Normal. Normalcy. A term I'm not very familiar with, a normal life with normal people is going to school. Grades from Kindergarten through college, having a choice on who you want to be. Your future lying in your own hands, not someone else's. Not another person to tell you who you are and what you'll be. You get to decide. You get to leave your home and go out to places, not having to be afraid of what creeps in the shadows of the night. Go out with your friends, but be home by a certain time. Being grounded with proper groundings, no phone, no TV, no friends.

I didn't get that kind of life though, my life had been a simple lie for eight years. I was too naive and young to understand the dark secrets that were all around me, I was oblivious. I remember that day, clearer than any. I was coming home from school, it had been parent's day, but my parents never showed up. We had a rule that I could never go into the basement, so when my bus pulled up in front of my old small home, I walked inside prepared to scold my parents.

Nobody was in the living room, but I heard the water running from the kitchen, back then our home was small. Everyone was on one floor, we had one straight hallway that took you from two bedrooms to a bathroom all the way to the end. The kitchen was on your left when you walked into the house, anyway, I had walked into the kitchen with my princess backpack on. My mother, Elenora, had the sink on. She was washing something off, but when she heard me walk in it was like her entire body tensed up, she paused her movements, but I stomped over to her. With one hand on my hip, I glared at the side of her face.

I was short, so I couldn't see what was in the sink. My mom had turned towards me, her brown eyes wide with shock and surprise, but I was determined to scold her for missing parents' day. I remember wagging my index finger at her, rambling on and on about how embarrassing and mean it was for them not to show up when I told them multiple times how important that day for me was. I was very spoiled, and I still am.

She still didn't move her hands, and that's when Dad walked in, I spun around so fast that my hair slapped me in the face. In his hands was a gun, I wasn't sure what gun it was back then, but it had been a Glock. I know that now. My dad was holding it, it was like everything stopped. Like the world had stopped breathing. I hadn't ever seen a gun before, only in movies, but never in person. And never by my father.

I turned around to my mother and I stepped on my tiptoes, the sink was covered in blood. Crimson blood. Blood was splattered all over the knife, our white washcloth, and her hands. I tugged on her black shirt, making her body turn over to me. I gasped at the sight, the side of her shirt had blood splattered all over. Bloodstained

everything and I felt lightheaded. I didn't know what was happening, I was confused and scared.

Why did my dad have a gun? Why was my mom cleaning blood from a knife? What was happening?

After that, my dad tried to come over to me, but I fainted. I wasn't sure how long I was out, but when I woke up I was in my bedroom and it was dark out. I lay there for several moments, remembering everything. I had gotten up and tiptoed out of my bedroom, my parents were talking in hushed whispers in their room. I pressed my ear against the door.

"We have to tell her, it's time." I heard her say. "She's only a child." My father had said, his voice shaking, but I didn't listen anymore. Did I mention a rule on never going to the basement? Well when you walk into the kitchen, there's a door over to the far right side. It used to be locked all the time, but that day it was slightly open. I had thought they panicked and rushed to make sure I was okay, completely forgetting about their job.

I opened the basement door and I stepped down the steps, being cautious as I went. My heart was hammering in my chest, it was so loud I knew someone other than me could hear it. When I reached the last step, I saw it. I saw him. I saw what they did to him. Sitting in the chair was a man, he was tied up. His wrists were tied to the arms of a wooden chair, and his legs were tied to each leg of the chair. His head was down on his chest, in my brain I thought he was asleep.

I wanted to help him, but when I walked over to him and lifted his head up, I saw I was already too late. His stomach had been stabbed multiple times, and blood stained his face and streamed down from his nose. His neck was slit. I let out the loudest, most petrified, scream I could muster. Tears clouded my vision and I couldn't hear anything besides my heart pounding in my ears.

My parents murdered him.

They sat me down and explained everything, they told me what a mafia was. That their names weren't actually Emma and David, that they killed the people who didn't deserve to be alive. I was sick to my stomach, I puked several times that day. I couldn't sleep, I had nightmares about it for years.

I was pulled out of school, leaving everyone and everything behind, we moved out of that house and we drove for three hours into the outskirts of Chicago, where a large gated mansion stood. I was told that this had been my home the entire time, that

their names were Piero and Elenora, and that I was a Marino.

My days no longer consisted of drawing in coloring books, I didn't go to school. Instead, I was put into a room alone, with my uncles or aunts where they taught me the history of the mafia. The history of our families and great enemies. Where everyone was originally from and what my actual name was.

