Page 8 of Mafia Scars

It was true. I knew that was true. I’d go insane, crazy.

“Please, Papa, let me go,” I begged. I used to call him that when I was little.

It was only then that he released me, but he looked like death. His face turned pale, and fear washed over his features.

He stared at me, and I held his gaze. We looked at each other, then something changed in his features. Something that told me he was contemplating.

“You must never speak of this and never tell anyone who you are.” More tears ran down his cheeks. “Never tell anyone who you are, Amelia.”

I turned away from him, not bothering to answer, gripped the door handle, and opened the door.

A gust of wind rushed over the porch. I walked into it and continued walking, never looking back.

Leaving everything I knew and all that I used to be.

Chapter 2

Amelia

* * *

Present day…

I woke with a start, jumping up when the wind blew my window open.

It took me right out of my dream, or rather a nightmare of a memory I wished never happened.

Damn it, it was nearly time to get up.

My alarm clock said it was six fifty.

I’d set it for seven. I hated when I woke up like this, because I’d never successfully managed to get myself back to sleep for those last few precious minutes of escape. I’d always end up oversleeping.

I felt more tired than when I’d first gone to sleep. Same as yesterday, probably worse. It was the dreams.

Since I found out about Luc, I’d had the same reoccurring nightmare every night.

It was of the day I’d left home. The day I left my father.

That was the last time I saw him.

It was coming up to my eleventh year since I’d last seen him and the anniversary of Mom’s death was two weeks ago.

I’d grieved in my usual way, going down to the beach with a bunch of white calla lilies –Mom’s favorite – and just sat on the sand for hours thinking about her.

Mom loved the beach, or anywhere there was water she could swim in. Although she was buried in Chicago I thought the best place to feel close to her was somewhere she might have loved if she saw it. El Matador Beach was a ten-minute walk away from my house. It was beautiful. The kind Mom would have loved with its rocky shores and clear water.

Every year without her was awful. This year though, the pain felt worse. It felt raw, just like it did the first time. Recent events had opened the wounds of grief and pain. Going to the beach this year reminded me of Luc because he’d taken me there, first kissed me there. First captured my heart there.

I sighed and brought my hand up to my cheeks.

Today… today marked three weeks since Luc had practically left, or since I’d let him go. Escape. I didn’t know the correct term for it because I didn’t know what exactly I’d done.

The bottom line was he was gone, and I was beginning to think now that I’d never see him again.

My heart broke every time I thought that and took me close to tears. I hated crying. It showed weakness, and I didn’t want to be weak. Not right now. Not ever.

I couldn’t help it though.