by Fariah Zaidi
“Want to know what I really think of you?” I asked softly, still holding his hand.
His smiled dimmed, but it was still there, “Do tell.”
“I think you’re just a short-tempered Italian Mafia Boss in desperate need of a hug.”
“I’m not really good with physical acts of affection.” he shakes his head, scrunching his face a little.
“But you kiss Mama Bella each morning.” I remind him and he smiles sheepishly.
“That is because she will kill me if I don’t.” he exclaims, making me laugh harder.
“Stefan,” I start again, “if we’re going to be friends…”
“We’re friends?” he cuts me off, asking the question with his head tilted to the side.
“Yes, we are.” I nod my head, “I don’t know how long I am going to be here Stefan, so you might as well get used to my sarcastic ass.”
He was silent for a moment before speaking again, “Since we’re starting again, I would like to apologize for what I did the other morning.”
“You did that already, Stefan and I accepted it.” I tell him, “And now that I’ve had time to think about it, I believe it was just all the stress that I have been through this past week, and the fact that you took me by surprise.”
“Nonetheless,” he shakes his head, “I just want you to know that I would never touch you against your will. I am not that kind of a person.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his words. How sincere they were.
But there was something in his eyes that told me he wanted to say something to me, like a confession that he wanted to make. There was an undecipherable emotion swirling in those grey orbs, making me wonder what was holding him back.
And then my body was moving on its own accord when I leaned forward and reached on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. He hesitated at first, but then raised his arms and wrapped them around my waist.
A small sigh left his lips that made me hug him even tighter. And it was one of the feelings that I never wanted to let go of.
I don’t remember how long we stood there, but it was probably one of the best moments of my life.
“My turn, my turn!” Rafael yelled from across the room where he was lazily sprawled out on the couch, “Are you a banana? ‘Cause I find you a-peeling.”
A collective groan rose from the group followed by laughter.
Twenty minutes ago, I’d walked into Stefan’s office to call him down for dinner, only to find the Rafael, Enzo and Vincent present there too. The moment I’d entered, Vincent blocked my way with a dorky smile on his face, “Do you have a band-aid, ‘cause I scraped my knee falling for you.”
I gave him my sweetest smile before answering, “Ria would bash the same knee in with a golf club if you don’t stop flirting around.”
The smiled was wiped off his face in an instant as the others joined me in my laughter. Vincent muttered something under his breath and went to sit on one of the chairs.
Since then, we were trying to come up with the most cringe-worthy pick-up lines we’d ever heard, while waiting for Stefan to finish up with some work. Enzo, as usual, did not join us, but I did catch him shaking his head with laughter multiple times.
“Forget it!” Stefan suddenly shut his laptop, getting up from his seat, “I cannot work with the three of you acting like complete idiots.”
“Oh come on, sweetums.” Rafael pouted in his direction, “I haven’t even used any lines on you yet.”
Stefan was desperately trying to act irritated and commanding, but his resolve weakened and he broke out into a smile.
“Let’s go have dinner.” he shook his head in amusement, “If I listen to one more of these lines, I’m going to shoot myself.”
It was hard to believe that these were some of the most dangerous men in the country. Here they were, sprawled around the room like teenagers, throwing around pick up lines that have been taken straight from Tumblr.
The past few days have been normal and free of any drama. Well, as normal as life can get in the house of a Mafia family.
Things between me and Stefan have been good. We’ve been talking, a lot. I was surprised how easy it was to get lost in a conversation with him.
It didn’t take me long to understand that despite having so many people around him, Stefan never really talked to anyone. He had Mama Bella, Rafael, the others, but for some reason, he was immensely candid in talking to me. And when he talked about his mother and his quest for vengeance, I could hear the anguish that accompanied the rage in his voice.
He was also a good listener. He wouldn’t interrupt me when I would go off into one of my rants and begin rambling about anything and everything. He would just sit there, listening and nodding patiently with an amused twinkle in his eyes.
And day by day, I gained the courage to tell him what went down that night, over two years ago. I had never talked to anyone about it, because I was afraid of the judgment, and the consequent nightmares that would come if I said it out loud.
