Mafia's Principessa

Kitties

"What are you doing in my room." I asked knowing exactly what he was doing.

Mother was downstairs fostering a fresh black eye, her eyes empty as she watched wheel of Fortune. I'd climbed the stairs to my bedroom in less then 5 seconds only to find my alcoholic step father with his hand in my dresser.

My underwear and bras were strewn across the floor, and in his hand was my stash from this weeks pay check and my tips.

"This is my house." He slurred swinging his arm out, my eyes remained on the wad in his hand.

"And that's my money." I said reaching for it.

The first hit always hurt the worst. The slap sent me stumbling across the room.

"You ungrateful bitch. Everything you have is because of me." He spat reaching for me.

It did no good to run, that would only piss him off more. I did anyway, I made it out the door, to the stairs. With one yank of my hair I was being thrown backwards, the carpet on the stairs would hardly soften the blow, but I covered myself as best as possible, reaching for the banister to stop falling. I didn't. He stumbled down after me again gripping me by my hair dragging me to the door.

"Don't come back until you learn some respect."

It was over.
I waited until my nose stopped bleeding to move. I took the bus to work, I'd only come home to change after class and take my money, but he'd beaten me to it. It'd take another week and a half to make up the money, and until I was 18 there was no bank option.

One more month.

Kitties neon lights flickered across the street. The inside smelled like cologne, alcohol, and sex. The other girls were getting dressed for the private event. Madam had informed us it was an important client. Italians. That meant mafia. Every now and then Kitties was a place very shady people came to watch girls dance while they did shady business. Madam didn't pay it any mind, and we never questioned her connections.A quick shower and I was walking through the dressing room to my station, all the pity glances revealed the damage.

"Please let me kill the asshole." Marcilie begged carefully applying foundation, to my face.

"My mother wouldn't let you"

"She needs help Bella. That dick Richard has been fucking with her for years."

"My mother hasn't been sane since my father left. So basically all my life. It's fine. In a month I can get us out. She'll put up a fight, but she needs to go home. Once I make sure she's safe I can breathe."

"I'm sure your  mother left Italy for a reason Bells."

"She's not from Italy. She left Italy because  she was sixteen and pregnant. She got kicked out. Once I'm out of the equation my grandmother will gladly take her back."

"And you think she'll leave you."

"Look at my fucking face. She left a long time ago." She didn't blink and neither did I. A dab of lip gloss and I was off to the rack to find tonight's piece."

"Bella." Madam called from her office.

"Madam." I answered taking a seat across from her and she looked at me over the rim of her cheetah print glasses.

"Tonight is an important night. Our guest are old friends of my father and I expect there to be no issues. Keep your distance and stay on the main stage of at the bar. No individual dances."

"That's how I make my tips."

"I don't want to hear any lip. I've broken too many laws already by letting you dance here and you're a minor. When the regular crowd is here we can protect you, but these people are dangerous and I couldn't save you even if I wanted to. I'll pay you by the hour for the night."

"Fine."

"Be careful." She said eyeing the bruises on my face.

"Thanks."