A Treacherous King- Dark Mafia Romance

fifteen

Maeve

Seven Years Ago

I toss my backpack on the kitchen counter, and dig through the fridge for something to eat. I had just gotten home from working a nine hour shift at Willow's Diner on top of going to school earlier that day. I'd been working there as a waitress for over two years now. The pay was shit and the job duties were even shittier, but it kept me busy and kept my mind off of things.

My muscles ache and the heels of my feet are sore from running back and forth between tables and the kitchen. I hadn't gotten many tips tonight but yet, the service was still demanding. People that demanded the most were the ones that tipped the shittiest. I had learned that my first day of waitressing. I had made a miraculous seven dollars and fifty cents tonight and spent it all on gas to get myself home and enough to get me to work tomorrow.

Our small two bedroom two bath house was empty tonight. My grandma was no where to be found. She was probably gambling away a months worth of groceries at the moment. My grandma had lousy luck, but it didn't stop her from betting her life savings away. She was convinced that one day she'd win us enough money to buy our own private island. The only thing she did was sink us further and further into crippling debt.

There wasn't shit to eat in this house except a sleeve of stale crackers and a carton of spoiled milk. I grab the crackers and go into the our small outdated living room. My grandma and grandpa had bought this house back in the seventies. The furniture and decor spoke truth of that. The orange carpet was stained in places along with our lumpy floral printed couch.

I plop down on it and pluck the remote from in between the couch cushions. I turn the TV on, an old episode of Fresh Prince of Bel Air filling the screen. I try to overlook the outdated taste of the stale crackers, just wanting to eat enough to where my stomach will stop growling.

Suddenly a loud bang echoes across the house. My heart lurches into my throat, my spine going stick straight. The incessant pounding on the door sounds again. I lurch up from the couch and make my way into our narrow entryway. I slide my back against the panel boards in the hall, craning my neck forward. I see enough to make out the shape of a large figure illuminated by our porch light. The person pounds on the door again, the sound rattling my teeth.

"Helen! Open the fucking door!" A male voice sounds. Shit. He obviously is here for my grandma. Men and women alike had showed up on different occasions wanting to speak with my her. All those times, she was here and I never came into contact with them. My grandma had never told me the reason for them showing up, but I had suspected that it had something to do with her gambling debt.

"Helen! I've been real nice to you, but you've been avoiding my calls and I want my fucking money!" I take a shaky intake of breath. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I could try calling my grandma but she never answers while she's placing bets. I could just tell the man that she's not here and to come back, but he sounds angry. I don't want him taking that anger out on me. Calling the police was definitely out of the question. Grandma had sworn off police a long time ago. She'd never forgive me if I called them over this. The man just keeps pounding on the door, yelling obscenities and demanding his money.

"I know someone's here! I can hear the TV!" The man goes quiet after a minute and I think he might have left, but then the pounding sounds from the backdoor. My eyes start to well up with tears.

There's been plenty of times that I've been alone. Times where I sometimes stayed here by myself for days, my grandma off doing god knows what. I never felt afraid then, but this panic in my chest is sending a fear straight down my spine.