Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Katekyo hitman Reborn or its characters.
I only own Isabella and her famiglia and the plot. ©
[Hayato] ·Invisible As the Wind· [Gokudera]
One by one, the million dollar estates in Lattarico Italy, twinkled to life as they announced the Christmas season. Each elaborate display of multicolored lights and fragrant evergreens was testament to the annual Mafia Contest whose grand prize was two to Hawaii. The lone exception to the festive season was the unlighted house at 254634 Frazione Piretto.
Isabella waited, her entire body trembling, for the door to open. The terrier at her feet hugged her ankles, then started to whimper.
Isabella let her gaze sweep through the rooms. The maids hovering in one spot as they gave her a frightened expression, as she turned her head slightly to the door. She was never a fan of grand furniture's or costly things, all she cared about was the home being cozy and comfortable, but her father Giovanni lived to outdo his neighbors and family with fine things.
Her image bounced off the mirror in the foyer-the image her father would see when he opened the door. Maybe she should have slipped on the frilly dress he bought her instead of the sweats. Surely those brown eyes full of terror weren't hers. Would the rich chestnut hair piled into a messy bun stay in its place once Giovanni entered the house? Who was this short, shapely girl? A girl who was deathly afraid of her father, she answered herself. She wished she could lie down and go to sleep for a week. She wished she had the courage to run out into the night and never return. She wished she was never born. She wished for many things, but most of all she wished for peace and harmony. None of her wishes was within her grasp.
Isabella tore her gaze away from the foyer mirror.
The car had careened into the driveway much too fast. The slams of doors was too forceful, too loud. All indications that Giovanni Rossellini was in a rage. When her father was in one of his rages, she ended up bruised and bloody. An icy chill ran down Isabella's spine. The little dog whimpered.
"Go in your bed, Lucy. Hurry! Run, Lucy!" The little do listened to the terror in her mistress's voice and scampered off, her pudgy rear end wobbling from side to side.
"Hurry girls, Run out the back door as fast as you can. Quick! Don't let him catch you please! The maids quickly scurried off as they heard the pure terror in Isabella's voice, the hoped she would come out of this alive.
Her eyes full of fear, her shoulders stiff with apprehension, Isabella struggled for a light tone when the front door burst opened.
"Hello, Father, did you have a good day?" she wondered if the terror showed on her face. Obviously it did, because Giovanni's eyes narrowed to slits as he strode through the living room stopping in the doorway to the dining room, where she was standing. He was so close she could smell his breath.
"I thought I told you to be ready when I got home. Christ Almighty, do you ever
do anything you're told?"
"I am ready, father. All I have to do is slip on my dress. It's hanging and I didn't want it to wrinkle," Isabella said, her gaze never leaving her father's face.
"Then why in the goddamn hell did you make me buy that dress? Your going to look like a fucking bag lady by the time we get to the party."
"Then I'll wear something different. Its not a problem, honestly because Im not required to attend."
"Do fucking talk back with your smart ass remarks, young lady. Do I have to do all your thinking? Why can't you ever make a decent decision? You're suppose to wear something festive and sparkly to capture a young Mafioso's heart. Your just a boring girl that can't do anything right!"
Maybe if she turned now and headed for the bedroom, he'd let it go. Maybe a lot of things. She wasn't going to move, and she knew it. How could she? Her feet were rooted to the floor. Giovanni stepped forward and then to the side, his feet scattering pine needles that had dropped from the Christmas tree.
"What the fuck do you do all day, Isabella? Why are the needles all over the goddamn floor? Look! They're all over the dining room table too/ How goddamn hard is it to clean up pine needles?"
Isabella's voice was a mere whisper. "The evergreens are dry. I did sprinkle water on the centerpiece. There's water in the tree stand. I cleaned it several times today. The tree and centerpiece are two weeks old," she murmured. She wasn't sure if her father heard her defense or not. In the end, it wouldn't matter.
"Are you telling me I made a bad choice when I picked out the tree and the centerpiece?" His voice was so ugly, so hateful, she felt her insides start to shrivel.
Yes, yes, yes. " That's not what I said , father. The trees are dry from the lack of rain this summer. The man at the tree stand told us that when we bought the tree. It's been on the news, too. The commentators are warning people to be careful of Christmas tree fires."
"I didn't hear the tree man say that, and I sure as hell didn't hear it on the news either. You're just one fucking excuse after another. Clean up this damn mess or we're going to be late."
To Giovanni, cleaning up the mess meant dragging out the vacuum cleaner, brushing the needles into a neat pile, then scooping them up with a dustpan followed by a thorough vacuuming. The centerpiece would require a clean tablecloth and then more needles would fall. the vacuum would have to be returned to the closet. More time, thirty minutes at best. Those thirty minutes would make them late for the Vongola's yearly Christmas party. She wanted to cry. Instead she bit down on her lower lip until she tasted her own blood. She had to get the vacuum cleaner and she had to get it now.
don't look at his eyes. Just get the vacuum. easy to say, not so easy to do. "I'll just be a minute, father."
"A minute my ass. It's going to take you at least half an hour if you do it right. You still have to get dresses. You should have been dressed and waiting at the door. The ninth hates it when anyone is late. He plans on some big announcement this evening. How's it going to look when we arrive and hour late?"
Isabella's shoulders slumped. There would be no party for her tonight. Just do it, father, and get it over with. Beat me black-and-blue and then storm out of the house. Do it already., her mind shrieked.
She took the first blow high on her cheekbone. The second punch sent her reeling backward straight into the Christmas tree, toppling it sideways. She was aware of tinkling glass and a flurry of pine needles whipping past her fast. She felt her own warm blood trickling down her cheek and neck. Stitches. God in heaven, what excuse would she give the E.R people this time? She struggled herself right, but the prickly, dry pine branches were everywhere. Suddenly she was yanked upright, her head jerking backward. A hand driving a punch to her chest threw her into the tree a second time. She screamed before she lost her breath. "stop! Please, father, stop! Go to the party, I'll clean this up. Tell them I have the flu. Please father!"
"Damn right, you'll clean this mess up. I'm tired of lying for you. You ruin everything! You think you know everything, you're just like my mother and sister, but they have brains. You're fucking stupid, Isabella. There's not in a brain in your head."
Gasping for breath, Isabella struggled to extricate herself from the Christmas tree. She was on her knees when she saw her father raise his foot. She tried to roll away but the trunk of the huge evergreen and its branches held her prisoner as her father foot shot forward with 180 pounds of force. She screamed and screamed as hot flashing pain seared her body. She knew she was going to black out. She even welcomed the darkness she would slip into only two thoughts on her mind. Lucy and Reborn.