The Vengeful Mafia’s Reluctant Bride

The oatmeal landed on my plate with a splat and I scrunched my nose as I stared down at it. I hate the smell of it and I most especially hate the taste of it but that was the only breakfast option we have. It has been this way for the past seven years. My feet moved forward to the bread stand; empty, the cook that usually served the bread, missing. Of course, what should I have expected from this place? Moving forward again, I took one milk from the cooler, grabbed a spoonful of raisins and poured over my oatmeal and made my way to my assigned dining table. “Here,” Trey passed me a slice of bread as I sat down. “I stole one when Hannah wasn’t looking.” I furrowed my brows at him as I took it and bit into it. I hated oatmeal and the bread was the only thing that kept my nausea down. “How did you ‘steal’ it? Hannah is the only person that has access to the bread.” “I have my ways.” He winked at me. “And, I saw you far back in the line and I knew the bread was bound to finish before it got to your turn.” A bright smile took over my face, my eyes sparkling in gratitude. “So you love me, huh?” “You wish.” I knew he was lying, Trey loved me just as I did him. We came into the orphanage on the same day, while I couldn’t remember how I came to be, I remembered he was dropped off by his aunt who ‘didn’t have the resources to take care of him.’ I remember the day his aunt left him outside the directors office where I was seated while having a conversation with Director Odd. He was seven, I was five. Trey was bawling his eyes out, I didn’t understand what was going on but I offered him the chocolate in my pocket and since then, we became as thick as thieves. “Do you think we will get adopted today?” I had managed to stuff all the oatmeal down my throat and was nibbling on my bread. Trey shrugged, “you, maybe. Me,ne-” “Trey McAllister, please report to the field immediately.” Director Odd’s voice came from the mounted speakers. The field? I looked at Trey and saw him biting his tongue. He usually does that when he’s nervous, or angry. Or knows something that I don’t. “Trey,” I tried to grab his hand but he took it off my reach. He kept his head down as he packed up his half eaten breakfast. “Trey, what is going on? Talk to me. Why are you being sent to the field?” Without looking up, Trey carried his tray and left the table. He dumped his food in the trash and walked out the door leaving me with questions biting in my chest. I wanted to run after him, I wanted to know if he was alright but I couldn’t. I was not allowed to leave, the refectory till breakfast was over and if I did, Matron wouldn’t hesitate in spanking me till my ass was sore. Just as Trey left, Matron walked in with a man in a blue suit trailing behind. That was odd. We have had visitations like that but the children were usually complete and seated around their assigned table, no child had been exempted before. So why was Trey? The formerly noisy refectory has quieted down. Nobody wanted to anger Matron but I was determined to know what had happened with Trey. So I stood up and raised my hand. The man in the blue suit narrowed his eyes at me, as if examining me. He turned to Matron and whispered something in her ears. I saw Matron’s eyes widen for a second before shaking her head vigorously. She whispered back to the man in a blue suit and tried to hold his hand but he shook her hand off and walked to me. Bending over slightly, he asked. “Is there a problem, little miss?” His deep voice travelled down my spine and shook my organs. I had never heard a voice as deep as his. That close, I took a closer look at him; his eyes were dark, so dark they were almost black. He kept a clean face except the little mound on his jaw, his nose is pointed but he has long nostrils. I swallowed thickly. “Trey McAllister, why was called out?” “Your friend?” He dragged the R in his words. I couldn’t place where his accent was from but I was certain it wasn’t from around. “Your friend has-” “A session with Director Odgers.” Matron yelled from behind him. He turned his face briefly to look at her and turned back to me. “What is your name, little miss?” “Yvonne. Yvonne Michaels.” I answered, my eyes darting between blue suit and Matron. He chuckled lightly. “You don’t even know your name?” I began to feel all eyes in the refectory on me, the intensity of their gaze burning through me. “I know my name, my name is Yvonne Michaels." “Of course.” He assumed his full height. “You don’t too bad, you have the weight perfect for a bride. Your father would be proud.” I looked down at myself, my shirt hung loosely on my tiny frame. My collarbones were visible and my arms greatly thin. The clothes I had five years ago still fit perfectly, only I chose to give them out instead of wearing them. So why did he say I ‘don’t look too bad’? And bride? What was he talking about? I am twelve, nowhere near marriageable age. Is blue suit sane? ‘Your father would be proud’ ‘Your father would be proud’ The words echoed in my head in a succession and my head jerked up at him. “My father? Did you know my Father?” “Well, Of course. He was-” The bells went off through the speakers and all the kids began hustling out of the refectory, turning the once quiet place rowdy. “The bell was for you too, Yvonne.” Matron said as she inched close to Blue suit. “But he was about to..” “He was just about to leave.” Matron hooked her hand around Blue suit’s arm and dragged him behind her as she stormed out of the refectory leaving me confused. Later that night, after the lights were out, I snuck out of my bed and tiptoed to Trey’s bed. I had not seen him throughout the day. On reaching his bed, Trey’s bed and cubicle was empty. Trey was gone.