deep, rich voice. The stranger walked past Callie, leaving a trail of a delicious scent that could only belong to someone who dripped money. But there was something about that man when he spoke that instantly sent shivers up Callie’s spine.

Still shaking, Callie dared to sneak a peek of the stranger, only to see him get inside a pitch-black McLaren GT.

“Right. Definitely not from around here,” Callie whispered to herself as she watched the mysterious man drive away. She didn’t know who the man was, but she could take a wild guess and wonder who among her neighbors got involved with a loan shark.

But the moment Callie entered their apartment complex building, she knew something was wrong. It was awfully quiet on their floor, which was unusual given the families living there with their noisy kids. But it was silent as death save for the sudden bang of a gunshot coming from their unit followed by a pained scream.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Callie’s panicked thoughts jump back to the man she bumped into. “Did he come from my house?” she muttered to herself, but wondering was useless. It was obvious there was still somebody inside.

Without another thought, Callie fishes her phone from her pocket in one hand and dialed 9-1-1, and with the other, she pushed the door further.

Callie carefully entered the apartment. She reached into her backpack for a small can of pepper spray she kept for emergencies such as this one.

‘9-1-1, what’s your emergency?’

“Someone broke into our house,” said Callie, then without waiting for the operator proceeded to tell them her address. “Please send help quickly. My uncle is inside, and I think I heard a gunshot.”

‘Help is on the way, ma’am. Stay away from the apartment for now. Find somewhere safe to hide until the police arrive—’

“What the?” a man’s voice called out, and Callie immediately aimed the can and sprayed the stranger in his eyes. The assailant jumped back, screaming in pain. That was when another man popped out to check what was going on.

‘Ma’am? What’s going on? Ma’am?’

The second man, taller and meaner-looking than the one Callie just sprayed, stared at the phone in her hand before he shook his head and clicked his tongue. His eyes were gray and stared at her with a promise of death if he didn't get what he wanted. Callie felt her legs shake as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You called the cops?” he asked, disappointment evident in his voice, but something shone in his eyes akin to excitement. “That won’t do.”

Callie couldn’t react in time. Within the next second, the man had snatched the phone away, throwing it against the far wall, crushing it into pieces. It was over before Callie could process what had happened. Before she knew it, she was pulled and dragged further inside.

“Who the hell are you people?” Callie screamed as she struggled against the man’s iron grip. “Let me go!”

The gray-eyed man complied, throwing Callie forcefully to the floor. She yelped in pain when she landed on her wrist, trying to soften her landing. Tears threatened to spill over and through Callie’s blurred eyesight, she saw the horror surrounding her.

Blood splatters decorated the kitchen floor as if someone had coughed up blood and saliva, puking all over the floor. The splatters continued across the kitchen until her eyes found the unmoving lump of flesh leaning heavily onto the dining table for support. It was her uncle, bloody and barely breathing from what Callie assumed was a heavy beating.

Injured wrist forgotten, Callie pushed up from the floor, “No! Uncle—” only to be stopped by the man shoving her back down to the floor.

He clicked his tongue and pushed her back down. His next words tuned Callie’s blood to ice. “Sit down, pretty. I’m not done with dear old, Jimmy here. Be patient, dear. Then, you’ll have your turn.”