Hope

Hope
18 Years Old

I don’t have the strength to get up. Lying down, I stare at the white pillowcase on my bed, the soft cotton stained with tears. I tried to be strong, to keep moving forward as if nothing could shake me, but now there is no reality beyond being trapped within these walls; I suffocate a little more each day.

Knocks sound at the door. I say they can come in and see my father walking toward me with a worried expression. He takes off his shoes and lies down on the bed. I curl up against his chest, needing a little affection, the comforting scent; I sigh, pressing my face against his suit. If I could, I would merge with him.

"What’s wrong, my princess?"

"Nothing," I reply. That’s the only truth—I have nothing.

"Steve told me you’ve been a bit depressed since your graduation. Tell me what happened." He smooths my arm.

I sigh; it doesn’t make a difference whether I speak or stay silent.

"I just don’t have anything left to do."

"What do you mean, dear?" He pulls me to sit up. "Talk to me like we always have."

"There’s no mystery, Dad." I sit up, placing my palm on the mattress and resting my head on his shoulder, lacking the strength to stay upright. "I finished school, and normally I would get married, like Kessy—my cousin who recently got together with someone from New York—but there’s nothing left I can do. I can’t get married, school is over, and my days have been confined here." I look around, the walls slowly pressing in on me. "I can’t attend family events or participate in the ladies’ organization activities. I’m not even allowed to go shopping with my cousins."

I sob tiredly; it’s been a year trapped in this house, watching my siblings go out all the time while I stayed behind. Even my mother traveled to her psychologist in Los Angeles and sometimes on trips with my father. As for me, all that’s left is staying here, trapped, finding enjoyment only when I sneak through secret passages to hear what’s happening in the world.

"And that’s all I have left while I live, right?" I ask, eyes brimming. "Being trapped at home, waiting for Mom’s episodes on my birthday. Not allowed to meet or see people, unable to feel anything but loneliness. I accept my fate and the promise we made, but there’s no way I can keep pretending everything is fine when most of the time I’m alone in this huge house, not even the staff dares speak to me without being reprimanded."

"Forgive me, my princess." He pulls me to his chest. I cry out the pain that has been consuming me. "I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you."

"It’s not your fault," I murmur. "It’s no one’s; it’s just how things are, but knowing that doesn’t make the pain any less."

"Tell me how I can make you feel better," he asks, looking into my eyes. "I’ll do anything."

"What options do I have, Dad?"

He stays silent, studying my face. There’s nothing we can do.

"How about going back to study? College."

"Can I do that?" I frown, uncertain. "Aren’t girls forbidden from studying after high school?"

"They are, but I’ll get permission from the Boss." He jumps up. "Come with me, let’s choose your course."

"Dad, if this will get you in trouble, it’s not necessary," I hesitate.

"I am Bartolomeu Bonnarro; nothing will put me in trouble." I smile, lighting up with his confidence.

I never thought I could go back to studying. During high school, despite the restrictions, I enjoyed talking to the other girls, learning about their lives, imagining what mine would be like if I hadn’t been born into a mafia family. For the first time since graduating, I feel like getting out of bed. I rise and follow my father to his office.

The first thing we do is find colleges near our house, then carefully look at each course and what benefits they might bring me as a mafia member. By the end of the night, I feel excited about the possibility of studying medicine. It takes my father about a month to get my enrollment and the Boss’s permission. I don’t know what he promised in return and don’t want to find out; for now, I’ll enjoy my small victory.

Going to college and having a purpose in life is like a daily injection of energy into my veins. I study all the time, spend the day on campus, attending classes and talking with my classmates. I don’t mind the security or the fact that I must stay away from boys. Despite many cute ones I could easily get involved with, I keep the promises I made to my family and am grateful every day to have found a purpose.

