Mafially Yours

17

Elena

I wasn't going to take for granted the good time that I had up the hill a few hours ago with Huncho, but being back in this bed, alone, under my father's portrait brought me back to the terror I tried to run away from.

I couldn't sleep all night. We went back home around 5:00 AM, and when I decided that I wasn't going to sleep, it was 11:00 AM. Every time I would close my eyes, I would hear something that would startle me and get me wide awake. I didn't feel safe. I felt like any time someone was going to walk in the room, point a gun at my head, and tell me that he was going to kill me because he hated Dad.

I huffed and stared at the ceiling that I learned by heart. I didn't want to get out of bed. My body was too exhausted to function. But I didn't stay alone for long. Before I could realize it, the door was open. I widened my eyes, but when they met Huncho's, my body relaxed.

"Relax, who would it be?" He smirked, walking closer to the bed.

"Maybe knock next time," I rolled my eyes.

"How do you feel?" He walked past my bed to the sitting area in front of the windows.

"Miserable. I didn't sleep all night." I sat down in bed, watching his every move. His eyes switched to me.

"Why?"

"Because I feel like, abruptly, someone is going to walk in and kill me."

He sighed, as if what I said wasn't what he expected, or wasn't a big deal for him.

"Come," he adjusted himself in the seat, pulling his chain outside of his black crewneck.

I sighed and got up. I sat on the couch in front of him and crossed my arms. He reached into his pocket, took out something, and handed it to me, "I fixed your necklace."

My heart fluttered, and my eyes sparkled. I looked at his hand and took my necklace from his hand, caressing the three letters of my name.

"How is Elena Nana?"

I giggled at his comment and tried to swallow the gulp that locked my throat.

"What do you mean? Elena? Nana?" I closed my palm on the necklace, feeling like my father was giving it to me all over again. His eyes were watching me like an interesting movie as I put my necklace on. I looked down at it and then smiled at him, "Thank you."

He nodded, closing his eyes and giving me a small smile. He leaned closer to the table, looking up at me, "Elena– what do I keep telling you?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I know I shouldn't be scared and that it is hard for someone to get in here. I know. But it's still– hard." I looked up at him.

His eyes were full of words of comfort, but I was the only one talking, "I–I feel like someone would walk into the room, any minute, and shoot me like they shot my father."

He blinked.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see his body. I see his gray face. I see his open eyes and his still body." My heart was aching as these words unconsciously made their way out of my mouth. My eyes were watering, but I held my tears prisoner, refusing to let them show my pain even if my mouth gave it away.

"Elena," the softness of his voice traveled from my eyes to my heart, down my spine, bringing comfort to every part of my body. "No one is going to touch you, as long as I am living." His eyes didn't leave mine, "I mean it, Elena. As long as I am alive, no one will be able to hurt you." He repeated the same sentence he tells me everytime and somehow every time he says those words, it feels like a spell traveling down my bones and numbs them.

His eyes stayed focused on me, making sure that I believed him, making sure that I felt better. I nodded. I was honest, he did make me feel better. He made me feel safe. He assured me that he would keep me safe. His eyes then left me and looked behind me. I knew by the way his eyes changed that he saw that my father's picture wasn't straight and knew that I had done something to it.

He let out a long sigh and then looked down.

"Elena,"

I looked away, knowing exactly what he was going to talk about.

"He didn't have a choice." He knew that I understood who he was talking about without mentioning him. "I know you're probably mad at him, and I understand. But I want you to understand that he didn't have a choice. He got kicked out of the medical company where he worked. For no damn reason. And all his friends at that time were taking drugs." He adjusted himself on the bed, licked his lips, then carried on, "Then, one of his close friends died."

I blinked, having flashes of walking in on my father crying a few years ago over his friend. When I asked him, he said that he died and that he loved him so much. He also told me that he felt like he could have helped him, but didn't do anything. My heart shattered at the memories.

"He felt like he needed to do something about it. So to prevent people from dying because of drugs, he created a "healthy" drug, I guess you could call it." He crossed his arms together, gathering his thoughts. "he bought this house and created a lab inside of it, the one you saw.

Then started to try multiple things to make the effect anyone who takes the drugs would want, but at the same time, it wasn't badly affecting the body, it wasn't addictive." He shook his head, "he didn't do it with bad intentions."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I simply asked.

"Because I–I don't want you to hate your father."

"Why?"

He was taken aback by my question but gave me a few seconds of silence to think of a logical answer. But this silence made me believe that he doesn't even know why he is telling me all of this.

"I guess because I loved him."

His eyes locked with mine, digging inside mine to make sure that his lie was well-fed. Maybe everyone thinks that when someone avoids eye contact, it means that they are lying. But it is not true. Keeping eye contact is a method to force the lie down my throat, and it is also a way for him to see if I believe his lies or not.

He suddenly got up, not liking the feeling of being unsure if I believed him or not.

"Get down in five. We will all eat together."

I was torn between being mad at my father and forgiving him. I was torn between wanting to blame him for everything and missing him. My heart was never able to get mad at him. Even the times I acted mad, he was able to make it up to me, making me happier than ever. I sighed and got up, facing his picture. Looking into his eyes already made me feel better. I wished I could see him again to talk to him.

"Tell me what to do," I whispered, talking to him used to always make me feel better. "Maybe I wouldn't have been that mad if you told me." I stared at him, not sure if I had taken it better or worse than at that moment. I took a deep breath, fixed his picture, and gave him a small smile, "I miss you."

"

"Elena," Fred called my name as soon as I stepped into the dining room. This was my first time being in this room. It was vast but busy with a big dining table and some chairs. "Can you call Huncho? He's outside with Vanessa."

My heart sank as soon as I heard the name, but I tried to hide my reaction. I simply nodded and walked away. "In the backyard," Fred yelled at me again as I left the room. Many questions attacked my head all at once.

Is that his girlfriend?

I've been here for a while. Why did I never see her?

I should have asked Fred who Vanessa was.

Or is she just a girl that he knows? Maybe someone who helps him with the drugs.

Does she live here, too?

Does he love her?

Is she okay with me being here and him keeping me safe?