What surprised me most was that when I finished telling him everything, I did not shed a single tear. Instead, the pain and sadness in my heart slowly transformed into hate and rage.
Until all I wanted to do was wring Valentin’s neck with my bare hands.
“We will.” Stefan had answered, “We’ll make him pay. We’ll drag his death out the longest we can, until every bone in his body is broken, until he is begging us to kill him. And then you can wrap your fingers around his neck and choke the life out of him.”
Now we were waiting for him to make the first move, so that we could finish him once and for all.
Chapter 13: Progress
Zara
It was a few days later, I stood on my balcony, gazing out at the estate and its sheer beauty. Absently twirling the Family ring around my finger, I couldn’t but be overwhelmed all of a sudden of how much my life has changed.
What Valentin did to me has haunted me for two years straight. So much so, that I’d sometimes not even go to sleep because I knew he would come in my nightmares. And talking to the right person about it finally made me move on from the pain and the fear.
And now, I was just consumed with ire and vengeance. Every cell in my body was burning with the urge of taking Valentin’s life.
I was pulled out of my reverie when there was a knock on the door and someone pushed it open, “Zara, are you here?”
“Balcony!” I answered.
I heard Ria close the door behind her and walk towards me.
“Why are you standing out here?” she asks, stepping next to me.
I shrugged my shoulders in answer and looked at her, “What’s up?”
“Nothing much.” she said, leaning against the railing, “I’m bored. We have nothing to do today.”
I look her, and can’t help but smile at her pouty face.
In the past couple of weeks, Ria and I’s friendship has developed. I haven’t had a friend my age in a long time, and it looked like the same was the case for her. And despite all the make-up and marathon sessions we did, I knew that beneath all the laughter and clumsiness was a girl with a horrid past.
So I decided to talk to her about something that I have wanted to for a long time.
“Ria, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” she said, her eyes fixed on the bird that had landed on the balcony floor.
I didn’t know how phrase the question so I just simply asked.
“What’s your story?”
A shadow fell across her cheerful aura as she opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if unable to decide what to say.
“It’s actually a long and sad story.” she finally said, thoughtfully tapping her finger against the railing, “But I don’t talk much about it. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want to hear it.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to hear it?” I asked.
“Because it is ugly and disgusting and I’m afraid you’re going to judge me and see me differently.
”
I was about to scoff when she went on to say something else.
“Besides, even though I know what happened with you, I’ve never heard you talk about it.” she says, “I guess you’re afraid of the same thing.”
This made me pause abruptly and I realized that what she said was actually true. All this while, I refused to open up to anyone because of the fear of rejection and judgment.
“Don’t get me wrong, Zara.” Ria smiled at me, “You are basically my first friend ever and I love you. But I’ve come to realize that it is always a two way street. So if you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about your past, I’ll tell you about mine too.”
I nod in understanding. I cannot ask a person to trust me and open up to me unless I am ready to do that myself.
“Have you talked to Vinny about it?” I asked.
She smiled at Vincent’s nickname, her fingers going to the silver chain she wears around her neck, “I have.”
I didn’t have to ask further to know that it had ended up well for them. Judging by the content smile on her face, I could tell whatever she was afraid of did not happen.
“People think friendships are much easier to maintain than relationships.” she says, “But the truth is that both require equal effort. There is trust and love and a respectable amount space.”
A comfortable silence descended between us as I mulled over her words. However, when she turned to me again, a mischievous smile was growing on her face.
“I have a really great idea. But I do require your consent, ‘cause I don’t want to force you.” she says, her smile making me vaguely suspicious, “Do you feel like talking? About everything?”
I surprised myself when I barely took a moment before nodding in affirmation. Her smile was infectious, and made me want to know more about this idea she had.
“Wait here.”
Motioning me to stay, she ran towards the door and out. I waited a couple minutes before she ran back inside, closing the bedroom door behind her. My attention however, quickly zeroed in on the bottle and two glasses she was carrying in her hand.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked walking back into the room.
