#13

MEDDIE’S POV

Have you ever seen a mafia movie or read a mafia book online? If no then let me give you a quick rundown of how things usually go.

There’s two types of girls a mafia guy might like in these stories: one who’s the tough girl, hard shell, softie inside, two someone who’s a softie inside and out.

The mafia guy falls in love with her at first sight, but won’t ever acknowledge that, something about a fragile male ego. He either likes the fighting spirit of the tough girl, who’d fight anyone and anything without a second thought and defies him at every turn or the naturally submissive nature of the softie girl who wouldn’t be able to withstand a small glare from him.

Then he promptly kidnaps the girl, restricts her communication with family and friends, threatens said family and friends, restricts her from speaking to any other guy and if she ‘defies’ him, then he ‘punishes’ her – almost always sexual – bleh bleh bleh. He acts like an asshole even though he himself is the one who couldn’t pursue a girl normally and get to know her before literally uprooting her life back to square one.

Oh and he always has a side chick who’s been in love with him since childhood, and he never has any idea whatsoever about this. She silently broods and hatches plans to kill the girl who in the side chick’s mind “stole her man”.

Then there’s some character development for both the hero and heroine. The heroine – softie or tough girl – gets to know about past situations of the hero’s life and starts to understand him in a better light. The tough girl becomes tougher but also starts to fall in love with the mafia guy. The softie either becomes tough or stays a softie but learns how to backtalk and how to stand up for herself. The asshole mafia guy can also go one of two ways: one, he becomes a softie only for the heroine’s eyes and admits he loves her; two, this happens very rarely, he becomes a softie for the heroine and decides to leave the mafia behind.

There’s a villain, as is in every story. It’s either a female or a male or both. The villain is one of the following: she/he is an obsessed lover of the mafia guy or the heroine and can’t take a hint, or she/he has some idiotic vendetta against the mafia guy and wants to destroy him by killing the love of his life (heroine) in front of his eyes, or she/he is a petty person who has petty issues like not having their nails trimmed and they want to create havoc in the heroine and hero’s life. There’s a big fight, the hero gets trapped without a weapon and the heroine comes in guns blazing at the end moment to save him.

In between all this ruckus, there’s love, hate, jealousy, pettiness, revenge, issue resolution – usually the hero’s relationship with either his father or mother or siblings or maybe even himself – and much more.

Now after the villain/villains are dead, the ending can take a few different paths. One, hero and heroine fall in love, no problems whatsoever, a perfect happy ending with rainbows, unicorns, flowers and hearts.

Two, hero and heroine separate, a sad but slightly realistic end. But honestly who wants this ending to a mafia story? There’s a reason why it’s called dark fiction.

Three, the heroine and hero separate, the heroine starts a business or finishes her studies and starts a career, meanwhile the hero still runs the mafia, both of them slowly realize they love each other and have a reunion and then get a rainbows and unicorns ending.

Four, one of the two, hero or heroine, is dead and the other person either becomes good or does good (mafia guy), or becomes depressed but knows that it’s for the best (heroine). Oh! And there’s a baby involved too.

Final, either the hero or the heroine is on death bed – severely injured to the point of feeling like having been shot straight in the head – and the other person confesses their love. There’s also a period of coma involved many a times.

This is relevant because this is the exact story line happening to me in real life right now. This list of rules promised to me by that baboon butt sits in front of me, phrased like a fucking poem.

Don’t disobey,

Don’t disrespect,

If you love your family and friends,

Obey my every word,

You won’t like the consequences of your disobedience,

I’ll make you watch your family getting tortured,

Serve all of your conjugal duties,

Anytime, anywhere I demand,

Try to run, I’ll break your legs,

Try to kill me, I’ll break your soul,

Everything is a privilege,

Earned by good behavior,

Stand behind me, look pretty, I’ll reward you,

Stand against me, I’ll destroy you,

Mark my words,

I give you my word,

Be good for me,

I’ll reward you with riches,

Be bad with me,

I’ll enjoy your fight in bed,

Don’t give me a reason to be bad,

And I’ll protect you from the evils of this world.

What the actual fuck?! My brain is frazzled. Unable to process these idiotic words on this piece of paper.

I get out of the room to search for that bhenchod. Seeing him in the dining room, sipping coffee and looking through his phone like he didn’t just send me this idiotic rule list, makes me want to commit murder. (Sisterfucker.)

‘This bitch thinks he can just come in and dictate my life? Hell no!!’

“ What the fuck is this?” I scream. He raises his head five seconds later, nonchalantly.

“What is what?”

“This fucking excuse of a poem! These fucking rules! You’ve already threatened me a thousand times. It doesn’t work anymore.”

Before he could respond, a deep voice interrupted, “Who the fuck is shouting in my house?”

‘Of course this fucker had to cross paths with me today!’

“Welcome sasur ji.” I give him an incandescent smile. “Ab is bhenchod ko kya chahiye?” I shake my head and look at their faces. “Oops did I say something wrong?” (Father-in-law. Now what does this sisterfucker want?)

“You need to stop talking in Indian.” The baboon butt says.

“You need to stop being an asshole. Duffer! But we don’t always get what we want, do we?” I ask.

“Who’re you calling a duffer?”

“You’re an educated nincompoop. Did you know that?”

I’m distracted from his fierce gaze by the sudden small gasping sound. I turn around to find the baboon’s mother standing at the doorway. And by the look on her face, she heard my banter with the apes.

“Honey you should-“ she stops talking, to most probably look at her ape shit husband behind me. “What were you saying Fia?” I question.

She looks back at me, even more shocked than before. ‘Yeah I can see what’s happening here. This piece of donkey shit controls her life. Just like his piece of dog fart son is trying to control mine.’

“Shut up!” my husband shouts at me. “You shut up you disrespectful toad!” I retort right back.

“Control your wife Damiano, or I’ll take my position back. You’re not fit to be king if you can’t control one little girl.”

‘Just who I wanted to hear spewing words.’ I think…or not.

“You little puttana!” Damiano’s father roars and advances towards me. Seeing her raging worthless husband, Fia tries to placate him. (Whore!)

“Igor don’t-“ she tries to say but the bastard pushes her harshly, resulting in her falling. He takes a tight grip of my bicep.

In the next few seconds, I black out of my conscious mind and my subconscious takes perfect action.

I raise my other hand, slap the old bastard, full force. Hit his saggy ball sack with a hard knee. And since he bent down to nurse his groin, I take a shot at an uppercut. Unfortunately, it wasn’t powerful enough to break his nose, but made him bleed. And that made me content inside.

But in my haze, I didn’t pay attention to the other fart standing there and he got a chance to hold me captive against his body. My back to his front.

“You just gave yourself a big punishment. Although I must admit, I would’ve never found out you have potential if not for this situation, with all the crying you’ve done since we met.”

“Can you close your sewer mouth for five damn minutes Damiano? Bhenchod!” This got his smug ass to stop smiling. (Sisterfucker!)