Chapter 2

1362 Words
Natasha SIX MONTHS EARLIER "Do you think your dad would like this one?" Mom asks, shamelessly holding up the skimpy red lingerie in the middle of Victoria's Secret. I crinkle my nose. "Eww Mom, I don't know," I giggle, shielding my eyes. "I don't want to see anything you would wear in the bedroom with him." She responds with a dismissive wave. "Don't be like that, we're both adults. I think you should know that sometimes you have to...dress up the goods." No, I've definitely noticed. For the past six months, Mom's outfits have been getting skimpier and skimpier. I'm assuming it's to get Dad's attention since the drugs and naked women keep him too busy for his family. I actually don't mind the neglect, I don't know what she sees in him anyway. He's a controlling asshole and a dangerous criminal that kills people on a daily basis. The only plus of having a mafia lord for a father is that I get to shop whenever I want to. He's got a s**t load of money, and everyone practically bows down to him so whatever I want, I get. We walk around the rest of the mall with our two body guards following somewhere nearby. I don't know their names nor do I care, but Dad insists that they follow us everywhere like f*****g shadows. They stick out badly, like burnt crust on an otherwise perfectly baked pie. I can always pick them out in a crowd, and I'm sure others can too. "Mom, seriously?" I hiss, my face flaming with embarrassment. "They're hiding behind the plants, and you can still see them." She purses her lips to keep from laughing. "They certainly aren't doing a good job at being undercover," she murmurs. "Why do we need them anyway? We can go to the mall by ourselves," I argue. "We've talked about this, baby. It's for our safety. Your dad has a lot of dangerous enemies," she says softly. I huff. For my safety. I'm twenty years old and my dad still thinks I need constant supervision like a child. If anything, these bodyguards make me feel more like a prisoner than his daughter. "Don't you wish we had a normal life?" I ask as we continue walking towards the mall's exit. Her response is immediate. "No. When I married your father, I knew what I was getting into. He may be a little...distant, but he takes care of us." I can't help but roll my eyes. "You mean let's us use his card so we stay out of the way?" She laughs. "Well, I didn't hear any complaints when you bought that brand new Gucci bag in your hand." I don't say anything because she's right. I like buying stuff, it's all I've ever known. Every time I get stressed, or annoyed, or pissed off, I go on a shopping spree. Blowing Daddy's money is surprisingly soothing. As our driver approaches the curb with our black SUV, my phone vibrates angrily. I retrieve it from my pocket, and see that Trenton, my ex I broke up with last night, is calling for the twentieth time today. I groan audibly. "What does he want?" Mom chuckles beside me. "Is that your little boyfriend again?" "Ex," I remind her. "He cheated on me, Mom." Yesterday, one of my sworn enemies from high school sent me a video of him f*****g her. That's before he f****d three of her other friends at a house party. All together, by the way. Her tone turns serious. "Oh right. We can have your father deal with him if you'd like." My mouth gapes open in shock. "What? Mom? Are you suggesting I have him killed?" I ask incredulously. She shrugs. "I'm just saying nobody f***s with my baby and gets away with it." What a hypocrite. I watch her hurt every day over Dad's actions, but I bet she wouldn't want him to die. If she feels overprotective like that over me, how does she think I feel? "Mom, I'll meet you in the car. I'm just going to tell him to stop calling me," I tell her. "Okay," she replies, handing her handful of shopping bags to her bodyguard. "Don't take too long. I've worked up quite an appetite from all this shopping." I nod and answer Trenton's call before finding a secluded spot to speak. I opt for standing beside the bathroom, where barely anyone ever goes since public restrooms are disgusting and are only for emergencies. "What do you want, Trenton?" I hiss into the phone, already annoyed and he hasn't even started his bullshit excuses yet. "I want you back, babe. Whatever Jessica told you was a lie-" he begins, but I can't let him finish. "So you didn't have s*x with her and her friends at that party?" I interrupt sharply. He's silent for a beat. "I mean...I did, but I had a lot of alcohol and Rick brought coke-" "So that's your f*****g excuse for cheating on me? You participated in a whole orgy, Trenton!" I shout, maybe too loudly. Good thing no one's around. "I know, babe. It was an accident, I'm so sorry!" he exclaims in that sad puppy tone he always uses to try to manipulate me into forgiving him. But this time, I'm not buying the bullshit he's selling. "I don't care about your apologies anymore, Trenton," I retort, my voice laced with bitterness. "I'm so done with you and all the cheating, parties, and drugs. You can go be someone else's problem!" As I speak, I notice my bodyguard peering out from the corner, and my frustration reaches its boiling point. "For f**k's safe, this is a private conversation. Go wait in the car!" I scream, misdirecting my anger at him. The man's eyes widen before he scrambles away, finally leaving me alone to end things with Trenton once and for all. "Trent, I mean it this time. Don't call me. Don't text me anymore. We've over!" My voice rings out, drowned out by the sudden eruption of a deafening explosion. It sounds close. Too close. I rush around the corner of the mall's exterior, only to witness our car engulfed in a roaring blaze of fire. No. It can't be. "Mom!" I scream in horror, dropping my phone on the sidewalk. With my heart hammering in my chest like a relentless drum, I sprint towards the inferno, running as fast as my legs can carry me. As I draw closer, dread grips me like a vice. There, lying lifeless on the sidewalk, are our two bodyguards, bullet holes in the center of their heads. Terror courses through my veins as the harsh reality sets in: we've been targeted, and I'm left utterly alone. Damn it. I need to call help. There's a chance Mom is still alive in there! Panic surges as I realize I've dropped my phone. "s**t!" I hiss, my throat constricted. "I need to call Dad." Turning to find my phone, a firm hand clamps down on my arm, sending shockwaves of fear through me. Whirling around, I confront a man in a black ski mask, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. "Where are you going, princess?" he sneers in a sickly-sweet voice. "Who are you?" I whisper, trying to back away, but his grip tightens. "Come on, D. The police will be here in less than two minutes!" barks another masked figure, urgency coloring his words. Whoever the hell D is, begins to drag me towards their car as I scream bloody murder, desperately pleading for them to let me go. People stand around, their faces twisted in horror, but not a single person dares to step in and help me. With each agonizing moment, I'm pulled further away from the burning wreckage of the car, where I last saw my mother. The flames continue to dance ominously, filling the air with smoke and death. Little did I know, as I was being forced into the car, that the trauma of the next three nights would leave scars both seen and unseen, irrevocably changing the course of my life.
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