Twisted Devotion to My Mafia Kings

Raven - Ten years Ago I clutched my book to my chest like it was a lifeline, fingers digging into the worn out cover as I hovered in the hallway outside the cafeteria. My hands shook. My knees did too. Yesterday, someone dumped an entire tray of spaghetti over my head. I swear I could still smell the roasted tomato's in my hair, even though I had showered twice in the gym locker room after school. Not that it mattered. I wasn't eating today anyway. There was no money on my lunch account, and it wasn't like my foster parents would unlock the cabinets so I could pack something myself. The cupboards were always locked. I was never allowed to have the key either. Only permitted to stare in absolute dispare and desire. My stomach rumbled painfully as the scent of food drifted through the open doors. I bit my lip and peeked inside. Too many people. Most of them ignored me, and I preferred it that way. But there were certain crowds - certain people - who treated me like entertainment. I tugged my sweatshirt down as far as it would go, trying to hide my stomach. I nitpicked my appearance the same way everyone else did. Being a sophomore was harder than people said. Being a kid was harder than anyone admitted. I was fifteen years old. I had PCOS and diabetes. I weighed nearly one hundred and fifty pounds more than I should. With proper medication - insulin, medical care, stability - I could manage my conditions. But try explaining that to my foster parents. IT didn't matter that I had insurance or that they were given a stipend to care for me by the state. They rationed my insulin, giving me just enough to survive. Just enough to keep me breathing. Never enough to keep me completely healthy though. They sold the rest for extra cash. They always made me watch it happening too. I made it work though. At least... I tried to. There were nights my blood sugar dipped so low or rose so high that I thought I might die. They never noticed. And if they did, they never cared. Once, I tried to tell my case worker. She came for a home visit, and my foster parents played their roles perfectly. Smiling, doting, attentive. I tried to signal her. Tried to show her with my eyes that it was all a lie. She didn't see me. To her, I was just another name on a clipboard. As soon as the door closed behind her, my foster father ripped his belt from his loops and struck me again and again until I bled. I still have the scars from that. I didn't scream. I wouldn't ever give them the satisfaction. That was why I wore baggy clothes, long sleeves. Pants, sweatshirts. It's why I never showed skin. The more people saw the bruises, the scars, the worse it got later. I hated this life. I missed my parents. My real ones. I'd been five when they died in a car accident - on the way to one of my endocrinology appointments. I squeezed my eyes shut as memories that were blocked attempted to surge forward. Pain throbbed in my head, and I rubbed at my temples. The crunch of metal. The burn of oil and gasoline. The heat of flames climbing higher and higher around the car. I sometimes heard glass shattering as the firefighters used the jaws of life to pry me from the wreckage. I still struggled to ride in cars. Sometimes anxiety wrapped around my throat like a chokehold and refused to let go. I can't remember anything else about it. I can't remember my parents last words. My memories were fewer and further between. A hand touched my shoulder. I flinched violently, breath hitching. I hated being touched - especially when I wasn't expecting it. Conditioning from my current life taught me not to trust anything. I turned to see Chris. My best friend. My safe place. Concern etched onto his face as he studied me. I'd known him since elementary school, since the day he found me crying alone on the playground and sat beside me until everyone else went away. We've been inseparable ever since. His parents were kind - on the surface - but wary of me and downright mean to anyone they deemed unworthy. His mother was cruel everyone. Chris came from elite society, heir to an obscene fortune and company. I'd overheard them once, whispering behind closed doors, calling me a gold digger. They were wrong. I just wanted a friend. "Not going in?" Chris asked gently. I shook my head. "No... I can't." I hated how weak I sounded. "Want me to grab us some lunch?" He offered. "We can eat in the courtyard." Tears burned my eyes. I hated relying on him. It made what his parents said about me sting even more. I hadn't eaten since yesterday, however, when he brought me lunch, and I was starving. When I didn't answer, he smiled knowingly. "Why don't you go find us a spot outside? It's nice today." Chris never judged me or my anxiety. He never spoke ill of me. He defended me every chance he got. He knew pieces of my life, but not the whole truth and it amazed me how willing he was to be there for me without knowing the whole picture. He took my book from my arms, smiling. We shared a love of stories - fairytales, romances, impossible loves. We both believed they weren't meant for people like us. We bonded over it. He handed it back and hugged me before heading into the cafeteria, head held high. He had his own secrets and demons