Captured by the Criminal (Taken)

I rub the sting on my cheek. “Don’t lie.”

Tears stream from my eyes, and I run across the yard to my house next to hers, slamming the heavy wooden door. I sob big fat tears, wishing Mom were here to defend herself against Esmeralda’s attacks. But she’s dead. I race up the wide staircase, down the long hall, not slowing until I reach my room, where I fling myself onto the bed.

My father knocks on the door. “Bianca? Is everything ok?”

“Go away,” I shout, wishing I could tell him I hate Costi’s mother. How much I wish he’d hire any other woman in the world.

“Bianca, talk to me.” He rattles the doorknob.

“No. Go away.” I don’t know how Costi can stand to live with that woman. Sure, my mother may be a whore, but that’s nothing compared to Esmeralda being a bitch. I looked that word up too, and it’s true about her.

I bury my face in my pillow and eventually my father gives up and I hear his footsteps fade off down the hallway.

Tears soak my pillowcase until something raps against my windowpane. I climb off the bed and brush aside the pink curtain, squinting to see what’s outside in the dark.

Costi stands below my window, throwing rocks to get my attention.

I swipe away the tears I’ve cried tonight and wave to him. He points to the sky and I give him a thumb up.

He climbs up a trellis, throwing one leg over my balcony railing.

Once he’s standing beside me on the balcony, he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Sorry about my mom.”

“Just promise me you won’t grow up to be like her.” I try to hide my tears.

“Like how?”

“Evil.”

He moves to the edge of the balcony, leaning his elbows on the railing. “I could never be like that.”

I mimic his position, looking out toward the lapping waves of the ocean in the distance. “Why is she always so mean to me?”

Costi leans up, staring at me. “I think she feels threatened because she knows one day you’re going to grow up to be the most powerful woman in Miami.”

I wave off his words. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. Because when you put your mind to something, you never quit.” He points at me. “Remember when you were determined to get Mr. Leslie’s cat out of that old tree down the block? Everyone thought you were crazy, but you wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He laughs under his breath. “You climbed that tree and rescued that darn cat.”

“Yeah, and he scratched me for it.” I glance at my arm, where I thought for sure there’d be a scar from the cat’s claws.

“If that cat couldn’t leave his mark, then no one will be able to touch you when you’re older.”

I stare back at the ocean, mesmerized by the way the moonlight glows over the waves. “Maybe you’re right.”

Esmerelda’s claws are sharp, but they’ll never leave their mark on me.

Thirteen Years Old

* * *

Thirteen is truly an unlucky number. I’ve been this age for months and had nothing but bad luck. Costi said his mom wouldn’t be home, but of course, she is.

“What are you doing here?” she says with one hand on the door, ready to slam it in my face.

Over the years, I’ve wondered why she dislikes me so much, but can’t come up with anything conclusive. On the sly, she says nasty things to me with a razor sharp tongue, and I keep my mouth shut because I know if I tell my dad, he’ll oust her from her position in his organization. That means I’d lose Costi, so I suck it up and avoid her as much as possible.

Her eyes sweep over my blossoming body with disdain and I shrink inside my t-shirt and shorts, wishing I’d worn something that hid my new curves. Wishing my hair was sleek like hers instead of the curls that spring to life under the first drop of humidity. Wishing I wasn’t so plain.

“I stopped by to study with Costi.”

She steps onto the porch and closes the door behind her. “I think it’s time we had a heart-to-heart chat.”

That would be easier if she had a heart. “Um, ok.”

I cross my arms over my chest in case her idea of a heart-to-heart means ripping it out of my body.

“You’re not children anymore. I think you need to find other things to do besides hang out with my son. It’s best if you and Constantine do not stay joined at the hip.”

“But—”

“No buts, Bianca.” She puts on the friendly face she uses around my father, but her eyes are cold as ice. “You’re really turning into a doppelgänger of your mother,” she muses.

“Thanks,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets so she can’t see them shaking.

She tilts her head, critiquing me from head to toe. “Except heavier. But you’ll lose the baby fat soon, I’m sure, dear.”