nine
787 Words
Marco POV
HER SOFT BODY is warm against me, her hands clutching my neck tightly.
Her breath blows steadily on my neck, chilling the area.
I carry her to the car where I sit in the backseat beside Seraphina.
I try to sit her in the seat beside me, but she won't let go of me, crying each time I try.
Like mother, like daughter, I think to myself.
"Shh, I'm right here, mia Fatina." I coo in her ear trying to get her to relinquish her grip.
"C'mon, let go for me, so I can get you home? Just for second?"
Prying her off me, I put her seat belt on, letting her latch onto me.
"Grazie, cara mia."
She snuggles into me. I heave a sigh, catching Alessandro's eyes in the rearview.
His tired eyes still hold amusement, his smirk prominent.
"Look at the piccola famiglia," he cooes mockingly.
(Little family)
Realizing that we do, in fact, resemble a small family, with Seraphina clutching my finger and Angel's head on my shoulder and arms around my neck.
"Sta'Zitto Cugino."
(Shut up Cousin)
He raises his hands in a surrender, contradicting the motion with his smirk.
"Okay, 'Papà.' Mi fermerò."
(Okay, 'daddy.' I'll stop.)
Seething, I order him to leave my house.
Finally in peace and quiet, I tug the girls closer to me, tucking them into me and sleep.
[•]
MY BROW DIPS, a movement making me stir. I'm missing...
I'm missing a girl.
"'Merda." My eyes peel open in dismay this sunny Sunday morning.
Shifting Sera's little body so that her head rest on my shoulder, I sit up against my head board.
"Angel?"
Tear filled violet eyes meet mine.
"I have to go."
Anger wells inside me, erupting like a geyser.
"Che cosa?" I grit out.
(What?)
"I have to—"
Calmy, I silence her with my hand. Then, I take Sera to the next room over, strap her in her car seat and come back to a puzzled Angel.
Now, I'm ready.
"Now what were you saying?"
"Marco I have to go."
"No."
She scoffs, a disbelievingly laugh escaping her.
"No?" I shrug.
"No."
"I—!"
"I said no, Angelita. You may not leave. You will not leave. You are going to stay here until you can find somewhere else safe."
Pressure is building, tension, between the two of us, and our voices, as if acknowledging this, slowly rise as well.
"I'm not asking your permission!" She glares.
"I don't care. You are not leaving, Angelita. And if you do..."
"Then what?" She sneers, "you'll spank me?"
"Maybe,"
This throws her, her mouth opening and closing.
I can't even bring myself to smirk at her flushed face, because I'm not even joking,
By now I'm standing on one end of the room, and her on another. I lean on the wall, trying to appear nonchalant when, in all actuality, I am poised and ready to strike.
"You're not my father," she scowls obstinately to which I causally lift my shoulder and let it drop.
"I don't have to be. I'm 6'4 and roughly 250 pounds of pure muscle. You are what? 5'3? And underweight."
The silent, 'nuff said' hits her hard, coupled with my expectant look.
"W-well I have a gun."
"So do I."
Her eyes widen, and she whispers as if to separate her question from the argument.
"Wait, you do?"
"Several."
"Yeah well—" she stammers, groping for something to say. "Well, my gun is better than yours."
"That does not even make sense," I huff in exasperation.
"I'm not obligated to make sense to you!" She screams furiously.
My jaw clenches as a wail floats up from the next room.
Great. She woke la bambina, I think saracrsically.
(The baby)
The fight naturally gravitates toward the room where the baby is, the anger still present.
It seeps into our every movement; Angel snatches the bottle, pounding it as she shakes it roughly, glaring at me.
I yank the portable diaper changing station from the diaper bag, slamming down the baby powder and wipes.
The only thing that isn't rough, is the handling of Sera. Taking a deep breath in, I calmed myself before I picked her up.
As I told Angel, I am not a small guy. So everything I do holds more weight than what I intend.
Not to mention me being angry.
I shush her, bouncing her, waking in circles.
Once the baby has been changed, fed and burped, Angel puts her back in the room, so we can continue fighting.
"I'm leaving no matter what,"
Finally I get fed up. Crossing the length of the room, I pin her down.
She's not leaving.
Not again.
- Writer
