Chapter 1

 “Mamma?’ I yelled into the dark. “Coming.” The immediate response gave me instant relief. I was currently lying on the cold bathroom floor of my childhood home. Having just threw up last night’s dinner. Everything hurt on my body. From the top of my head, all the way down to my baby toe. Being a typical seventeen year old girl, needing my mother was somewhat embarrassing. Lying on the bathroom floor was not much better. I pull my raven colored hair back into a pony at the base of my neck, pulled myself up to the sink to brush the putrid taste from my mouth.  

 “What has you so Malata?” my mother questioned lovingly. My great grandfather, Lorenzo, immigrated from Italy when he was eighteen years old. Landing in New York city and never leaving. Being from an Italian family made for an interesting upbringing. One I wouldn’t change for anything. 

“Unfortunately, I am thinking it was the Risotto.” I responded. My mother made the best Risotto in the town. Everyone knew it. The dish was one of the most requested at any gathering. So to accuse my mothers Risotto as the culprit of my stomach ailment was borderline sacreligious. 

My mother scuffed, offended, like I thought she would be, “It was not my Risotto. That was Nonna's recipe, may she rest in peace.” She deadpanned, while making a cross sign across her chest. The act brought a small smile to my face even though it was hard. I felt terrible and I have been feeling terrible for weeks. I do not tell my mother that though. 

“Mamma, I feel like merda.” I said weakly. We spoke English as our primary language, however, Italian slipped in from time to time. I was raised in the United States as was my mother and father. However, being from a strong Italian family, like mine, you were raised to speak both, fluently. 

“I will tell papa that you cannot make it today.” my mother offered with a solemn face. I was due to be at work this morning. I needed to go, I had to figure out what was going on with my body. Not looking forward to it. 

“No, no do not do that. I am needed at the store.” If there was one thing that had been ingrained in my head since I could remember, it was that you did not call into work. Even if you felt like you might actually be dying. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“Well, if you are sure, I can give you exactly 27 minutes.” My mother offered looking down at her watch. Groaning, I walked out of the bathroom, into my bedroom to get ready, quickly. “I hear you Mamma.”

Downstairs, dressed and ready for the day, “I am feeling much better now.” Mamma studied me for several minutes and then raised her shoulder and sighed. “Will Luka be coming tonight?”

Luka Salvatore, my boyfriend. I sighed at the thought of him. We have been dating for eight months, but have known each other since we were five years old. Just recently our relationship has taken a turn to the more serious side. I care for him deeply, I always have. So attentive and sweet. He is the perfect gentleman and boyfriend. As far as I can tell the only thing that is wrong with him is his father. Carlos Salvatore, famed crime boss. He scared the living shit out of me. I avoid seeing him or being anywhere he might be, at all cost. I was anything but rich and beautiful. Carlos Salvatore did not have a problem with reminding me of that any chance he got. Somehow, none of that made a difference to Luka though. He loved me despite what his father wanted. 

I refer to Carlos Salvatoreas as my monster, I call him this only in my head,  and I have since I was five years old. The worst kind of human there is, preying on the weak and stealing incessance of the young. Just thinking his name brings back my first memory of him. I was playing at the local creek with my mother. Not many people knew of the spot, it was kind of like our little secret paradise. 

My mother was laying back on the sandy beach that lined the shore. Mother tried to sneak away from the store every couple of weeks, for some me time. She would tote me along and I loved it. That particular day, I had wandered down the shore line several yards, while my mother relaxed, looking for shiny rocks, like any five year old would do. Squatting down to pick up a pretty pink one, I heard a loud grunt, followed by what sounded like a thud. Being a curious child I leaned around a fallen tree, to see what was making the noise.  I saw what looked like an enormous, scary man shoveling dirt into a hole in the ground. What could he be looking for out here, I wondered if it was buried treasure.  Just then I hear my Mamma calling my name. Looking in the direction that she called from, I turn back and lock eyes with a monster. I know he is a monster instantly. I know this because I have read many stories about monsters and they always give me goosebumps. His eyes pierce my soul and instantly give me goosebumps. Turning on my heel I run as fast as my short legs can carry me, back to my Mamma. I never mentioned what I saw that day to anyone and i have not been back to that creek.  A week after that day, I met Luka at the park. Playing tag and hide in seek, we were instant friends and have been ever since. I had no idea who his father was until going over to his house for a playdate. My daydreaming is interrupted by my mothers’ laugh.

“I can see that you are smitten with this giovantto. Just please be careful, you have such a bright future and his family….”

“I know Mamma, I know what I am doing.” Oh, I knew who his family was. Carlos Salvatore had never tried to hurt me and I am not sure he even knows that I am the same girl from the woods. But I know who he is and what he is capable of. Nonetheless, he still scares me and tells me that I am not good enough for his son. The truth was, I had no idea what I was doing. I never went over to his house after the first time. I was so scared of the monster.

My Mamma had always told me when I woke in the night, that the monsters were not real. I knew better though. My monster was very real and very scary.

“Okay, Cara, okay, no more prying from me. You will let me know if you need me, though.” It was not a question my mother was asking, but I shook my head anyways. 

“I need to get going, or I will be late. Do not want the boss to get angry.” My mother just smiled, shaking her head, as I raced out of the house.