Insufficient

Chapter One: Early Disasters

(Juliana's POV)

I stood stoically across from my eldest brother, arms behind my back, head down, eyes on the floor.

We were currently on one of their many private jets and had yet to leave the airport.

"I would like to clarify a few things for you, Juliana. This is not a vacation. You are being sent to our relatives to shape up. We're all done with you. Done with the attitude, done with the disobedience, and we know for a fact that Uncle Stefano won't put up with any of your bullshit. Or anyone in that house actually. Not Aunt Stephanie, not any of your cousins, and most definitely not grandma or grandpa. You think I'm bad? Just you wait. You cause trouble there and the punishments I give you will seem mitigate in comparison. Do you understand?" He asked venomously.

I nodded my head, fighting the shivers that were going down my spine. Which means that unfortunately, I felt it before I saw it. The sting of his hand coming down against my already bruised cheek.

"I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND." He yelled at me as I cradled my cheek.

"Yes sir." I whispered.

"Incompetent bitch." He muttered.

"Call this your one and only warning. If I have to hear anything about you being disrespectful, mouthing off, or causing trouble, not only will I fly down there and personally beat you, you'll be in twice the amount of trouble." He threatened before turning on his heal and walking out of the plane.

I stood there, unsure of myself, as my new reality set in. I was being sent across the country, to family members I hadn't seen since I was 5, and who have most likely been told I'm an attention seeking bitch.

Amazing.

I sat down in one of the ridiculously fluffy chairs, fastening my seat belt as the captain came over the intercom. He explained safety procedures that I didn't really bother listening to, if I die I die, and then stating the exact number of hours and minutes it would take to get from our current location in New York, to Italy.

Though, the entire time he was talking only one thing could cross my mind.

Shit's about to get interesting.

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How many ever hours it takes to get from New York to Italy later

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I walked off the plane, more than a little unsure of myself. I was in the airport, and there was a lot of people. I had my backpack cradled to my chest, almost like a shield.

I had backed myself into a corner. And I mean that literally. I sat across from where boarding was, behind the rows of seats. I was sitting on my bottom with my back to the corner, knees to my chest with my backpack in between my knees and chest. I had my arms wrapped around the backpack.

When I got there it was about 8:30, and I watched as people boarded and de-boarded the planes.

It was honestly kind of interesting; watching people coming and going. Some people would get to the section real early and sit down, relax and play games on electronics, some would pace the whole time, and some people would show up just in the nick of time, out of breath, obviously having been rushing to get there.

Eventually though, things did get boring. I felt like when Jameson (the oldest brother) would make me kneel in the corner. Sometimes it would be on rice, sometimes it was just the regular floor, but he normally left me for hours on end. And I wasn't aloud to move or else I got in even more trouble.