Mobster's Angel

Chapter 2

Erin

Once we’re finally back at our apartment, Joey heads out. I instantly kick off my shoes and get ready for bed. I’m pulling a long comfy T-shirt over my head when Clarissa knocks on my door.

“Come in,” I yell.

“Hey,” she says, and she sits on my bed. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah. Sure.” I run a brush through my hair.

“Oh.”

“What?” I ask.

“It’s nothing,” she says.

The brush hits my thigh as my hand comes down in frustration.

“Come on, nothing is always something,” I inform her.

“It’s just... Well...”

“Spit it out, C,” I encourage.

“It’s seems like you never really have fun.”

Uh oh! I’ve got to work on my act.

“Yes I do. I’m just tired. It’s been a long week at school.” I pause and place my brush on the bureau. “Let me get a good night’s sleep and tomorrow night we will par-tay.”

“Okay,” she responds, hesitantly. “You know, if you need to talk to someone, there are people here too.”

“What do you mean? Like a shrink?” I ask, trying not to blow my cover.

“Yeah.”

“Trust me, C. I’m good. If you don’t let me get some sleep, I won’t be par-tay ready for tomorrow night. Shoo...” I make a motion with my hand and close the door behind her.  I lean against the closed door.

Yikes!

*****

The blast still wakes me up. A cold sweat outlines my skin, and I blink into the darkness of my room. I don’t think I screamed or thrashed because Clarissa would’ve been in here in a nano-second.  

It’s always the same. In the end, as the car explodes, strong hands envelope me and lift me in slow-motion. The car explodes once again, and the scene replays over... and over until it finally wakes me up. The dreams are getting fewer and farther between, but they’re still here nonetheless. Dammit!

My nightmares aren’t always about the blast. Sometimes, they are vivid images and replays of being held hostage in my kitchen with my mother and sister, Megan. A long slender gun points down at us, held by some psycho who was after my father for killing someone. Then they flash to brazen images of Connor with some girl. I catch him first-hand kissing her neck and watch his hands trail greedily over her breasts. I think he expects to get what I gave him. I kick myself for my stupidity. I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did. I should have saved myself for a non-asshole.

My eyes hurt from straining in the darkness. The only time the dreams got better was when Vito slept beside me in South Bend. He calmed me just by being next to me. I could actually sleep for hours without waking up. Or actually get rest when I slept, instead of feeling like I went ten rounds in a boxing ring by the time I woke up.

I shut my eyes and try one of my ridiculous tricks for falling back to sleep. I imagine a fence, an old style rail one.  I start counting.

One. Vito hurtles the fence.

Two. Vito hurtles the fence.

Three. Vito hurtles the fence.

Four. Vito hurtles the fence.