A Mafia Thing

Chapter Three

    I snorted, falling onto the opposite side of the couch. I crossed my legs on the seat, placing a pillow over my lap as well. “First, I want to start out by having you save all questions until the end.” She furrowed her eyebrows together, but nodded. “Second, I don’t want your pity. I've had enough pity thrown my way my entire life, I don't need anymore. Also, I know I’m going to sound crazy. And lastly, save your judgements for yourself, I don’t want to hear them. Deal?”

    Her eyebrows were still bunched together but she nodded again, “okay, deal.”

    “As you know I was in foster care my entire life after I turned seven.” I let out a soft sigh. I hadn’t even gotten to anything important yet and I was already feeling raw and vulnerable. “When I was in eighth grade I was placed with a new family, one that lived on the poor side of a really nice town outside of the city. To the outside world the family was perfect— loving husband, caring wife. Two saintly adults giving foster children a chance at a good life.” An ugly chuckle bubbled out of my throat.

    Brooke looked as if she was about to ask a question but I shook my head, indicating that it wasn’t time for that. I continued, “there were twelve kids in the home when I moved in. Of course, social services didn’t know that, or they didn’t care. That was too many people for their four bedroom house. Instead they had us sleep in the basement. They lined the walls with bunk beds and even installed a makeshift bathroom down there. Coming from a house that was a lot worse, I wasn’t about to complain to my social worker, plus I doubt she would have looked into it, anyway.”

    Brooke was actively frowning now but I kept going. Hell, this wasn’t even the painful part of the story. “At the end of eighth grade my teacher had me take an IQ test. I wasn’t a genius but I scored high enough to gain acceptance into a very prestigious high school. This school was privately owned and only accepted incredibly wealthy students. I wasn’t one of them, but every year the school took in a few ‘charity cases’. Kids that were academically on par with the other students but that couldn’t afford the school otherwise. I was the perfect candidate. No criminal record, high marks in school— hell, I looked like I belonged there.”

    My chest was now heaving up and down. “The first year was bad. I’ve always been a loner, reserved and quiet. I still am.” I gave Brooke a pointed look. “I was bullied by just about everyone in my grade. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? Compared to the others I was trash. Orphan girl that couldn’t even afford the schools lunch? I was a joke and they reminded me of that everyday.”

    I took a calming breath. “Even with the name calling, being pushed around, shoved in lockers, I survived my first year. I even had high marks in all of my classes. So of course, they brought me back again sophomore year. That year was hell.” I looked down at the pillow in my lap, picking at invisible lint. “A lot of the other kids backed off realizing that taunting me or small physical violence wasn’t effecting me. They gave up. There were a couple of kids though, they saw that as a challenge.”

    I looked up at Brooke, needing her to see the pain in my eyes. She did, she sucked in her bottom lip in response. “The girls that wanted to break me started getting rougher. Slapping me, punching me, knocking me to the ground and kicking me until I couldn’t breathe.” I grimaced at the memory. “A few times I was thrown in the dumpster behind the school. The boys thought it was hilarious. After all I was trash, right? That stopped after they threw me into an empty dumpster and I split my head open when I hit the metal bottom, earning a concussion.”

    I clipped my head from side to side, trying to get the sound of their laughter out of my head as I laid at the bottom of the dumpster. The feeling of blood pooling under my head.

    “After that they stopped for a couple of weeks. I think they were worried about getting caught.” I lied. It didn’t stop, if anything it got worse. I didn’t narc after the dumpster incident so they got more viscous. I was pushed down the stairs, jumped in the bathroom, someone held my head in the pool until I nearly lost consciousness. I spared Brooke those details. “Then a guy in my class asked me out. He was cute and somewhat popular. I was so freaking excited. It was the first time someone was actually being nice to me at that school.”

    “Aww.” Brooke had unshed tears in her eyes, but suddenly she perked up by the promise of a newfound love interest for old me.

    “That’s what I thought too.” I smiled down at my lap, wringing my hands together. “He told some girls off after they knocked my books out of my hands. He started eating with me at lunch, teaming up with me for school projects. It was the first time I felt happy at that school. Like, no matter what anyone said or did, he made it better.” Tears slipped down my face, landing on the pillow on my lap. I hadn’t thought about all of this in so long. Normally it was small bits and pieces. I would have these brief flashbacks, or random nightmares but not all of it at once. It was like a red hot fire poker jamming inside of me. Every word burned.

    “Then one day I waited for him after school. He had football practice, so it was well after the other students had gone home. Most of the teachers were gone, too. He kissed me for the first time that day. We weren’t actually dating so I was surprised. My first real kiss.” A lump of emotion lodged itself in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, but it wouldn’t budge. “The kiss became more demanding, but I kept going. He liked me, right? He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.” My jaw tightened at my own words. “He started reaching his hand up my shirt. I’d push it down, I wasn’t ready for more than kissing, but he’d slip it back under. He wouldn’t stop. I pushed him off and tried to leave but that just pissed him off.”

    A quiet whimper came from Brooke, she was choking back a silent sob. She knew where this was going, or she thought she did.

    “He grabbed me around my throat and slammed me back into the lockers. I tried to get away from him but he trapped my hands above my head. I screamed, someone had to still be around to hear me. He slapped me, hard, my lip split open and I was seeing stars. He tore my shirt and I couldn’t even do anything but cry.”

    “Sam, you can stop. I get it. I get it now.” She crawled across the couch, taking my trembling hand in hers. “I’m so sorry.”

    “Believe it or not, it gets better.” I couldn’t help the chuckle that came out. If I were Brooke I would have thought it was sarcasm, but it wasn’t. “Before anything else could happen the guy was thrown off of me. I fell to the ground but the next thing I knew, someone else was beating the s**t out of him. Once my attacker was knocked out, the other guy helped me to my feet. He sat me down at a table in the cafeteria and got a first aide kit. He patched up my lip and even drove me home.” My heart was slamming against my chest.

    Leon.

    The memory of him was the painful part. The physical attacks? I could heal from those. The torment? It was nothing compared to what he'd done. Leon was the one that destroyed me. He left me broke beyond repair.

    “It was crazy because he was a senior. Hell, he wasn’t even just any senior. He was the guy all the girls wanted. All the guys respected him. He was gorgeous and dangerous. Think of the ultimate bad boy. Plus, at a school of rich kids he was among the wealthiest.”

    My explanation to Brooke wasn’t doing him justice. Leon had it all, and then some. He was a lean, muscular work of art. I swear his body was sculpted. That’s the only explanation there was for it. It wasn’t just that he was physically attractive, though. There was so much more to him. Leon could walk into any room and automatically everyone would look at him. His presence alone demanded attention. It wasn’t even just from other students, teachers and parents sensed it, too. The air around him screamed power, authority and danger. It was an intoxication combination and one that I’ve never seen again. He may have been in high school but I’d seen enough grown adults do whatever he told them to. He was that commanding.

    “I thought he did it out of pity, but I was amazed when he sat with me at lunch the next day and everyday after that. Everyone was shocked. I was trash according to them, but he was choosing me. At first everyone gave me hell, saying it was just a joke or he was just trying to get laid. A group of guys even claimed he was just doing it because they had dared him to. I started to believe it until one day someone said it in front of him at lunch and he stood up and punched the guy in the face. He knocked him out in front of everyone— including the principal.”