The Mafia's Mute Wife

Some things happen and make you feel all messed up and quiet, like, you don’t even have words anymore. When my dad made them kill my mom six whole months ago, I didn’t get a single word left. Words didn’t help, didn’t make me feel safe. They felt like trouble, so I just picked being quiet instead. For all these months, I haven’t said one word. Not to my bro, not to my best friend, not even to me in my head at night when it’s all dark. Since that morning I woke up in some hospital from the car crash that took Mom, I stayed locked up in this quiet world. At first, it was just shock, plain and simple, trying to figure out what happened. One awful night, I lost both my mom and my dad, ‘cept my dad wasn’t in the car—he was as gone to me as she was. I knew he caused it. He’s why she’s gone—the person who meant, like, everything to me. Losing her was like a big hole, too deep to fix. And with all that emptiness came something new, a hot, mad feeling, all aimed at the man who was supposed to keep me safe. But instead, he took everything. But bein’ mad was like holding a little, fragile thing that might break loose if I said anything. So I stayed shut up, hoping he’d never feel what I knew. Stayin’ quiet wasn’t hard. The bruises on my neck from the seat belt and’ the doctors sayin’ “trauma” made it easy. Dad bought it, too, and took me home, locked up in this new quiet house. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. The one time I got to feel sorta free was when I got my morning coffee. Just one time a day, I could leave Dad’s house, always with Umberto, the guard who followed me around. But he waited outside the café now, leavin' me to my quiet. Each morning, I’d think, maybe I could run, just go off into the city. But I couldn’t leave my lil’ brother, though. He thought Dad was all great and stuff, all innocent. I couldn’t get him to come with me if I tried. So I kept waiting. Kept hopin'. "Hey, Aria, the usual?" said the old lady at the café, all friendly-like. She and the other folks knew I didn’t talk, so they just talked extra to fill up the space. I nodded, paid, and took my spot by the window. I liked reading my book. My phone was watched, so books were my only escape. Just a few pages in, a voice low n' deep came up behind me. "You shouldn’t be so predictable, y'know." My heart did this weird skip, and even though I didn’t look back, I got curious. Who was talking to me? I turned around n’ my breath got all stuck. His eyes were super blue, intense n’ kinda scary, like bright fish lights in the dark, pretty but dangerous. How’d he know my routine? If he had been here before, I would have seen him, ‘cause he was hard to miss, like he belonged somewhere people just listen to him or get scared. He looked like he’d been watching me. But why? How’d I not notice? I went back to my book, hopin’ he’d leave me alone. “But maybe you’re not so predictable after all,” he said again. I just kept my eyes on my book, actin’ like he wasn’t there, but I kinda knew he wasn’t the type to give up easily. "Most girls with books read about fairy tales and love stories," he said, like he knew all about it. "But that's not what you're readin', is it?" He was right. It was a mystery, all dark and twisty like my own thoughts. The romance felt too far away. I thought about writing somethin' to end this whole chat, just explain my silence, but instead, I wrote somethin’ different: Is it so wrong to believe people could just be nice? I pushed it his way, challengin’ him without meaning to. He just smirked, like he’d been waiting for it. “It’s silly to think people are decent,” he said, cool-like. “I think we’re all just wild animals inside, deep down.” I kinda wanted to write back, “Speak for yourself,” and I did. A shadow crossed his face. “Believe me, I am. There’s nothing nice in me.” Before I could react, he got up and went to get my coffee n’ bagel from the counter, puttin’ it in front of me. He wiped a bit of cream cheese off his thumb with this weird grin before he left. “Enjoy your breakfast,” he said, then turned away. I just stared, feelin’ all weird. How’d he know me? After he left, I sat there, my mind all jumbled up. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that this guy somehow knew me, like he saw past my silence and my scribbles. It was kinda creepy, but also... kinda exciting. Weird. Then I looked out the café window, and there he was, almost like he was waiting for something. And that’s when Umberto, my guard, noticed him too. He looked mad, like really mad, and started walkin’ right toward him. I thought, “Oh boy, here we go.” Before I knew it, they were face-to-face. But the strange guy didn’t even flinch; he just smirked, like he’d been through this a hundred times. Then, bam! Out of nowhere, he swung at Umberto! It all happened so fast that Umberto just hit the ground, out cold. I gasped, watching from inside, and I could feel my heart racing. The stranger looked back at me through the window, giving me this calm, serious look that made me shiver. Then, he just melted into the crowd and was gone, like a ghost. For a second, I thought, Run! This is your chance. But then I thought of Mario, my little brother. Could I really leave him? I went outside and knelt beside Umberto, trying to shake him awake. He muttered something as he came to, his face all bruised and cranky. “Where’d he go?” he grumbled, holding his face. “Don’t worry about it,” I mumbled, feeling like I’d just had a brush with something... dangerous, but thrilling. I helped Umberto up, feeling everyone’s eyes on me as we headed back to the car.