I wasn't Aria Alveraz.

I was Amaya Marino.

From eight years old until I was sixteen, I was training. Learning how to be the best assassin in the Marino dynasty, I learned how to kill someone in 79 different ways. How to shoot a gun in the most impossible situations, and still kill my target. I learned how to stab someone in 100 different ways and how to fight in hand-to-hand combat.

My life twisted into something dark and horrifying, my future was already determined from the moment I was born. Instead of thinking about my future, I thought about my fate. My death would never be determined, I could step outside right now and be shot directly in the forehead. The ending of my life wasn't my choice, and it wasn't God's choice. It was whoever decided they wanted me dead. As long as I was smart enough, I could live to see thirty.

During my history lessons, I learned that the mafia was nothing more than a family of criminals, doing the dirty work for higher families. I learned that this organization originated in Sicily during the 19th century, and I learned I could die if I ever broke Omerta. Which is literally a code of silence, if you see anything regarding the mafia and you go to the police, you die. No questions asked. No hesitation.

We lived by Omerta and 'silenzioso, ma attento'

Silent, but Observant. Move quietly, but keep an eye out for any and everything. Never let something unnoticed go by you.

My parents were born and raised in Vernice, Italy.

I was born and raised in Chicago and never had a permanent home, besides the one I'm currently living in. We're always moving to different parts of Chicago to complete a mission. Once we finish, we come right back here.

I don't have any brothers or sisters, I'm an only child. This means I'm my father's underboss, my mother didn't want the job because she enjoyed being the Mafia Queen, but I was the fiercest in the family. I always got my assignments done correctly, I was looked at as cold-blooded. Being able to murder people without thinking twice about it, cleaning up my mess better than my own father could.

I was enough to be the underboss, my father doesn't want other members of the family to take over once he's dead because he knows only I can hold the legacy. Keep his legacy alive. I didn't want to agree to it, I don't even like this, but I don't want to disappoint my father, so I agreed.

Being in this isn't for the light-hearted or for those with weak stomaches, when you kill you have to do it quickly. No stalling. No hesitating. The enemy will immediately see this and use it to their advantage, killing you on the spot.

I look down at my legs, they are pretty shiny since I had gotten out of the shower a while ago and I lotioned myself too perfectly. Perfectly smooth skin.

I place my cigarette into the ashtray and blow out the remaining smoke left from my mouth. I'm sitting on the roof, next to my bedroom. It's nighttime, I'm not sure what time it is. But I love this, just sitting on my roof, looking over the house. At absolutely nothing, in particular, no civilization. No cars.

Just trees and grass, I miss the city. I love it so much, being near the people. The wind blows and it causes goosebumps to rise on my exposed arms, I'm wearing a white tank top with black and white patterned pajama bottoms. Inside the house is the main Marinos. My dad, Piero. My mom, Elenora. My aunt, Elena, and her husband, Vincenzo. Along with their son, Lorenzo, who's fifteen.

I'm eighteen years old, still living in the Marino household, in this family we all live together. My father always says we're better united than far apart, there is some truth to that. The wind blows my black hair back behind me, I smile at this. I love nature, preferably, the summer. The summer air just feels so fucking good, too damn good.

"Maya?" My aunt's voice, Elena, I don't turn back to look at her. Instead, I keep staring at the stars. Stars are so beautiful, the way they twinkle in the nighttime. Elena sits down next to me, hugging her legs up close. Elena is young, thirty years old, she had Enzo at fifteen. Wild thing was, my grandparents weren't upset with her, in fact, they were ecstatic. So I'm told. When I'm boss, I want Lorenzo to be my underboss.

She grabs my cigarette pack and opens it up, counting how many are in there. She does this very often. "Five left." She says as if I didn't know. She places the pack next to me again, I can feel her stare on the side of my face. I don't flinch and I don't turn to look at her, I ignore it.

"Maya." She whispers, I sigh in defeat as I finally turn my head to look at her. "Are you okay?" She asks me and I shrug. "I'm fine, just doing the usual," I tell her, Elena is the consigliere, she gives us advice on everything. Personal issues and mafia issues. She's very good at it. Vincenzo is the leader of our soldiers, the Capo. When we go on missions, he leads the other family members on what to do.

