The Mafia's Mercy

’t that they didn’t understand the gravity of their poor decision making. The problem was that while they un

ife doesn't real

ople who can't pay off the

of those people? Well…I won't tell you

son of their deceased clients, they turn him into like them, and his sister becomes the girl tha

loneliness beco

elf a useless Bachelor of Science in Mathematics degree w

ive and a half years. When they're ready for the little girl that they weren't i

o land you behind bars, but it's kinda hard to incriminate someone who d

She had no idea she’d be taken by the man who told her he

rcy Carter—and I am

afia’s

onna

ts incessant ticking reminds

al, and though I've taken Adderall three times this week already, a part of me knew tha

staring at, I wrap up, closing my exam sheet and gathering my belongings. I feel my heart at m

warm smile, knowing that despite my hesitation, I mor

sure that he means well, but God,

fer him a half-hearted smile

easy as getting through Kindergarten all the way through until I graduated high school. With a whopping 3.8 GPA, I graduated with my ma

higher education and graduated. All of which hardly means anything, seeing as

an hour past 8 o’clock, and I’m more relieved at the fact that this is the last night class

ke the first open seat that I could find. The earbuds in my hands quickly find their way into my ears, and in t

ith my hoodie over my head and my backpack hanging off my shoulder. Being on the first floor of my

it’s perfect for a young woman with

I coul

I went, so long as my brother showed up in the nick of time, any and all friends I made slowly but surely stopped being my friend

faucet on. Small shadows paint the bags under my hazel eyes, and the blush from the chilly December weather that redden

for what feels like ten years now, which I’m sure

le. It feels good against my eyelids, and as I allow the water to slip from between my fingers, I rub my hands d

ide my bed, taking the small metal box and lighter resting atop of it. From my hand, the towel

ep out onto the concrete floor, I bring my unoccupied hand to meet the top of the metal box an

financial aid pays my bills. So every Friday evening, I com

sier th

Swiftly, I place the roll between my lips and light it, inhaling a quick and short breath.

shut as I exhale slowly to the beat of

e you,

of the sound of my brother

moved to this small colleg

yesterday, and it’s been the on

ouch in the living room, watching my favorite episode from The Office for the third time that week. With an empty bo

ut I kept pretending that it wasn’t. I pretended that the

I

hool to work and pay the bills. He refused to let me help. He said I’d make something of myself some day. He said

d

who was responsible for our parents’ death. What he thought I didn’t know was that that man only l

ills

f my throat. It’s enough to settle my nerves, but it’s hardly enough to st

appened

ael arguing in the Dinner Party, and the ne

rose to his. He harshly took my arm into his hold and dragged me into his bedro

nger at my face, his hazel eyes darkening as he

ious, and

do something he warned me not to—which was always.

he door, and just before walking out, he

I saw him—the last

id the only thing he eve

later, I’m still doing it: