Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

She Is Still Here

**ROMANY**

Before the jet begins its descent, I see we are close to the beach. There are more skyscrapers out here than there are in downtown Blake and although I've never seen it, I suddenly know where we are. "You live in Eastside," I said conversationally, without taking my eyes away from the window.

"Right. The Borderlands to be exact," Mickey answered.

Something about his voice sounded different and I ripped my eyes away from the view outside to gaze in his direction. He was turned away, a contemplative hand posed just beneath his chin as his thumb traced back and forth over his jawline. My eyes fixated on it, the drag of his thumb over the expertly shaved flesh beneath it. His dark eyebrows were furrowed, his plump lips pursed in displeasure as he stared through the glass with stormy green eyes. It was a look I hadn't seen on him before. One that spoke of his truer nature and for a moment I wondered what he was like when he was truly angry, or raging, or worse. As unhealthy as it might sound, I suddenly wanted to push him there, just to know. I wanted to see him in every light, not just the one he works overtime to show to me. His frustration with my unwillingness to accept what I'm sure he *believes* is the truth, should not be the pebble in his shoe. It is *my* problem, not his. As he's made painfully clear already.

not be dead, and he's talking about vacations and foreign fucking beaches.* I can't possibly be *that* important to him anyway. He'll get over it and if he doesn't... then maybe he'll

thinking about how manipulative I've been acting lately. Especially when it comes to this new group of men in my life. *I've never been that kind of person before. Not ever.* Thanks to Matthew, I*know* how horrible it feels to have your emotions

with her that I do. It's a kind of kinship that fuses souls together from birth so that when one of you is gone, the other knows it. It is a true and very real thing, despite that some may not believe. It is my opinion that *those* people, the ones who can't fathom such things, have never felt truly connected to anyone. I don't know, maybe it's because they're cold and unfeeling, or maybe it's because they were raised without love... there are a ton of

I know it is. For one thing, I have felt such the

was in the middle of a presentation for my Interpersonal Communications class when I was suddenly overcome with a brain crushing headache and nearly passed out. My professor (an actual one, not a predator one) forced me out of the classroom and onto a bench just outside of the wing, gifting me with fresh air. She sat there with me while I panted for breath and helped to massage my head where it hurt. I was nearly in tears as the pain seemed to stretch over my entire body with an aching heaviness that seemed to consume me. But then, just as suddenly, the pain disappeared and I was left feeling raw and unstable. Although I was flooded with relief that the suffering was over and my professor was over the moon with joy to not have a student keel over dead right in front of her, something else began to happen. An intense sadness began to creep into my heart and without knowing exactly why, I excused myself to call my mother. It wasn't the way that some might think. I didn't instant;y know she was gone. I just knew that she was the first person I should call. So, I did.

And when I pictured her face... I just knew. I