The Runaway Daughter of the Yakuza

That's what I think it is like, thinking for myself. Ever since I was young, I was taught to obey those above me. Regardless of my name and orientation, I was viewed as a Yakuza. I never really thought about life. I hated being a Yakuza; it wasn't worth the bloodshed, the pain, the thrill. It was pure hell and poison. One look at me, and everyone knew I was the daughter of Richard Everson, the infamous Yakuza leader of Bono, Japan. No one in their right mind would challenge my stern, cold-hearted father. No one but I. I remember the look on his face when I turned down the offer to become the heiress and take over the family business. He wasn't happy. I knew he wouldn't be. I wasn't going to lead that life and put fear in the eyes of the people I grew so caring towards. The Yakuza never cares about others' perspectives, feelings, or what other people think. That's where I am viewed as weak. I took after my deceased mother, Victoria Everson. She was so beautiful. A woman of fair skin, with long black hair that had a beach wave curl to it. Those eyes of hers were perfect, a lime green sheen so flawless that your soul was ensnared by one glance. Her figure was the envy of all the girls. Not too big, not too small, she was perfect. I'm always seen as weak for taking after her. My father reminded me of that every day when I lived in Bono. It was an old town with a small population of a mere 900 people. The old town was built like it was straight out of a western. You'd see saloons, churches, schools, a sheriff's house and jail, and a hill for the deceased. It was a weird old town, but it was home to me. I used to perform at saloons, yeah, the daughter of the Yakuza would sing and flirt with people. I didn't care. I never relied on my dad's power or influence to make a living. I was special. More special than my dad's mistress, Kate Evelyn. I hated her; she made me sick with her appearance. She had dark brown hair, dark skin, and piercing brown eyes. Her figure was not as flawless as my mother's; it was burned and cracked from the expensive surgery she had to look young. She stole my dad away from my mother, which ultimately led to my parents' divorce when I was just eleven. Regardless of the pain, I felt strong. My mother never left me but held me close. She stayed and endured the abuse with me. After their divorce, my father never viewed me as his daughter anymore. I was just a means to an end to get more followers and heirs. Just a year after the divorce, on my twelfth birthday, my mother died from the abuse at the hands of my father. I saw that hole thing hidden away in the closet. The eyes of my father, while he held my mom, were terrifying. He always had red eyes, but his dark, cold, lifeless look showed what he felt. He beat my mother to death and left her there for me to find. A cruel reminder that I will always be an Everson. Always be a Yakuza. No matter where I run, I will always be one flesh and blood. Soul and heart belong to that disgusting name. I'd do anything to be born into a different family. I wanted Enji Frankfurt to never be connected to the Yakuza but to a wealthy family. He was the enemy of my family. I, however, never cared. I wanted him. I loved him. Desired him. It was always so much for me to bear. I'd go back in time and tell him that I loved him before I ran away from high school. However, I had to deal with the fact that he was now married and had three kids. I doubt he'd remember me or even feel the same as I still do. I wanted nothing more than to run to him and tell him how I truly felt. How I deeply wished to be his bride and to bear his children. It wasn't in my right; however, I knew that those feelings I had in high school were possibly fleeting emotions that would soon subside and eventually come to an end. I deserved this for not telling Enji how I truly felt. I didn't deserve him, though. I refused to let him join me in the Yakuza world because of the dangers and the enemies that would befall him. I wish I could have had the courage to tell him my true feelings. I regret it now more than ever, more than running away from my bloodline and job occupation. Being a Yakuza isn't something I wanted to be for the rest of my life; I hated the very thought of being one. It was already a headache remembering how many times I was badgered for even the smallest of things by either my father, Richard Everson, or his b***h of a mistress, Kate Evelyn. I hated them both and was glad I left when I had the chance. I ran away and decided to do things my way. I fled back to my high school location and went to college to study medicine and criminal justice so I could finally get revenge on my father once and for all. No one stopped me this time, not my father, not the Yakuza, no one but the will of God can now. I earned my degree after four years of college. It was worth the pain, but one thing that wasn't worth it was raising my son Arthur alone. Yes, you heard it right, I have a pretty boy named Arthur. His father was none other than the man I deeply love. Enji Frankfurt was the father of my son, Arthur. We were fools back then, though. We got drunk at our post-graduation party and ended up sleeping together. I remembered that night well. It was seared in my brain like nobody's business. He was so handsome, with such broad, strong arms and shoulders. I loved him deeply, not for his body but for