Married to the Mafia

CH 1. Audrina

I panted as I tried to run quietly through the empty streets, my dark hair streaming out behind me. It was late and I had to hurry home as the sun had set and I was pretty certain that I would not like to be the target of a mans desire tonight. Or any night at all.

Dodging a turned over garbage can and stepping on something that squelched under my foot, I cringed and tried not to think about it as I arrived to my apartment. The whole building was grey and deserted besides an old man living on the 4th floor. He was an old ex-gang member but he was nice enough though I didn't see him often. My place was on the 5th floor and I ran up the steps which took effort everyday but it was to help me get stronger so I kept quiet about it.

I pulled out my key from my pocket and quietly opened the door, trying to not let the hinges creak.

"Mother?" I softly called out; if she was asleep I then didn't want to wake her.
The silence echoing throughout the apartment told me she was asleep of which I silently opened it fully. Letting myself inside I took my shoes off and headed to the kitchen. Our apartment was old and very bare. The floor had carpet with holes and stains while the kitchen was ridden with cockroaches. The ancient stove that has been there for donkey's years was close to dying out on us.

This kind of life is disgusting, I know. But this is they best mother and I can do and I cannot leave here. I work as a mechanic for cars and motorbikes in this city but it doesn't bring in much money. The most work I get is when the illegal races are on, which I can't stand the creeps hanging around. I cannot count the number of times I've been almost raped but thanks to the brawls over the years, I've learnt to defend myself and still keep my dignity intact.

Long ago, my father left my mother when she was pregnant with me and she had no other choice but to run to this city. The city with no police, hospitals or anything. The city where the poorest people, criminals and crazies live. She used to come from a good family but when she fell in love with my father they disowned her. They could not stand their daughter being in love with a poor man so they kicked her out. With no money and her inheritance stripped from her she stayed with my father. For a while things were great but when he found out she was pregnant he ditched her. He was terrified as they were both only still teenagers and he did not know what to do. He could not take care of himself let alone a new mother and baby. Having no where else to go, my mother fled here, where there was no gossiping and prying eyes and most of all, a place where she couldn't hear the horrible rumours and stories of her. This is where I was born and raised. At first, when I was little she would often have to steal just so she could feed me. She put me above everything else and did everything she could for me to have food in my stomach.

And as I grew up, I learnt how to take care of myself and I got into a lot of fights with the other children, especially the boys which over time it meant that I had no friends. But also over time I learnt to actually combat others and I always carry weapons on me now as I got older to protect myself from the danger on the streets. I have never killed anyone and I hope it stays that way. As I learnt self defence I also got a job at a garage. I guess I'm really lucky I got that job, (I had to literally get on my knees and beg), as other girls my age got work as being prostitutes. I slowly learnt the ropes of fixing cars and stuff and I could say that I'm pretty good at it. But I still think they only hired me because they think my looks will bring in business or somewhat but other than that I am grateful to the boss.

I have been told by a very few people who knew my mother that we look like twins. I have long, very dark brown (almost black ) hair and turquoise eyes. Mother used to have long hair like mine but as she grew older she cut it short to save hassle. She has hazel eyes and in comparison to each other, that is the only thing that is different about us. I have always hated my eyes as they are the same shade as my fathers which my mother told me when I was 12 years old. I hate having the same eyes as a traitor. Though the topic has never come up, I know that sometimes when my mother looks into my eyes I know that she feels sadness; her only child having the same eyes as the man who left her with nothing and I know the pain she feels every time my eyes meet hers.