But Daddy I Love Him

"The MAFIA?!"

I shriek, my hands balled into fists at my sides, and stand up from where I'm sitting on the couch. Usually, I would have never used this tone of voice with my parents.

But then again, usually, we would also not be seated in our living room-which now, come to think of it, is not what a lawyer and therapist can normally afford-talking about something I have always thought just an urban legend.

"Calm down, Kay. Yes, we agree that that was not the best decision on our part," dad says calmly...way too calmly, and places his hand over mum's, who nods at me like she has been doing all night. There is no way she just agrees with all the bullshit he is spewing.

"But right now, they don't know about you, and we plan on keeping it that way."

I laugh, a hollow dry sound, and drag my fingers through my hair. Who the fuck are they?

"Okay. They don't know about me, great. What's going to happen to me if-when they kill you guys? What are you going to do?" I choke out, my voice cracking at the very end.

"It will not come to that, Makayla. And for your own safety, we are sending you far away from here. You're growing up, and it's about time you learned to be respons-"

"Oh, bullshit! Growing up my ass. When it comes to what I want, it has always been you're not old enough yet, so what has suddenly changed?" I yell, and slap my palm against the sofa.

Their wide eyed, disbelieving expressions tell me that I have their attention, and I clench my jaw to try and level my breathing.

"This is not about me. You're just trying to protect yourselves. You know that by getting rid of me, you're making yourselves invincible right? Because then you'll have nothing to lose. They'll have nothing to blackmail you with, right?"

Mum shakes her head and stands up to come to me, but dad grabs her hand and stops her.

"Kay, you should know...we did not know-"

"So why the hell am I the one paying for your ignorant bad decisions then, huh? Why is it me who has to go and start over, like I am the one who made the mistake? I am not just a fucking liability you know!" I scream at him, and I watch as his face changes from sympathetic to annoyed.

I know I am acting out of line, but can they blame me? This information is too much to process all at once.

Did he expect me to just smile and say it was all fine after finding out that they are criminals who now want me to just uproot my life because of their life choices?

And, they must think I'm really stupid if they believe I don't know that the only reason they're telling me all this now is because there is some kind of problem.

"It doesn't matter what you think we are doing here. You have tonight and the morning to pack a few bags. I'll give you three credit cards of clean money for the start. Everything else, we shall send over when you settle. Hugo will take you to the airport, and there will be a plane waiting for you there. You will leave Manhattan, and there will be no further discussion about this," he says with an authority to his voice that he has never used with me, one that says he means every word.

"You can't make me leave, dad." I grit out with way more confidence than I actually feel, but he does not even flinch.

"I hope I will not have to. And, the sooner you understand that everything we did-everything we are doing is for you, the easier this will be. I'm tired... I'll go and rest now," he says dismissively, turns on his heel and walks away.

Mum stands up and follows him, glancing at me over her shoulder with tears in her eyes.

"I never asked for any of this! Don't try to pin your shit on me. You can't make me leave. I hate you both. I fucking hate you," I scream into the empty living room, tears falling freely down my cheeks.

Great, now my makeup is ruined. I want this to be a bad dream, or for my normal, ordinary, boring parents to appear at the top of the staircase and yell April Fool's and then we can all laugh about this, but it's all too real, because a) I'm wide awake and b), we're in the middle of fucking May.

My knees buckle, and I fall to the floor and rest my head against the cool leather of the couch with resignation.

The mafia? What next...is someone going to tell me the illuminati is real too? Or werewolves?

And...they are just sending me away without any sort of explanation other than 'you would not understand'. What about my dreams? My goals? My friends? My scholarship at Yale-the only thing I have that is really, truly mine, that nobody has just handed over to me, what about all that? And if something is wrong, how do they expect me to just leave and stay away knowing that they are probably not safe back here?

"Fuck!" I breathe out, and hug my legs to my chest.

And then it hits me. I don't have to leave. They cannot make me if they don't know where the hell I am. Manhattan is littered with hotels, and all I have to do is switch out every couple of days.

I go upstairs to my room, slam my door extra hard for good measure, and pull out the wad of allowance money I have stashed under my mattress since junior year. I count the bills and stuff them into a bag together with a couple of clothes.

If I run out, I could just place a random call or something, but they would have probably abandoned the whole sending me away idea when that happens. Anyways, I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

I climb out through my window, run across the backyard and duck out of the small gate that leads right into an alley behind the house. When I am a few blocks down the street, I order an Uber and then turn off my phone as soon as it arrives.

"The Silver Springs hotel, please," I tell the driver with a smile, and lean back on my seat.

