Chapter1
Emma
Emma kept her hair down because she didn't like how it looked up. It made her look too friendly, and she didn't want that. It wasn't that she wasn't friendly because she was, but she was too scared to take people at face value. People didn't always want the best for her.
She was wearing a pair of baggy pants and a long sleeve T-shirt to not attract attention to herself. Her motto was to dress like a background person, so she did. Once in a long while she would dress up and go dancing, but always by herself, and rarely did she bring anyone home for the night. And today, in the scorching heat, she regretted it just a little. The extra layers made sweat travel down her back, making her uncomfortable.
She had picked up her groceries, nothing too heavy, just fruit and some sale items she couldn't pass up. She stepped outside and nearly ran into two men talking in the doorway. She stood frozen, feeling her anxiety spike.
It wouldn't be hard for her to just clear her throat and ask them to move. But God forbid she should speak. Her mind always thought of the worst possible outcome to a situation, and today it was that they could mug her. Take her fruit and the recently purchased tampons that were on sale and leave her for dead.
She couldn't step around them as they took up the entire entrance. That would draw attention to her, unwanted attention.
So instead, she waited for them to stop talking. One of them turned, noticing her standing there, and offered her a smile that she didn't return. "I'm sorry." He shoved his friend out of the way. "We weren't trying to block you."
"Our bad!" His friend added, proving that her thoughts were unnecessarily provoked. They were clearly not muggers.
But she shouldered past them, practically ignoring them, and one of them muttered, "Someone's having a rough day."
Every day's a rough day,Emma thought.
She walked the few blocks back home, stopping across the street from her apartment. The building was only two floors with a small barber shop on the main floor run by an old man. She lived in a loft on the second floor.
The neighborhood was rundown, and there was always something going on that would draw the attention of the police, but her loft was a secure area. Her great-uncle owned the building, and no one fucked with her great-uncle, and in turn, they left her alone.
Emma knew the illegal activity her mobster family was involved in caused her anxiety. Fortunately, she didn't have to worry about the crimes since she was just a mule to everything. She wouldn't even be involved with anything if the cards hadn't fallen several years ago.
Emma had been driving home on a wickedly cold day, back when her life wasn't filled with anxiety. She hit a patch of ice, and her car swerved out of control.
Everything happened too quickly. It was like she was happily normal one second, and the next, she was a killer.
She didn't remember getting out and seeing the person under her car. She didn't even remember who she called, but she did remember the deal she had struck. The deal that changed her entire life.
Emma shook her head, not wanting to think about that. It always made her anxiety spike, and today she was already having a hard enough time containing it.
She took the stairs up to her apartment and jumped when a neighbor slammed their front door. With an urge to look over her shoulder, she paused at the entrance to her place but suppressed the compulsion.
She unlocked her apartment and stepped inside. She glanced around at the empty pizza boxes, cracker crumbs, and half-full soda cans. She needed to clean, but she couldn't. She wasn't in the right headspace, and in turn, it built up.
"Home, sweet, home," Emma muttered bitterly under her breath.
Three loads of dirty laundry sat on the floor. Dishes overflowed on the counter and in the sink. Her kitchen smelled bad since she hadn't taken out her garbage, which consisted of take-out containers, in almost a week. She glanced from her kitchen to her bedroom, which doubled as the living room. Her bed was a mess of crumpled sheets, and she kept her curtains pulled, allowing no light into her space.
It was the perfect space for a depressed person, and she fell under that category hard. It wasn't that she wanted to live like this, but she just didn't see a way of moving past it. Her past haunted her night and day. She carried such guilt over something she wasn’t even allowed to talk about now.
She put her groceries away and tried to clean up. She needed to occupy herself until her company arrived.
And by company, it wasn't the type she looked forward to. No, she hadn't had someone she enjoyed over in a long time, probably since her car accident.
Emma struck a deal with her family. They covered up her crime, and in turn, she was the person that held the “packages” for storage. So, every two weeks, there was a drop-off. Emma never looked at what was inside, but she suspected it was drugs.
Her anxiety overflowed, knowing something sketchy was going down, but there wasn't anything she could do. She was a killer, after all, who was she to judge?
Emma made her bed and went into the kitchen. She had to make the place appear like someone lived there. After doing half the dishes and seeing the time, she got in the shower.
After getting dressed, she pulled her hair up and tried to steady her pounding heart. Two guys from the Fontana family were coming to get the packages that sat underneath her shoe rack.
She stared at the boxes wrapped in brown paper, always wondering what was really inside. She never dared to open them. She could always just lie and say someone left it there if anyone ever found out the truth.