The soldiers are usually the young ones in our family like Lorenzo for example. Lorenzo and my other young cousins, ages fifteen to seventeen, have to do what Vince says. Vince does what I say, and I do what dad says. In the end, dad always makes the decisions. The Capos are the older men, my uncles.

Then we have the associates, these are people who married into our family. People like Vince, only got a higher ranking because Dad trusts him with his life and because Vince had been around since they were kids. Vince's original parents were part of the mafia, but the Morelli's killed them. Trying to get to us. Vince was then placed in foster care where the family lost him but quickly found him.

The Morelli's had been warring with us for centuries, it all starting with a Marino murdering a Morcelli, Dad told me the story about it being accidental. But the Morcelli family doesn't believe in accidents, they thought it was done with ill intent, and purposely. So for centuries, the two families went back and forth, killing each other, until my mother had enough. The Morcellis killed dad's father, Piero.

Dad wanted revenge, he wanted the Morcellis gone once and for all, but then they had me. The entire family knew how sick and twisted the other family could be, how they could kill me just to get back at the other family members. So dad agreed with Mom and they called a truce, I was eight years old when that happened. It happened a week after I found out the truth.

"Looking at the stars?" I forgot she was up here with me, I was so engrossed in my own thoughts. "Yeah, wishing I could be anything but this," I whispered, only Elena knows the truth about how I feel about all of this. Her arm wrapped around me and only then, when I was under her warmth, that I realized how cold I had been. "I know you hate it, but look at the bright side-"

"What bright side, Elena? The money? I'd rather be broke and poor than murder people to get paid." I explained to her. "Stai zitto, your father would have your tongue

if he ever heard you say that." I pressed my lips together because it was true, Dad would probably cut my tongue off if he ever heard me speak in that way. That's how Dad is, he's ruthless, even towards his own family. But God help anyone who disrespects us in any kind of way.

I sighed and closed my eyes. It was quiet for a moment. "Why'd you come up here, anyway?" I as her, shattering the silence into millions of tiny pieces. Elena doesn't answer me, so I look up at her. "Your father wanted to speak with you." She says and I nod, knowing it'll be one of two things. I have a new mission, or we all have a new mission.

I move out of Elena's embrace and I crawl over to my window, my right leg is inside my bedroom and I'm preparing to enter it when Elena speaks. "The bright side," She begins, not looking back at me. "Is that no matter what happens to you, you have the knowledge that you'll always be protected. That if anybody ever lays a hand on you, someone will be there to cut it off. Not everyone has that, non essere ingrato." I don't say anything else to her as I enter my bedroom.

I leave out of the room and walk downstairs where his office is, Mom is sitting on a recliner flipping through a magazine with her freshly manicured fingers. My mom is one of the most beautiful women I know, her dark brown hair cascades down her shoulders. Her skin is clear of any acne, her eyebrows are arched to perfection, and her skin is as smooth as silk. She did pass her beauty down to me, I'll be forever grateful.

She doesn't look up from her magazine as I walk past, muttering hello mom, as I twist the doorknob to my fathers' office. When I enter, he's sitting down in his black leather chair. A glass of champagne is in his hand and he looks at me with a blank expression. Dad never shows what he's feeling, he always keeps it a secret.

He motions towards the door, so I shut it behind me and I sit down on the soft chair that's in front of his mahogany desk. "Yes?"

"Another member is dead, this is the fifth person this week." I sit up straighter in my seat at this information, when he says another member, he usually refers to people who work for us.

"Leonardo, Nicoli, Sofia, Rosa, and Marco." He lists the names of them as he pushes their photos toward me, I don't remember any of them other than Rosa, she was pregnant with her third child. I look down at the photos of their dead bodies. Dad has a source that works for the police.

"Leo was murdered with a gun that he didn't even own, they made it look like a suicide. One bullet in his forehead." I wince at that. "Nic's wrists and throat were slit, based on what his family said, he wasn't depressed nor a cutter at all. Sofia was found hanging from her ceiling fan, but she died from a broken neck. And Rosa had no reason to be suicidal, she was very happy with her family. Plus, she was pregnant. She was shot in her stomach."

I blew out a breath and ran a hand through my hair, this was a lot of information to digest. "Were there fingerprints or anything?" I asked and he shook his head, wow they were good. But why? And who would do this?

These are the lowest ranks of our family, so why would they even? "Do you know who it could be?" His eyes hardened at this question and I prayed that his next words would be he didn't know, because if he did know. There is only one other family who would do this, one other family who has it out for us.

"The Morelli's."