Mum and dad are right about something. I am growing up, and I have to start acting like it. They need to stop controlling my life, and I need to stop fucking letting them.

"Waiting for someone, miss?"

The bartender asks with a smile as he places my second cocktail in front of me, and I bite back the snarky comment on my tongue and smile right back at him.

"I'm not a hooker, if that's what you're asking," I say, and he shuffles uncomfortably on his feet, but I cannot blame him for thinking it.

Behind me around tables of roulette, baccarat, poker and black jack, old men dressed in suits and puffing on big cigars, and some whom I recognize from those TV programs about congressmen and politics howl and holler, with girls who look not much older than me on their hands.

I also definitely look the part...I came down to the bar as soon as I heard that the hotel had one to drink my problems away, without bothering to change into something more decent than the silver sequin mini dress and thigh high boots I left home dressed in.

"That's definitely not what I'm asking. It's just that people have been staring since you sat down, and it might not be too safe for a girl alone here," he says sincerely, and then goes back to pouring drinks.

I look around, and notice that some of them, despite already having escorts are not even trying to be subtle about checking me out. My skin crawls, and I wonder how many of them have wives and children waiting for them back at home, and how many of those children do not know about the fucking double lives their husbands and fathers are living.

Before I completely ruin my mood, I tell myself that is all none of my business, and nothing is going to happen as long as I stay sober and do not move from the bar. As long as I stay away from the casino situation, I'm going to be fine.

Before I can finish my thought, a gunshot goes off somewhere behind me, and everyone immediately crouches or drops to the floor. I stay frozen in my seat as another shot is fired and patrons begin to scream and follow the order to "get on the ground", while others abandon their dates and run out of the room.

Four men in dark suits, all carrying guns, seem to appear out of thin air when I finally turn around, and start grabbing girls. The one who was yelling at people to get on the ground seems to overseeing everything as he walks around and then completely disappears from my line of sight.

Sweat rolls down my back and my heart skips several beats. I want to jump from the stool and run to my room, but I cannot seem to move my legs. This cannot be happening right now. Not on top of everything that has already happened today.

I gasp as a gloved hand wraps around my arm and yanks me right out of the stool and onto my feet. The cold metal of a gun touches my forehead when I open my mouth to scream. This must be a police raid...I've heard of them too. I just did not think they were real, because being rich and choosing to waste money and having an escort is not illegal.

"Sir, you don't understand. I'm here alone, I'm a resident at the hotel, I'm not with the other girls. Check if you want," I try to explain as he drags me towards the door, and in a gruff voice the man tells me to shut up and walk.

He leads me through a maze of dark hallways and out a door in the back, and throws me towards the rest of the whimpering girls huddled together and surrounded by the three other men.

The one who brought me here pulls out his phone and calls someone, and he speaks to them in a language I don't understand.

"Get them ready to leave. Nano will be here any moment now, and you know the boss wants everything perfect and on time," he says as soon as he hangs up, and the men around us nod.

Oh...so this is what this is all about. Now that I know they are not policemen, I am sure that my parents sent them here to scare me...to show me how much "danger" I am in, and I am never going to forgive them for this.

"Look, it's me you've come here for. Call your boss and tell him you found me...let the others go," I say, but none of them as much as looks in my direction.

"Please, I have a child. Let me go," one girl cries as a black van screeches to a halt in front of us, and I raise my arm over to shield my eyes from the blinding headlights.

"Move," the men say, herding us towards the car. The girls cry and beg, and I dig my nails into my palms. This is all my fault, they're suffering because I wanted to see my father squirm.

"It is me you're here for, guys. Tell my father you found me, and let the rest of them go!" I say more firmly, raising my voice, and the men exchange a look. They laugh, and the leader grabs me by the hair and tosses me in the van with everyone else.

They pass around those kidnap hoods to drape over our heads, and the girls start to go quiet around me one by one.

I also pull mine over my face and lean my head against the window. and thuddenly I start to feel sick and faint, and my eyes get too heavy for me to keep open. With the last of my strength, I try to pull the hood from my head, but a stronger hand grabs it and holds it over my face, and everything goes black as the van speeds out of the parking garage.

"Take them to one of our locations. Give them the instructions, and tomorrow, get them ready and send them out to work. Not that one. She stays here."

The hand that was grabbing me lets me go and I blink and try to squint my eyes, but everything remains blurry around me. Soon, the cries of the other girls die out from around me until it is clear that it is just two people left in the room.

I knew that dad was behind this.

"Water," I rasp, grabbing my temples. My throat is dry and I am dizzy. I hear footsteps, and then make out a bottle of water in front of me. I take it and swallow a long, grateful sip, and then hold it out to my captor.

