slurs.
I’m twenty, today. I graduated high school last year, but I’ve been working retail at this coffee shop while I decide what to do with my life. My prospects are limited. I was a terrible student. School really isn’t my thing, but every time I try to narrow down a trade school direction, I just completely freak out.
My entire life has been decided for me every step of the way until now. I’ve never had to make a decision on my own, ever. It’s overwhelming trying to figure out what to do for the rest of my life and if I’m being truly honest, I’ve never really thought about it. My entire life I’ve just been trying to survive—trying to strive for a sense of normalcy.
When I was little, before my father died, naturally my parents decided everything about my life. Then when Aunt Irene took us in, she made every decision about our lives including what we ate and how much of that food we consumed.
Aunt Irene also decided what activities we would be involved in, which for me was ballet only. Rosana was allowed to take acting, art, music, and lyrical dance. I don’t know why, and I never asked.
It’s obvious that Rosana is the favorite. Maybe because she came to Aunt Irene at a younger age, maybe just because her disposition is sweeter than anyone else’s on earth.
Rosana is a sweet soul, a young one. She’ll always be soft and sweet. It’s just her nature. It’s hard not to fall completely in love with her, she’s just plain good.
“I haven’t,” I whisper.
“The time has come,” she snaps as she pushes up to standing. “You have a week to get out. You’re as lazy as your father, always have been. I’m not going to stand for it. Not in my house and definitely not for free.”
Looking down at my feet, I lift my gaze back up to meet hers. “What am I supposed to do?” I ask.
She arches a brow, then her eyes light up as she searches my confused face. “Maybe you should ask Bellarosa how to make it in the real world?”
I take a step back, stumbling before I right myself. Shaking my head once. I open my mouth, then snap it closed before I narrow my gaze on her.
“On my birthday?” I gasp. “You’re a terrible person. I hope you drop fucking dead,” I snap.
Turning my back to her, I run out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back. I think about her words, then before I get too far away from the house, my feet stop.
I could call Gavino, ask him for help, he said that I was technically famiglia no matter what, but I’m not that person. I could call Bellarosa, but she needs to live her life without her little sister begging for help. She’s suffered more than I could ever imagine. She deserves to just breathe easy and be happy.
Pressing my lips together, I tug my phone out of my back pocket. Finding the Uber app, I put in the address to the only place where I know someone from the famiglia will even consider helping me.
It only takes a few moments for the driver to pull up. Slipping into the back seat of the Prius, the driver looks back at me to confirm my destination. My heart slams against my chest as I nod my head. Pinching my eyes closed, I wonder why I’m doing this. There has to be another alternative.
I could call my friend, Marissa, and ask to crash on her couch. But I couldn’t stay there long. She lives in a studio and doesn’t need an extra person taking up space and using her utilities.
Technically, I could couch surf between a few of my friends, but what’s the point. I need a long-term solution and that isn’t going to be one. That will only get me by for a few weeks, two months tops.
My mediocre wages aren’t going to get me far, I couldn’t even rent a room from someone on what I bring home a month. I don’t really have much of a choice, and if I get turned away when I arrive, I’ll basically be living on the streets.
The car pulls up to a nondescript brick building. “You sure you want me to drop you off here? It doesn’t look too safe for a woman alone,” the driver says.
Flicking my gaze around the area, he’s right. It doesn’t look safe, not