The Mafia Queens

Chapter 27- Funeral

"It's the funeral today, Leo," Adrian sighed, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I know." Leo stood, flattening the lapels of his black suit. 
"I realise you two were close-" Paulo began but was cut off.

"We weren't close," Leo dismissed, "I thought we were, in some sense, but there were so many secrets. So much none of us knew about." His frown deepened as he restlessly picked at the skin around his fingers.

Suddenly, the front door slammed shut and the men all jumped to attention, reaching for their firearms. Listening to the footsteps, they could easily discern that two people were approaching: one with a very prominent limp.
"Chill, dudes, it's just me," CJ draped herself over the arm of the couch next to Leo, tailed by Maria.

Her girlfriend made a move to complain about her blatant disregard for the stitches she had recently received, though she figured complaining would be futile. 
"What are y'all dressed up for?" the leader asked curiously- her authority severely affected by the fact that she was looking at the group upside down. 

Everyone in the room stared at her in a mixture of concern and doubt. 
"The funeral," Iago mumbled awkwardly. Their boss simply nodded, hiding her emotions under her usual, stony mask, swinging her legs onto the floor, composing herself. Silence consumed the room as CJ moved toward the spiral staircase, eyes trained on her balled hands in front of her.

Her knuckles became white as she clenched her fists in an attempt to keep her true feelings bottled up. She felt forced to keep them hidden away from the gang- as their leader, she was meant to keep her invulnerable facade when in their presence. 

"I'm just gonna... use the bathroom." Darting up the stairs, she left the others in a tense situation. 
"I'll talk to her," Maria and Leo suggested simultaneously. She sent him a pointed look, her stubborn nature reluctant to back down,  yet he ultimately won their silent argument, running up the stairs two at a time. 

Rolling her eyes, Maria turned to the abnormally quiet gang. 
"Riaaa," Paulo called from the other side of the room, attempting to fix his tie in the mirror, "Can you help me?"

☆☆☆

Pulling her shirt over her head, with some difficulty, CJ watched her reflection. Her skin was pale and grey- dark bags made her eyes appear sullen and empty. Scratches, scars, and stitches littered her upper body and face. Two deep wounds remained on her jaw and eyebrow from where Quil's knife had cut her.

"CJ?" Leo's voice came from outside her temporary bedroom. She alerted him to her whereabouts, before collapsing onto the floor, hugging her knees close to her. Sinking next to her, the second-in-command placed a comforting arm over her shoulders. 

Resisting the urge to flinch, CJ hung her head, looking down at the tattoos covering her chest, absentmindedly tracing them with her fingers. 
"What's bothering you, Hermana?" Leo asked softly. She scoffed in response. 
"Where do I begin?"

"The fact that I was forced into gang life as soon as I was born? Or how I was eight when I first killed someone? How my father tried to kill me a hundred times or that my mother was just as bad? I was shipped off to England at a young age with no friends and no contact with anyone from my old life for five years! Drew pushed me into abusive relationship after abusive relationship- degrading me, forcing me to beg those pieces of shit to not leave me."

By this point, her voice was cracking and her throat dry, making it hard to speak. 
"They didn't deserve you," Leo whispered, stroking her hair, as he had seen Dennis do many times to calm her down. CJ nodded, burrowing her face into his white shirt.