"Tell my dad I'm not going to make it this easy for him. I'll come right back if he tries to send me abroad," I slur and the man laughs, a brief, deep sound.

"I don't take orders from you, and I definitely do not work for your dad, young lady," he says back, and I snort.

"I'm not stupid. My dad told me everything... he's in the mafia, and you're his little puppets, aren't you? He sent you out to find me tonight?" I drawl.

For some unfathomable reason, I feel drunk.

Is it the cocktails? Is that why everything is so blurry and the room is leaning?

"My head is killing me. Get me an aspirin," I tell him, and he laughs again.

"What's so funny? I asked you to get me an-

Suddenly, he is so close I can feel the heat from his body. His fingers wrap around my throat tight enough to choke me but not quite enough to cut my air flow, and his face is only inches from mine.

His breath is warm, sweet and minty between my eyebrows and he is panting angrily.

"Do you know who I am, little girl?" he grits out, and I turn my head to the side.

"Yes. One of my dad's puppets. And I'll definitely be telling him about this," I croak defiantly, and my breathing starts to get strained as he tightens his grip.

Now that I know that he is so easy to piss off and rile up, I'm going to make him WANT me out of here as soon as possible.

"You seem like a very entitled little princess. But let me make one thing very clear. I do not work for your dad, or anyone else for that matter. And starting now, you're going to respect me, or I'll make you fear me. Understood?" He says, his voice lowered to a harsh whisper.

He lets me go and I snort as he straightens when the door opens. Little girl, little princess...why does he keep calling me little?

"Sir, we're ready to move the girls. Coco wants to talk to you-"

I chortle. "Coco?"

Is that the best dad could come up with? A fucking Disney cartoon character? And what was the point of kidnapping all the girls if they were just going to send them back home anyway? Dad could have just sent his goons a picture of me.

Sir, whatever his name is, groans and turns to face me. He reaches into the back of his pants and then I hear a gun click. I think he is pointing it at me...I can't be sure. My vision is only starting to clear, and the room is very dimly lit-but I almost dare him to shoot me.

"I'll deal with you later. Let's go," he says, replaces his gun and saunters out.

I hear the door close and then lock, wait a beat and then I shuffle off of the bed.

I rub my forehead to try and soothe the pain, and grab the bed post when I sway. It feels like someone is pounding on my head with a hammer.

Tyres screech outside, and while I can barely stand up straight on my own, this is my only opportunity to get away from my dad and this insane shit. The bottle of water is still on the nightstand, and I stagger towards it and splash some over my face, and thankfully, my vision clears enough for me to be able to see.

I drag myself unsteadily towards the door and pull my hotel room key card from the inside of my boot. I lean my entire weight against the door, and then stick the card between the door and the frame.

I move it up and down like in the movies, cursing under my breath at all the rattling. It doesn't work and the edge gets completely destroyed, but I flip the card over and try another corner.

"Fuck!" I whisper tearfully when the door doesn't budge, and then try again, putting more weight on the door. The card is completely ruined except for one last corner, so I need this one to work.

I slide it up and down, my knuckles grazing painfully against the wood, tears stinging my eyes.

And then, I hear a click and I turn the knob. The door swings open and I fall into the hallway and take off my heels. I stand up and just start running, without even knowing where I am going.

I must be in some kind of hotel, considering the number of rooms on either side of this hallway. I see stairs at the end and run faster, my body surging with adrenaline with each step. I descend into some kind of lobby, and my heart beats even faster when I see the open French doors right in front of me.

I run through them and down another staircase, and stop when I hear voices. I clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle my breathing and slowly descend the rest of the way down the first flight. Halfway down, a step creaks, and everyone goes silent.

"Who is there?" a man's voice comes from a room at the bottom of the stairs, and then he pokes his head through the open door. His fingers curl around a gun, and I feel hot tears wet my palm.

Without thinking, I run down the rest of the stairs, taking them two at a time. There is no glass in the railing on the second flight of stairs, and I jump right through and land hard on the ground. Pain shoots through my wrist, but I stand up and just keep running.

"Stop," the man screams, his footsteps getting closer behind me. I run faster up another flight of stairs, taking them two at a time. They stop on another floor, and I see freedom. At the end are double wooden doors different from all the rest, the kind you would typically find at a hotel entrance.

My legs carry me on their own, the man not far behind me. I reach the door, turn the knob, step out, slam it behind me and drop to my knees with my eyes closed.

My body goes slack with relief as I laugh and cry all at once, not sure that this is even real... that I managed to escape so easily.

Victory feels sweet, until I open my eyes, and lock eyes with the man who not so long ago was choking the life out of me.

THE BOSS.