8 years ago, was any family's worst nightmare, that conversation is one no child should have to hear. “We are so sorry Mr. Russo, we done everything we could. We couldn’t save your wife.” We didn’t even get a chance to say a proper goodbye, we didn't even get a chance to see her. Now it's just the 3 of us and honestly dad isn't even here most of the time, not mentally anyway. Marco, well, he’s Marco he does what he wants, and he doesn’t want to be around me at the minute, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, I know he can’t look at me and I know why, it's because the older i get the more i look like her. The older i get the more i remind him of the mother he lost. The mother we lost, and dad doesn't even notice. If he does, he isn't letting on. I hate that i look like her and i hate that she isn’t here. My father is Mr Al Russo, the kingpin of the Italian American Mafia of the east coast. Mafia boss, notorious ‘fix it’ man (who never gets his hands dirty), murderer, drug dealer, richest man in Boston and absent single father. The last 8 years weren't kind to Al, his hair was thinning to the point where you could see his freckled scalp threw the streaks of black and silver. His dark mournful eyes had begun to wrinkle at the sides, more than they should have at 48. The rest of his skin had begun to loosen, adding years onto his already aged face. I hadn’t seen my dad smile in years, what used to be a bright glowing grin had turned into nothing but a memory and had instead been replaced with a constant scowl. His life was hard, being left alone with a 12-year-old girl going through a puberty that neither of them understood and a 15-year-old moody teenager who, instead of helping, hindered getting into constant trouble. For the first few years he tried his hardest with both of us, but the reality soon set in that my mother was never coming back and the moment it clicked we could see it. He stopped trying, he gave Marco a job in the family business and gave up on him going to any kind of university. He stopped having family meals with us and instead there was a constant stream of random woman taking care of us, doing what he should have been. He never loved them, he couldn’t, and none of them lasted longer than a few months. He dated them for childcare and that was made clear to us the day I turned 16. The last woman left and no more came after. I was truly alone. I had a father who wouldn’t look at me and a brother who couldn’t look at me. I spend most of my time with my ‘uncles’ my father's employees and best friends who made it their personal mission to make sure I was safe and out of trouble. Not that it ever worked. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I caused enough trouble dad would notice, maybe he would realise I need him now more than ever.