Mafia Desire (Erotica)

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” My father’s voice boomed through the house.

I snapped awake and shot to my feet just as Amy did the same. She covered her naked breasts with her arms and stared, wide eyed and pale, at our parents. They had come back early. In the past year, this was the first time that they had come back early. We’d slept right through them unlocking the door and walking in. To make matters worse, we’d fallen asleep on the couch downstairs, where we had sex the night before We were both still dressed in only our underwear. There was never a chance to react.

“Dad, calm do-” I began, slowly positioning myself between my rapidly approaching father and Amy.

The look on his face and his body language genuinely frightened me. I didn’t think it was likely that he would hurt Amy, but I wanted her as far from harm’s way as I could get her, just in case.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roared. He stopped just a couple of feet from me.

“Why the FUCK is she NAKED?” His eyes burned with rage, as the screaming continued. “What the FUCK did you do to her?”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. I saw the hate in his eyes and knew there was no way this could possibly go well. There was no lie that would resolve this, so I just went for the truth.

“I love her.”

My face exploded in pain as his fist collided with my nose. I stumbled back a few steps, trying to get my thoughts straightened out around the searing pain in my face. Before I could say a word, I registered just a flash of movement and felt a fist collide with my stomach. I went to my knees, fighting hard not to vomit from the pain in my gut.

“DADDY, NO!” I heard Amy shriek behind me. I saw Amy from corner of my eye as she rushed forward. I tried to catch her with my arm, but wasn’t quite fast enough. She slipped between us, holding an open hand up toward him. “You don’t underst-”

“She’s your GODDAMNED sister, you disgusting shit!” He yelled over her, shoving her aside as if she were weightless.

His foot struck me in the ribs and I thought I felt two of them snap. Bolts of pain shot through my chest like daggers, weirdly seeming to originate deep inside my body. Fucking hell, it hurt. I couldn’t think for a moment, everything focused on the pain resonating in my chest. I rolled to my side, hoping he was done, struggling to breathe. Amy’s arms wrapped around me just at that moment, trying to shield me.

“DADDY, I love him! STOP!” She pleaded as he jerked her away from me like a rag doll. Her fingernails dug into my arm, accidentally scratching me as she tried to hold on. I saw her stumble back onto the sofa, and noticed her grab one of mom’s vases from the coffee table. Oh shit, I thought.

I coughed and noticed flecks of blood hit the tile floor just before I realized a kick was coming. I moved to block it, but too slow, flinching in pain and felt the connect. He missed my ribs thanks to me trying to roll and hit the soft tissue beneath. I felt a weird pain and a shift of my organs that definitely did not feel natural. This time I puked bile. Thankfully not a lot, but enough to make my throat burn.

I was too blinded by pain to remember the vase for a moment, but as soon as I did, I shot a look toward the sofa. Mom, streaming tears, had Amy in her arms, struggling to keep her there and whispering to her. Amy still clutched the vase in one hand, gulping air from her adrenaline, her eyes pleading with mine for some affirmation that I was okay.

He didn’t kick me again. He just glared down at me with his nostrils flaring, but didn’t move from where he was. Very painfully, I pulled myself up to my knees, straining against the pain in my chest. I sucked air between my teeth as I struggled to my feet, using the recliner for support.

“Daddy, it’s not his fault.” Amy cried. I looked over at my beautiful baby sister, my princess, as tears poured down her face, her eyes fixed on me in horror. She had snatched her bathrobe from the floor and was holding it over her breasts. It was most certainly my fault, I thought, but air didn’t seem to want to fill my lungs enough to let me say so. I gave her a nod, trying to be reassuring, which probably didn’t work since I had blood dripping all down my chin from my nose. I looked back at my father, waiting for the rest of what was coming. More hits? A call to the police? I wasn’t sure where this was heading. I was gulping like a fish out of water, trying to get enough oxygen in my body while every breath felt like I had napalm searing through my lungs.

“You have thirty minutes.” He spoke in an even tone.