that weighed him down and I envied how strong he could hold himself up despite it all. No one knew his demons but me. He'd been closeted for as long as I could remember. Hiding himself from a world that wouldn't understand. I knew how much it hurt him. I knew how words could wound worse than fists. I wished that I had even a fraction of his courage though. I turned towards the courtyard, craving sunlight, warmth, air. Then I rounded the corner and froze. Dominic Cruz. Nico Moretti. My heart dipped into my stomach. They were seniors. Dangerous. Untouchable. Devastatingly handsome. A cruel joke, really. Nico's family ran the Moretti Empire. Everyone knew their legitimate businesses were worth millions. Everyone also knew the rumors. Mafia. Blood. Power. Dominic was chaos incarnate. Wild. Feral. Unpredictable. Nico was colder. Controlled. Calculating. He never showed emotion where Dominic showed so much of it. Nico's eyes looked older than his age, looked older than the rest of him, like he'd seen things no one our age should ever have to witness. Welcome to the club, buddy. I stopped so abruptly that I lost my balance, and my books and things crashed, scattering across the floor. s**t. Dominics lips curved into a sinister smirk as they noticed me. "Leave me alone," I prayed silently. Please. Please. Please. Useless. "Well, look what we have here," Dominic drawled. "If it isn't the rotund Raven!" My throat closed. "Tell me, Nico," he continued. "You ever seen a fat bird fly?" Hope flickered stupidly in my chest, hoping that Nico would save me. I don't know why. He never did. He never spoke to me. Not directly. He just stared at the scene with observing eyes. Eyes that looked a little swollen and like a bruise was forming on his right one. Then Dominic lunged. He grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me forward. Nico shocked me by chuckling softly and whispering a soft, "no". His voice was melodic and I hated how much it made me shiver. Dominic's grip tightened. "Then why don't we show everyone what it looks like?" "Please," I whispered. "Oh, I like begging," Dominic sneered. "What are we begging for, birdy?" People were spilling into the hallway now, drawn by the noise. "Let's see if fat birds can fly!" Dominic shouted. Tears were starting to gather in my eyes, coating my lashes in a wet haze. Dominic squatted, pretending to attempt to lift me. He was exaggerating his struggle. I knew he was strong and I knew he benched more than I weighed. Twice more than I weighed. Laughter erupted around us and shame burned bright on my skin. "Jesus f**k!" He grunted. "You're heavy. Don't you know that isn't normal?" The chanting started. The crowd egging him on. My eyes searched for help. For a savior. They landed on Nico propped against the wall. An unreadable expression on his face. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was clenched. I pleaded to a god I no longer believed in. I wanted help. Then, Dominic managed to lift me. For a split second, I thought... maybe... then his knees buckled and I felt his stance waver. Dominic let go. I crashed to the floor, my head slamming against the tiles. Stars exploded across my vision as pain tore through me. I wheezed, sobbing. The hallways noise rose a decibel higher. Laughter and shouts. Cruel jokes and praises. No savior. No help. Just pointing fingers and looks of disgust. Dominic pointed at me, laughing about how fat I was. How he couldn't even hold me, even though I knew he could. Nico stood there with his arms crossed, not interfering. He looked at Dominic and nodded. I saw Dominic tense before a shiver ran through his body. He clenched his jaw and tucked his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. His fists were shaking and he squeezed them before he regained his composure. I tried not to pay attention to what that meant. Tears streamed down my face, no longer able to keep them in. That was when Chris ran in, carrying two trays of food. I wasn't hungry anymore though. I was sick. "Oh, look," Dominic sneered. "Even more food to sustain your fat f*****g life. Pathetic." Dominic threw an arm around a girl, and I saw Nicos' eyes flash with emotion then. Dominic walked away without a second thought. Nico passed by me and as I was trying to stand up, he kicked my hand out from underneath me. I hit the floor again. "What the hell is your problem?" Chris snapped, stepping forward. Nico's eyes darkened. Violence and danger lurking just below the surface. "Chris, don't!" I begged. "Please..." Chris froze, looking at me. It wasn't a look of pity but grief. Nico leaned down. "You should know - associate with trash and you become the trash. What will mommy and daddy think of their precious heir then?" He looked at me then. A flash of remorse crossed his face, but it was gone before I blinked. I wondered if I even saw it. He walked away then without another word. I collapsed, sobbing. Chris pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair as I cried on the cold hallway floor. That day, everything changed. Chris and I made a pact. No one would ever hurt us with their words or actions again. When we graduated it would be us against the world. I didn't know it then - but that was the beginning of everything.