Mafia's Desire

11

It seemed like Eloise was ignoring me and I wasn't sure why. After I had gone over to her house last week, I went back two days later. Everything had been seemingly normal between us. We got along great as usual.  We texted daily and talked on the phone some.

After that though, it seemed like suddenly she wanted nothing to do with me. She wouldn't answer my texts. I tried calling her once to let her know a book that she had mentioned was in at the store, but she declined my call.

I grabbed my phone and pulled her contact up.

'Eloise, I'm sorry if I've done something to upset you. Could you please let me know what I did?'

A few minutes after I sent the text, I got a reply.

'Hi, Anna. I've had a great time with you over these last few months you've been in town. Unfortunately, I'm not in a position to be a friend right now. I hope you can understand.'

My heart broke as I read her message. My life seemed to be a continuous cycle of disappointments, no matter how much I tried to run from them.

What had I done to warrant this? I thought we were becoming good friends.

I turned my phone off and rolled over in my bed. I didn't seem to be good enough for anybody.

My husband only used me to satisfy his sexual needs. Coworkers never seemed to notice the bruises marking my body. Ermanno was disgusted at the thought of going on a date with me. Eloise didn't want anything to do with me anymore.

What was wrong with me? What had I done in my life to be so undesirable? For fucks sake, my own family decided to get themselves killed, leaving me here all alone.

My heart seemed like it had skipped a beat as I thought of my family. I had been so preoccupied these last two months, trying to stay hidden from Michael and building a life for walnut and me, that I hadn't thought of them in some time.

Guilt spread through me like a forest fire. My family was dead and I had thought of them maybe twice in the last two months because I was too concerned with my own issues.

A tear slipped down my cheek as I recalled what happened that night. I was eighteen, sitting at home waiting for my parents and my younger brother to return home from dinner.

I didn't go with them. Instead, I had gone out with Michael. On their way home, just ten minutes shy of safely walking through the front door, a drunk driver had swerved into their lane, hitting the vehicle head-on.

The coroner said all three of them had died instantly upon impact. So had the drunk driver. When I got to the scene of the accident, I had understood why they had all died instantly. The vehicles had been obliterated. They were barely even recognizable as vehicles. Even if they had not died on impact, the fire that started after the collision would've taken their lives.

I wished the driver would've lived. I wished that every day he would have to suffer the guilt of knowing he had taken three lives. Of knowing the eighteen-year-old daughter they left at home would be parentless, completely alone. Of knowing she felt she had no choice but to marry the manipulative man she had been dating because she had no family, no guidance. He was all she had after taking the lives of her parents.

"I'm sorry," I cried into my pillow. My parents would have been disappointed in me. They raised me to be a strong, willful girl, and I had failed them. I gave a man the power to control me, to manipulate me, to make me his own in every way. I was weak.

"I'm so sorry."

The next day at work, I felt miserable. I had cried all night long, for many reasons. Mainly for the tragic death of my parents and brother, but also for me. I cried for myself because I was alone in this world. The only people who had ever loved me unconditionally were gone, and after three years, I still wasn't sure how to cope. I had relied solely on a broken relationship to heal my wounds. I cried because of the guilt I felt, surviving because I'd chosen to miss the family outing.