Claimed by the Mafia King

I WOKE UP FEELING HORRIBLE

As a result of all the shouting and crying of the previous night, I was plagued with a terrible headache when I woke up. It was 7:30 and I was meant to open the boutique by 8am.

‘Can today get any worse?’ I mumbled, jumping out of the bed and out of my room. I didn’t want to take drugs for my headache. I rather endure it as I hated drugs with a passion that burnt my soul.

I rushed into the bathroom to take my bath, taking my clothes with me. It was a habit of mine to dress up in the bathroom. I still couldn’t stop it even though it got my dress all wet sometimes.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

After taking my bath, I rushed out to see my mum setting the plates for breakfast on the dining. She looked okay. That was something I admired about her_ It was really hard to know_to figure out what she passed through everyday by just looking at her. She had perfected the act of pretending like most African mothers and wives.

I looked like a thinner, younger version of her, with smaller ass and bigger boobs. And yes, I was fairer as she was a bit more tanned. Her nose was smaller than mine though and my lips were fuller. Her eyes were not as white as mine, they were yellow probably from crying too much.

She had beautiful skin with hairs over her legs just like me. Hair also sprung out underneath her chin which she shaved off. I preferred pulling mine off though, it kept me busy anytime I was bored. Even with all the stress my mom went through no one would guess that she had three children if not for the stretch marks on her legs and stomach and the veins too.

I soon had to accept that my home was like most homes in the country which remained intact because the women did nothing but pretend to be happy in other to keep her home.

It was always about how to keep your man why was there never a how to keep your woman. I feared getting married so much, which was thanks to the marriages I saw around filled with unhappy wives and selfish husbands. If there was a thing like marriage phobia that was my own phobia.

“I’m going to work now mum.” I informed her taking a slice of bread.

“Are you not going to eat? at least take your tea.” She scolded, handing me the cup of tea over our small rubber white dining table.

I sipped a little bit and it burnt my tongue, totally discouraging me from taking further sips. “Mum don’t worry I’ll come early OK and I’ll eat at work.”

“Won’t you go to church for holy Friday?” she asked sitting down on one of the chairs in the diner, her back was turned to me.

“I would.” I answered rushing out of the house.

“OK please make sure you eat and take_”

” OK OK mum I know already I will take care of myself and I promise to be careful with everything I do especially when crossing the road.” I said mimicking her.

She always tells me to be careful with people especially boys. I knew she didn’t want me to make the same mistake she did by marrying my dad_ even if she won’t accept that she made a mistake by marrying him at least not to me.

“Tell Daniel and David not to step on my bed or else I will beat them.” I warned. She rolled her eyes and we both smiled.

I hurriedly wore my sandals and opened the wooden door only to see my father standing there_he was on the phone with someone.

My heart skipped a beat and I froze on the spot. My first instinct was to run away but to run where? Downstairs or back into the house. Downstairs felt like the better of the options but before I could move my father voiced out his disapproval.

“Get back inside!” He shouted. Startled at the tone of his voice I ran inside. My heart was pounding fast against my chest as I stepped back inside and pulled my sandals. My mum was folding some of her clothes in the parlor when I walked.

“Daddy is back.” I whispered. She was just as startled as I was. She quickly carried all her clothes and ran inside.

I was still deciding on what to do when my dad walked in and banged the door behind him. I wanted to run into the room but my feet refused to move.

“Mirabel call your mother.” My dad said, dropping the call he was on. I dashed into the room before he finished talking. His voice was so full of anger.

“Mummy daddy said I should call you.” I whispered. My mum looked at me with fear in her eyes, I was sure that her heart was also pounding in her chest.

“Why?” She asked.

“I don’t know.”

We both stared at each other for a few seconds before my dad’s voice interrupted our eye message.

“Mummy come please.” He pleaded, but it was as if he was screaming. His voice was so loud. I hated it.

My mum jumped up from her bed. “Let’s go.” She straightened her pink nightgown and we both walked into the parlor.

We had four chairs in the parlor and a coach with a middle table demarcating them. It was a simple home painted in yellow. Our floor was tiled with an ancient kind of tiles and our dining was made of rubber. Our TV was still one of those box TV’s you place on a TV stand, ours was black with the DVD below. It was better than having none though.

My dad was sitting on one of the chairs and my mum walked in and sat on the coach opposite him. While I stood there waiting for the courage that would enable me tell my dad that I needed to go to work.

“Daddy good morning.” My mum greeted him sounding like her usual self even though I knew she was afraid.

“Good morning.” My dad replied. He faced me and I quickly looked away. “Mirabel thank God I came just in time. Go and park your bag now, you are leaving for your aunt Ego’s house in port.”