His Feisty Mafia Princess

I Don't Want Help

So far I'm 98% convinced I'm going to hate this girl, Alessia or whatever the f**k her name is. I won’t be able to be around her all the time, it’s only been a couple of hours and I can’t take it anymore.

All she does is talk, talk, talk, smile like a demented person, laugh with every single thing someone says and wave her hands with every word that comes out of her mouth —a mouth that maybe would be sexy if she just kept it f*****g shut. Everyone in my family is practically eating out of her hand, it’s so pathetic I want to just shoot something. Or someone.. someone named Alessia.

As usual, I’ve been keeping to myself and trying to disassociate. I haven’t said more than strictly necessary, or perhaps even less than that. Not that it’s something bad, I think if we all said only what is necessary there wouldn't be so much ear pollution in the world.

"Excuse this inept, he never speaks," Kyle sneers and punches my arm, still chewing like an animal. I look at him trying to explode his eyes with my mind for forcing me into the damn conversation but I shrug my shoulders so I don't have to say anything.

Once the attention is brought to me, it doesn't go away easily because everyone knows how much I hate being the center of attention.

"I figured that out a while ago," Alessia says and laughs again. I'm starting to consider putting on headphones and turning the music all the way up just so I don’t have to listen to her laughter. And I don't even like music, so I'm preferring that annoying noise over her stupid voice.

"Don't worry, honey, he’s not like that once he gets to know and trust you," my mom lies, getting Alessia’s attention. That is a giant lie because I'm just like this with everyone I know. And I don't trust anyone. Not even myself.

"I get it, I'm the same way. I’m shy at first,” Alessia lies too. This is a dinner party full of liars.

"Nah, I don't think so," Joe scoffs, chewing loudly, "You're cool and he's... well he's Judas, which means: totally un-cool."

"Joe, shut your f*****g mouth when you’re eating, pig.”I say because I just can’t take it anymore, but I forgot my mom is here.

"Judas, watch your mouth! Joseph, don't bother your brother! Please guys, behave," she begs holding back her urge to scream something way worse, killing us both with her eyes and then turning her gaze to Alessia again, "Having only guys is such a punishment from god. Something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Our last hope is Tayson, we pray he's not like all the others."

"Tayson?" Alessia asks looking at my mom with a cute frown. Well, at least she looks kind of cute when she keeps her mouth shut. Someone should tell her.

"He's our youngest brother, he's 13," Joshua replies, "But in the end he'll end up being like all of us anyway."

Sucks for poor little Tayson.

I manage to finish dinner without saying another word, which no one else did. I ate quietly, as one is supposed to eat, but they didn't. No one understands the pleasure in being quiet. They talked about such stupid things, even talked at the same time, all together and no one seemed to notice or be bothered by it more than me. There are very few things I hate about Italians, and definitely all this crap about big family dinners when everyone talks to each other and communicates in a loving way... I hate it.

And just when I thought all the bad stuff was over and I’m already standing up ready to leave not only the dining room but this house, my mom stands as well to grab my arm tightly, then she looks at Alessia.

"Why don't you go for a walk to catch up, just the two of you?" she asks, smiling way too much. I open my mouth right away to tell her there's no way I'm going out by myself with that girl, but she kind of read my mind and before I could say anything, she adds, “You're going to be friends, you'll be seeing a lot of each other at dinners like this, so I'd think you two better get to know each other well. Something tells me you could be really good... friends, or whatever else you want to be."

Fuck my life. ‘Friends or whatever else you want to be?’ I want to puke.

I know me being involved with this girl would be something my mom would absolutely love. That would tie us up around Dio even more. But please, God, don’t let my mom try to make me marry this girl or something. I would kill myself for real this time.

"Um, sure," Alessia replies sounding like a complacent child, giving me a bright look and a smile. I grimace uncomfortably but have no other choice but to nod before walking to the front door, hoping Alessia follows me… or don’t.

"Take your time, Judas, we're in no hurry to leave," my mom says as I open the door. When I look back at her, she opens her big eyes at me with a purposeful look, pursing her lips and wiggling her eyebrows before I leave, in a clear message that says: don't f**k this up.

Once we’re outside, Alessia stands there for a few seconds staring ahead without saying anything, just lost there, leaving me standing behind her not knowing what to do. She's been talking and moving around all night and now she decides to just stand there and do nothing? That makes me lose the little patience I have left.

"So are we going for a walk or do you want to stay here all f*****g night?" I spit, tapping the floor noisily with my restless foot and earning a mocking laugh from her.

"You’re so impatient and restless," she mutters, turning around to look me up and down with a raised eyebrow, "You really have issues and I’ve been analyzing them the whole night. So far, my diagnosis is: you’re a bitter guy who’s no fun.”

She starts walking with a big smile after saying that, walking and bouncing at the same time, I even hear her humming. I stand for a moment in shock just watching how her hips move as she walks and how her butt slightly bounces.

How dare she say I’m a bitter guy who’s no fun?

Sure, it's true, but she has no right to just say it. Do I just blurt out that she's an annoying little girl playing to know it all? No, I mean, I'm polite. And I'm afraid of her dad.

I take a breath trying to calm down and follow her because that's all I can do. It’s literally my job from now on whether I like it or not.

We walk together sdown the street in a silence way too awkward to be true. I don't even know why the hell they made us go out on the damn street to walk, it doesn't make sense. For the first time in my life I feel like saying something, so I blurt out what's on my mind:

"You're not a real f*****g psychologist, you know? So don't act like you know how to read me."

"I know I’m not a psychologist," she replies, stopping and turning to me to roll her eyes. I have to lower my head so I can look her in the eye. Besides being annoying she looks like a little hobbit next to me, "I'm just good at reading people. And you're frustrated because what I said is true. You're easy to read. You're bitter and I don't know why, I was considering you had family issues, but I just met your family and they're cool, so the problem is in you. You probably do drugs… well, that's obvious. You’re always on the defensive with anyone who says a word to you and the first time I saw you, you had a face full of bruises, so you’re violent too. Something in you is really f****d up and I just want to help you. But you're obviously the kind of guy who never lets anyone into his world, who doesn't show his emotions and who swallows everything. What I want..."

"You want to annoy me to death. That's what you want," I spit at her and start walking wherever this street takes me as long as it's away from her.

"Stop acting defensive," she scolds me reaching my side in a second. I roll my eyes and try to go faster but she grabs my arm. And I could do anything like shake my arm to get her to let go or just push her with my other hand so she ends up on the floor, but I don't want to have thirty bullets in my head yet, "I want to be your friend, Jude. Not just your counselor or whatever. I can really help you. I know you're not happy, it's obvious you're not happy. I haven't seen you really smile once."

"You can't help me, I'm sorry," I admit, not moving my arm because her hand is still curled there. "No one can help me. I'm not going to slit my wrists or kill myself for my wretched life, okay? So don’t bother, I don't want help. That's what I've been telling Fabiola for as long as I've known her 'I don't. Want. Help' but neither she nor you understand those words. And above all, I don't really smile, Alessia, ever. Just deal with it.”