The Rebel's Princess (Completed)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

Carlo's House

"Karla," my uncle turns to face me when we stop at the front door, "I'll bring your clothes tomorrow, but I am not bringing your entire closet." He warns and I nod my head, "If you need anything else, you can buy it." I smile at him and hand my apartment key. Thankfully I don't have any animals and the idea of getting a cat never went further than just an idea.

"Carlo will keep you safe. You can trust him." My uncle smiles and gives me a kiss on my forehead. Trust him? How do you trust a complete stranger? I couldn't even trust my friends' parents when I went for a sleepover. I always stayed up until everyone was asleep before going to bed myself. How can I trust a man, who by the way is part of a gang, and sleep in the same house as him?

A lot of bad things can happen in one night. That is for sure.

I watch as he drives off and turn to face the tall guy who's leaning on the wall with his arms crossed. He is still shirtless, and his dark hair is a mess. "Okay, uhm," I avert my gaze from his torso, "where do I sleep?" I ask softly and fiddle with my hands. I feel so nervous all of a sudden. The bad things are still clear in the back of my head. If uncle Sam can trust him, I'm sure I can too. Right?

"Follow me." He answers and I do as order. He goes deeper in the house and stop in front of a room; the door is already open. "This is a spare room I have." He nods his head to the room, "My room is just across from it. If you need anything, just knock. The bathroom is next to your room." He explains and I nod. It isn't that hard to remember. At least it isn't a big house where I can get lost in when the time comes to try and escape.

He looks down at my black clothes and frowns, "Are you going to sleep in that?" He asks. He has an Italian accent, like my father's, only his sounds smoother. It also sounds like he smokes. I don't like the smell of cigarettes, my father use to smoke pipe. Tobacco and cigars were his poison, along with whiskey.

I look down at the black dress and then back at him. He sighs and turns to his door, disappearing inside his room and reappearing after a few seconds. I didn't even have a full minute to think by myself. His presence makes me feel more claustrophobic than the house does.

"Here, you can borrow this until Sam brings your clothes." He hands over an oversize grey shirt and sweatpants. I frown at the large size, but I wasn't going to be ungrateful. It will be more comfortable than this dress.

"Thank you." I smile and he nods. He walks back to his room and looks back before shutting his door. "Good night, Karla." I try to ignore the feeling in my stomach at the way he says my name and look down before answering him. "Good night, Carlo." I watch him shut his door before turning to my now assigned room.

I switch on the light and close the door behind me. The room isn't decorated, and the covers are just plain grey. Heading to the bed, I place the clothes in a heap down and I pull out my phone from the pocket of my black leather jacket that I also had on to the funeral.

11:56 pm.
9 text messages.
5 missed calls.

All from Clarke. None from my mother. We never had a strong bond or relationship. I sigh and sit down on the bed. This day has been by far the worst. And very eventful. I dial Clark's number and before I press call I decide against it. It is late, he is probably asleep by now. I open my text messages and type a message: Hi Clark. I am sorry for not picking up, my phone was on silent. Uncle Sam took me for a long drive to clear my head from today and yesterday. I will talk to you soon, but I am okay xoxo. I press send and put the phone down on the nightstand.

I start taking off my high heels and then getting undress from there. I pull out the hairband from my hair and my brown curls falls down my bare shoulders. I got my hair from my dad, my eyes and most of my looks and personality is based off from him. I take a strand of hair between my fingers and sigh again. Why did I have to lose him from all people?

He was the only role model I ever had. He was my hero. He is still my hero. Even after he got shot in his study, in his family home, he still protected his family. Not one of us were harmed. He was the only person who understood me. Normally a girl's best friend from birth, would be their mother, but I only had my father. My first word was "papa" and my last word to him...was "papa".

I pull on the shirt and leave on my bra, not really caring if I sleep with it on or not. I take the pants in my hands and stare at it for a moment. It's too big. I decide against wearing it and get in bed. I stare at the ceiling and feel the tears again. I miss him. All our memories flood my brain and I turn on my side, grabbing the other pillow and hug it against me.

"Mi manchi papà." I whisper into the darkness.

If the FBI doesn't find those killers, I will. And it won't be nice. Like uncle Sam said, I have good aim. I will aim right to their heads. 

(Edited.)