“What?” I choked out. I heard the words, but they didn’t connect to anything in my head. I kept seeing white at the corners of my vision and fought to focus, afraid I was going to pass out. I was familiar with this, having seen the white in my vision field before, when I was struck in the head by a skateboard at the park years before. What a time to have a memory flashback.

“You have thirty minutes. Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house. You don’t live here anymore.” He repeated. I recognized a glint of satisfaction in his eye. I had finally proven myself to be the disappointment he always wanted me to be. My black sheep status had been fully earned and achieved. I would have seethed if I didn’t hurt so badly. “You are not welcome here.”

“Dad.” I began as Amy started sobbing again, wordlessly. She was gasping so hard, I thought she’d hyperventilate.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. I don’t have a son.” He glared. My mother burst into a fresh round of tears.

“Thomas…” My mother began, but stopped when she saw the look that he shot her. I had never gotten the impression that he was ever violent toward her, but she backed down rapidly. The rage I saw in him must have frightened her as well.

“I love him, Daddy!” Amy cried, “Don’t do this!”

“Thirty minutes. You’d better start packing.” He said, as though she weren’t even there. It was easy to see how this was going to play out.

I very painfully went to the stairs, pausing to look back at Amy who was still being held in place by my mother. I was grateful for mom, worried that Amy would make herself a target of our father’s wrath. I was certain I’d end up in prison if that happened. There would be no stopping me.

“It’ll be alright, Amy.” I said, trying to be reassuring, although I wasn’t very sure of that. I just needed her to be safe. She had to calm down.

My father’s eyes burned with a fresh rage hearing me speak to his daughter. I stared back at him with determination. I’d taken all the beating I was going to, I thought. One more step and I’d fight back. I’d lose, given how badly I hurt. But I’d fight back.

I struggled up the staircase, trying not to look in as much physical pain as I felt, for her sake, and leaned on the wall of the hallway for support. I was sweating from the exertion and adrenaline. In my room, I struggled to grab the most important things from my room. I grabbed my laptop and sketchbooks, shoving them in my schoolbag. I grabbed a gym bag from the closet and shoved clothes in it. I could hear yelling downstairs as I packed. I strained to listen for any sign of violence. I would play along for now and find a more peaceful way to resolve this. I didn’t think he would hurt her. I had no doubt he would love the chance to work on me some more, but I was fairly sure that she was safe.

Every step I took was torture, the pain in my sides and face was tremendous. I wiped my face with a paint rag and saw an alarming amount of blood on the rag. There was a sharp stab every time I took a breath. I wondered if this was what a punctured lung felt like. I decided to go to the emergency room when I left here. I’d have to make up a story of some kind, but I thought I may be seriously hurt. I couldn’t tell, I wasn’t thinking clearly around the searing white hot pain.

When I made the first extremely painful trip down the staircase, I saw my father pacing back and forth in the living room. I didn’t see anyone else. I dropped my bags in the trunk of my car and went back upstairs to pack more of my stuff. Mom’s car was gone. She had taken Amy somewhere, I guessed.

“You are not to come back here. Not to stay. Not to visit. You are through in this household.” He said to me, not roaring this time. His voice was hard and grim. “After you leave today, I never want to lay eyes on you again.”

“We never meant for you to find out like this. We were going to sit you guys down and talk to you about it.”

“It wouldn’t make a difference. You fucking degenerate piece of shit. Get your crap and go.”

“Where’s Amy?”

“She went with your mother. Now get out of my house.” He growled.

After I finished packing the things that I needed the most and loading the car, I pulled away from the house with a little less than five minutes to spare. I parked at the end of the street and waited. Mom’s car was still not in the driveway. She and Amy did not return in the several hours that followed.

I sat in the car for a long time. I cried sporadically, which hurt like hell every time my chest heaved. I wait until nearly dark, but never saw any sign of them. I punched the steering wheel in frustration, sending fresh lightning bolts of pain through my sides, and cursed aloud.

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