The Unknown Family

Italian

"I think that's enough studying for today." Theo sighs as he slams shut his Freshman year Italian book.

"I hate this." I whined as I flopped back onto my bed.

"Same, but you need to study Italian if you want to pass this year." Theo replies as he flops down on the bed beside me.

We just laid there in silence, staring up at the ceiling.

In the world, people look for those they can depend on. Those who will be there, no matter the time or day, they will be for.

Ready to hold you when you cry. Ready to cheer in celebration. Ready to hold your hands when you stand in fear. And ready to drive the getaway car after you help them murder their cheating ex.

Theo is that person for me.

When his ex cheated on him with Josh -in Josh's defence, he had no idea she was with Theo- the three of us and Megan dug a massive hole right in front of the steps of her porch. Then we stayed out and videoed her falling into it as she left for school.

When we were stood in the hospital in France, Theo held my hand as I looked down at her. She looked a deathly white, and skin and bone.

I cheered with him as we successfully out ran the police after we stole some clothes from Sports Direct. Especially since we ran in the shoes we stole.

And as we stood, looking at those carved out black grit stone, he held me. For hours he held me in his arms, never loosening his grip. He held me no matter how much I wanted to crumble and cry.

"Come in." Theo called out at the knock at my bedroom door.

"Its dinner time. What are you two doing?" Gio asked as he opened up the door, a smile on his face.

"Studying Italian." Theo responds, sitting up with me.

"Oh, that's good. Soon you'll be able to understand Italian for your grade at school." He said as he walked over to me.

"I wouldn't have to learn it to my grade if you didn't force me to take it." I grumbled, barging past him and out the room.

It's safe to say things are still rocky between Gio and I. Especially when he acts like there's nothing wrong.

A few minutes after I got to the dining room where Rina was already sitting, sipping away at some white wine, everyone else showed up.

Leo gave me a confused at my obvious sour mood, but didn't say anything.

"What's wrong with you?" Luca questions in a bored tone once he looks at me.

" Giovanni è una testa di cazzo per non avermi permesso di prendere il francese" I reply, with perfect pronunciation and accurate description.

Giovanni is a dickhead for not letting me take French

"I don't know whether to be mad or proud..." Andrea stated as he glanced at the faces around the table, mainly me, who has Giovanni on one side and Vito on the other.

"Proud." Vito replied.

"Mad." Giovanni seethed.

"I don't really care if you're mad." I stated as I cut up my hunter's chicken.

"Liviana." Gio warns, anger lacing his tone.

"What." I bluntly answer.

"Stop with the attitude." He says, his green eyes darkening with every word he said.

"Stop acting like you can control me." I replied, glaring right back at him.

"I'm your dad, I can control you." He answered, authority seeping from his tone.

"NO!" Theo and I yelled, standing up from the table so fast and harsh our chairs fell backwards. "You are our father," I say, my index finger pointing at him in a menacing manor. "But you are not our dad."

If there is one thing Theo and I will always agree on, it's Giovanni is not our dad.

"I AM YOUR DAD!" He yelled, standing up himself.

"You're not our dad!" Theo replied. "Our dad was there for us! For Liv's first steps, for her first words, for our first days at school! He held us when we cried! He was there for us when Mom died! He loved us! AND WE LOVED HIM!"

"You don't get to call yourself our dad when you have done nothing to deserve the title!" I said in a deathly steady tone.

"I took you in! I brought you back home!" He yelled, acting like it made him a saint or something. That is the bare minimum a father should do.

"Well then, allow us to fix that." I replied, my voice not wavering.

I sprinted out of the dining room with Theo, making our way to the foyer.

Without thinking, I flung the front door open, and Theo wasted no time in running with me towards the gate. He went straight inside the guards office where they were sitting, and pressed the button to open up the gate.

He took my hand and ran down the driveway, stopping at a bush near the pavement. I watched in confusion as he pulled out a red Dodge Tomahawk, one of the fastest motorbikes in the world.

"Take this." Was all he said as he handed me a red, blackout helmet.

I put it on and climbed on the back of the motorbike behind him. Once he saw I was secure, and put his own helmet on, he wrapped my arms tightly around his waist and took off down the road.

We drove into the lively New York city, admiring the night life that surrounded us. We drove straight through the city. Then we crossed the Holland Tunnel, and drove to a house facing New York in New Jersey.

It was a large beach house.

The outside walls were a pale green, the porch and steps a clear white. The cobble path leading up to the steps were freshly cleaned and cleared of moss. Through the front door, I was presented with a white walled living room. There was pale blue cushions on the white leather sofas and a light oak coffee table ontop of a fluffy green rug, all opposite a 60" tv mounted on the wall. In the attached room, was a six seater light oak dining table, with white leather seats.

The kitchen had light oak counter tops, and the cabinets where a shimmering white that reflected the sun light that drifted through the window. Upstairs there were three bedrooms, all with white walls and double beds, light oak wardrobes and chest of draws. The bathroom had white tiles and light oak counter tops, and all the rooms with sofas and beds were decorated with pale green rugs and pale blue cushions.

A sliding white door in the kitchen led to a white porch that faced the beach. It gave us a clear view of New York; the city we just fled from.

"What is this place?" I asked Theo once I came back down stairs, to find him making some pasta in the kitchen.

"I bought it when we moved to New York, for when one of them became an asshole so we could get away." He explained.

"How can you afford this? And who'd sell this place to you? You're fifteen." I asked, confusion lacing every word I spoke.

"I have my ways." He replied.

He followed me as I sat down on the leather sofa in the living room. He wrapped his arm around my side as he lifted me up onto his lap side ways. He held my head against his chest as the first tear slipped.

Then another...

Then another...

Until I was sat there crying in my big brother's arms once again.

"I miss him." I sobbed. "I miss all four of them..."

I felt a tear drip from above, settling in my wavy red, brown hair. Looking up, I saw he was crying also. He held me tighter to his chest, letting his own tears fall.

"Me too." Was all he said

I miss each and every one of them...