“Yes!” she giggled gleefully, “Stefan always has a bottle of Scotch in his office. It’s the finest one too.”
She plopped down on my bed and unscrewed the cap, pouring it in the glasses. She handed me one and waved at me to take a seat beside her.
“In the spirit of our progressing friendship, you and I are going to take a drink for every time life fucked us over.” she declared, holding up her drink.
“Are you serious?” I ask, laughing with her.
“Yup baby!” she cheered, “Like every sad fuck in books and movies, we are going to drink our pain away.”
I looked down at the alcohol in front of me, thinking whether it would be a wise decision or not. But then figuring what the hell could go wrong, I pressed the rim to lips, throwing the drink back in one go. It was bitter and it burned my throat but I liked it.
“I’ll go first.” I surprised myself by saying.
Ria motioned me with her glass, giving me an encouraging smile.
“It all started when my parents and I returned home after celebrating my nineteenth birthday…”
Twenty minutes in, I finished my story with curses that would put a sailor to shame. I didn’t know where all these sadistic thoughts and rage were coming from, but I liked it. Maybe it was the alcohol in my system, or maybe it was the person I knew I was slowly changing into.
The aura had changed. While we had started with laughter and jokes, by the end of my story, it had died down.
“Your turn.” I pointed to Ria, refilling our glasses.
I watched as she drank the Scotch in one go and then took a deep breath.
“When I was eight, I lost my parents in a car accident and got stuck with a foster family full of drug addicts. They were okay in the beginning, but as I started growing up, it became unbearable for me. They threw wild parties in the house and strangers would walk into my room in the middle of the night.”
She shook her head, looking disgusted.
“I was sixteen when I ran away. I worked as a barista in this cute coffee shop and its owner, a kind, old woman allowed me to live in the apartment above. My dreams of going to college had already been shattered, so I tried saving up enough money to rent out my own place and apply for more jobs.”
Memories began flashing in her eyes and she took another swig of her drink.
“One evening, I was returning after giving an interview when two masked men attacked me. One of them threw a bag over my head and the other injected me with something that made me lose consciousness. When I came around, I was in some kind of a jail cell. I remember yelling and crying for help, when this man came along and handed me a skimpy outfit. He ordered me to put it on and left.”
My hand flew to my mouth in shock.
“I defied him, which angered him to the point where he ordered me to change by holding me at gunpoint.” she continued, her voice hoarse from holding back the tears, “I did as he asked after which he dragged me by my arm into a room full of formally dressed men and half naked women walking around.”
“Oh my God, Ria.” I whispered, a tear escaping my eye.
“It was an auction, Zara, to sell of young girls like me.” she cried, “God, there were about ten other girls there, all dressed in trashy lingerie, just waiting to be sold off to the highest bidder.”
I refilled her glass, and mine too.
“This fifty something guy bought me for two million dollars. He took me to his house a-and…”
She broke down, tears falling freely from her eyes. I moved forward, wrapping my arms around her.
“He did b-bad things to m-me, Zara.” she sobbed into my shoulder, “He used to tie me up to his b-bed and…”
Another wave of tears overtook her words as she cried, her body trembling.
“It’s okay.” I shushed her, running my hands up her back soothingly.
When she was in control of her words again, I pulled away and she continued to tell her story, “He kept me in his apartment for almost a year. It was one day that I couldn’t take it anymore. And so, I decided to run away from that hell.”
I held her hand tightly in mine.
“He had gone out of town but his guards remained home, keeping an eye on me. I was so determined to leave that place that I was willing to cross any limits. I’d scoured the house enough to know where everything was kept.”
I listened with bated with breath, wondering what she had done.
“I found a couple of loaded handguns he used to keep in his nightstand. That day, I shot the two guards outside his door, emptying the barrel in their bodies. I took the emergency staircase and very carefully ran out the building and onto the road. I had no idea where I was going, but I ran.”
“I was on the streets for two weeks, with no money and nowhere to go. I ate and slept in shelters, but I was in constant paranoia of him finding me. At the end of the second week, I had stumbled onto the road, right in front of a car.”