Winter's Wonderful Summer's Special

We Can Be Friends

Vote if you don't mind. Honestly, Angelo's father makes me sick, I feel horribly for Mila, and Angelo, so innocent and misguided. He has a choice now though despite how he was raised, he can be like his father or like someone else. Its up to him. I want to know you guy's thoughts on it.

His dad had forgiven Mila a few days later, and she was on her best behavior after a few days with no food or water. She didn't talk to him those days she was locked away with him, just curled up on his cot and whimpered in her sleep. He spent most of that time staring at her. Besides his mother, a very long time ago, Mila was the first girl he had ever been around. Hell, she was actually one of the only people he's ever been around. He took notice of how different she was from his dad and the man that occasionally came around to talk to his dad.

Angelo watched the chain slowly snake across the floor, one end attached to the hook near the trashcan in the kitchen, the other end attached to Mila's slender ankle. He decided he didn't find the sound the chain scraping against the hardwood pleasing.

Mila came to a stop next to the living room window and stared out of it, her arms firmly crossed over her chest. Her gown fluttered in the wind coming from the iron fan in the corner of the room. His dad had spent most of the morning combing her thick hair and kissing her. She had cried the whole time.

"Don't spend too much time in the window, my doll." His dad cooed as he continued to flutter around the kitchen fixing dinner for himself and Mila. Angelo sniffed the air, it smelled like pork chops and mashed potatoes. His stomach growled loudly and he patted it sadly.

Mila ignored his dad and unlike when he did it, his father didn't get angry and storm over, intent on causing some harm. She picked at the healing flesh around her wrists and chewed on her lip.

"Close the damn curtains, Angelo yelled at him.

Angelo quickly scrambled to his feet and over to the blinds and quickly closed them and the curtains. Mila shot him a glare of disdain before moving away from the window and sitting down on the couch where he had just vacated, his spot.

"Do you want a beer with dinner, my sweet milk." His father called out as if he was singing. Angelo stared at his father, he had never seen the man so happy before. Mila didn't answer. "Sweet milk, did you hear me?" Angelo's eyes fell back on Mila, who was staring at her nails. She still didn't answer.

His father sighed dejectedly before making his way over to the girl. He bent down in front of Mila, both of his hands one either side of her, resting on the back of the couch. Mila recoiled, leaning back into the couch as far as she could. "What's wrong? Why are you ignoring me? Don't do this." He reached out and cupped the side of her face before leaning in and briefly kissing her on the lips. When he pulled back Mila's whole body shook. "Come on, lets have dinner." He grabbed the girl by her hand and pulled her to her feet and over to the table in the kitchen. "I hope you like it."

Angelo forced himself to stop watching, not wanting his father's attention to turn negatively on to him. He went to get the dictionary from underneath the coffee table to read.

"What about him?"

"What about him?"

"What is he going to eat? He should join us."

Angelo realizing they were talking about him, pulled all of his attention on the table. Mila was looking at him and his father was staring at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Angelo wished he had gone fishing.

"Trust me, dear, he doesn't have table manners. You don't want to eat with him."

Mila turned cool eyes onto the man, but wasn't able to hold his stare long. "He's your son, isn't he?"