Faster than I expected, the days pass, I pull all-nighters studying, and sometimes I get so anxious about the subjects that I need sedatives for my anxiety. Things have never been this good. My mother continues her therapy with a psychologist specializing in violence against women, and I think it’s working; I feel Kennedy freer and more controlled, though I really do talk less with her because of school.

Sitting at my desk in my room, I review the material from the last class. I’ve been fascinated with human anatomy and my hands itch during practical lessons when we explore cadavers. I stretch, my back aching, glance at the clock, and see one minute to midnight. I didn’t notice time passing; when I started studying, it was 7 p.m.

I yawn, my eyes falling on today’s date. Ice spreads through my veins as I realize what day it will be in one minute: 08/24, my birthday. I stare at the bedroom door, fear crawling through my veins like insects. I rush to the door, locking it, turn the key, and the living room clock strikes midnight. I look at the secret passages—did I close them all? I run, touching the lock device; she won’t get in.

When was the last time I saw my mother? I can’t remember. How has she been this week? I bite my lips, nervous, pacing back and forth, clutching my hair in my hands, anxiety attacking me like a bomb. Knocks at the door make my heart race—what if it’s her?

"Hope, it’s me, Black and Steve." The deep voice resonates from the other side.

With hesitant steps, I walk to the door, heart almost exploding in my chest, turn the handle, and open a tiny crack, seeing my brothers on the other side. She’s not here. I let them in; they enter quickly, holding a pink box. My stomach twists, imagining its contents. I look at Black, who smiles; Steve opens his arms and pulls me to him.

"Happy birthday, little sister," Steve says, kissing my head.

What’s happy today? Absolutely nothing. Did I lock the door? I leave Steve’s arms and am caught by Black in a warm hug. I push against his chest to free myself, walking to the door with trembling hands. I grab the handle, and a force on the other side stops me from closing it.

She pushes the door gently, and my mother’s eyes are the first thing I see. I step back; she came to hurt me. I bump into something, arms wrap around my waist, my heart racing, deafened by the sound, my throat struggling for air. She enters. I scan her body for objects to harm me but find nothing, though that doesn’t mean I’m safe.

"Calm down, Hope," Black says. "We’re here." He wraps me in a hug, turning me away from my mother, paralyzing me. "Take her away, Steve."

"Alright," my father’s voice says. "Kennedy isn’t having an episode; she’s controlled."

"Hope, my love." Her voice is like velvet. I close my eyes, afraid to face her. "It’s okay, dear, I don’t want to hurt you. Look at me."

I shake my head, air growing scarcer.

"I just want to wish you a happy birthday, my love," she continues. "Come here with Mommy."

It can’t be true; it can’t be real. She must be pretending, like when I was 16. Faking it to gain our family’s trust, then cutting my neck with the sharp tip hidden in her ring when she hugged me.

"It’s not like last time, Hope," my father says. "Your mother has been trying and is better. Look at us, dear."

I shake my head; I can’t stay here anymore.

I push Black away and run to the bathroom. I lock the door, placing the chair I use for makeup against the handle. I step back until I’m inside the bathtub. I turn on cold water, cover my ears, refusing to hear any of them. I will never be safe on my birthdays; no matter what she does, nothing will change.

I ignore all calls, staying in the cold water until my body shakes and my teeth chatter. I rise, soaking everything around me, remove my clothes, and wrap myself in a robe. I take my pajamas from the counter and carefully open the bedroom door. I find my brothers lying on the bed. Seeing me, they get up with sad expressions.

"Mom is fine. Hope, you can trust her," Black says.

"I don’t want to see her," I say, voice trembling. "Please."

"Alright." Steve comes to me, picks me up, and lays me on the bed between him and Black. "Do you want your medicine?"

I nod.

He gives me the four pills. Lying between my brothers, I let the medicine put me to sleep, making me pass out for the rest of my birthday.

No matter how much she’s improved, the years of trauma remain etched in my heart. For me, my birthday will always be a day that brings fear and makes me want to disappear from the world. And that will never change.