himself. He was perfect, with dark skin and blue eyes that mirrored the ocean; his long red hair, at the time, was beautiful and lush. I could gaze at him all day, the night we got drunk wasn't uncommon either, there were many wasted and doing things that night. He had followed me to another room I wanted to brood in, and he sat beside me. Our eyes locked hard upon one another. Emerald green meets ocean blue in a matter of seconds, if not a fraction of that second. I felt my breathing halt in my throat as we locked for what seemed like forever before I heard him speak. He was drunk; I could tell by the way he spoke and moved. They were hazed and slowed so much that it almost made me giggle. He spoke hard and roughly; his voice was harsh, sexy, and deep. I got chills every time he spoke to me in high school. “Lydia….don’t avoid me…gazing at me,” he spoke, slurred and heavy, as his eyes locked with mine, and he grabbed my face to stare at him more clearly. “Lydia….notice me…speak to me..what is wrong with you.” I didn’t answer. How could I be back then? I felt so out of place in his presence; he was so much better than I was in so many ways. He wanted to become someone more than he wanted to be me. He had goals and dreams, while I, at the time, was stuck under my dad’s authority. I inhaled and couldn’t move. I just gazed before I spoke in such a soft tone that I never knew I could do. “Enji…I’m not trying to avoid anyone. I'm just trying to keep my distance…I have secrets that I can’t reveal. They can become deadly like a snake towards an innocent animal,” I was so scared as I spoke to him that I feared if I revealed anything about my blood being that of Yakuza, would he have held me like he was now? Would he abandon me? I didn’t have the answer, nor did I wish to ask. “For tonight….please don’t leave me…hold me like you are now Enji…embrace me as I desire…” We were blurred before we knew the wine we had ingested became our fuel for the forbidden flame. I don’t know who made the first move, nor did I truly want to know. Our lips crashed in a heated dance of tongues and pants. It was powerful in evoking emotions and desires. It was like the roof came down upon us to kill us. We let go of everything and gave in to the passion we felt. I felt his breath mingle with mine; we sounded so out of breath, like we'd run a marathon, when truly we hadn’t. Our bodies collided like a train hitting its brakes on the tracks to avoid flipping. My hands met his shoulders, tugging and yanking his clothes as we became heated. Our clothes soon met the ground as my bra was removed from the bed. I saw his lustful gaze meet my double D-cupped breasts bounce free. My slender frame was model-like I had taken great care of my body. I wanted to use my frame and appearance to win the heart of the man who freed me from my father’s rule. Our moans were deafening; they were so loud to us, but at the same time not. The bed creaked hard under his force; the pain of losing my virginity was as painful as I thought. It was heaven to feel him take me like a beast. I was in heaven’s bliss under his touch. It wasn’t gentle; it was hard and rough. I was grateful he stole my innocence that night. I couldn’t forget his embrace as I held him, screaming his name, when I hit my limit repeatedly. It was a ride that won’t ever be forgotten in my mind. His breathing as he lost himself in my body, the feel of his warmth, all of it was mine at the time. I was foolish; I should have known what I felt was a fleeting emotion. When I came back, I saw him with a wedding band on Enji's ring finger and felt the instant ice consume my soul. I knew I had lost my chance to be with him. Everything blurred in my mind, and I saw nothing but red when I saw him laughing with his friends. I knew it was over before it began, and now I had to protect Arthur from the horrible truth of his birth. Arthur was so young and helpless, wanting an empty promise of a father figure. I was walking around the police station before being sent out to patrol. I wore my dark blue uniform. My large, double-D-cupped breasts popped hard on the top of the button-up. My tight pants showed off my birthing hips so well in the tight outfit. I was taller now than then. I had my long, black, curly hair in a high ponytail as I walked the streets. My heart thudded hard in my chest. I knew what my body knew. I couldn’t hide the bitterness I felt for the woman who took him away from me. I hated myself for not being honest with what I felt. My body despised it all. Nothing was fair, but I endured to be able to smile. I wish I could go back and get it under control, but the ice had already taken root in my once-vibrant warmth. I was heartless, but now I'm defending my son so he won’t break as I did. My precious son is in high school, working to attend college. I don’t want him to think he was a burden when he was a blessing. I dreaded this patrol, fearing I might run into his father. I don't want to run into Enji Frankfurt; my poor heart won’t take it. I only pray he won’t see me. I doubt he recognizes me. I changed over the years; my once slender shoulders were buff and broad from training. I underwent many things while I was away from him. I was broken beyond repair now. Nothing can mend my broken heart now. Nothing but my son Arthur. I hated myself so much that I wished it wasn’t real. Wasn’t there but a faint stab and not a piercing dagger in my heart.