Alessa Marino<br/><br/><a class="link link--external" href="https://postimg.cc/4HdVvLtD" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">
<img class="bbImage lazyload lazyload" data-src="https://i.postimg.cc/4HdVvLtD/Alessa1.jpg" data-url="https://i.postimg.cc/4HdVvLtD/Alessa1.jpg" height="" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" style="" width=""/>
<span style="display: inline !important;"><img class="bbImage lazyload" data-url="https://i.postimg.cc/4HdVvLtD/Alessa1.jpg" height="" pr9peqqj2="" src="https://i.postimg.cc/4HdVvLtD/Alessa1.jpg" style="" width=""/></span>
</a><br/><br/><br/>Silence. It can be deafening. It can cause things to seem far more heavy than they actually are. Silence really isn't silence at all. It screams volumes. Most of the time people don't want to listen to it. That's why they drown it out with menial tasks and distractions. Such was not the case this day. Business was business and family was family. While Lessa didn't like to mix the two on certain occasions, she thought it was needed today.<br/><br/><br/>"Yeah," she breathed into the phone, trying to keep her tone managed and the volume of her voice under a certain level. "He says can't pay. I have to respect that. I mean what more can I do? I have to wait until he can. Right?" A soft chuckle into the phone as her lips curled into a smirk. "No. Not him. Not her either." She breathed deeply into the phone, her eyes forward, as if fixed on something that wasn't there. "Her," she said, her voice making it clear what she meant. "He's in for 5 thousand. Restrain him with her bound as well. Have his wife there too restrained right beside him. Take the girl and hold her head under water until she's just on the brink of death. Pull her up, let her have the air she so desperately needs, and then plunge her head back in. Do this once for every thousand he owes. Then, when you're done and she's on the floor screaming, crying, begging for it to stop, tell him that maybe next time my guys forget how to tell time and leave her down for too long. Tell him maybe next time my guys go after his wife. Now he can pay up, or he can sign his little business over to me. It makes money. I'll take either one, but what I won't take are excuses. You make sure he's clear on that and then leave them. They can figure out how to get each other free."<br/><br/><br/>A press of a button ended the call, and Lessa dropped her phone into her pocket. She brushed her hair back and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to stabilize her emotions. If there was one thing she didn't want, it was to go back into the same room as her mother with her being able to read it all over her face that she had been working. It was a gift in her eyes to be able to work with her mother at all. Lessa loved her mother, adored her even. To be like her would be….unimaginable. Sure there were other things she could do to earn a living, there were other things within the family she could do, and in fact there was a place she wanted to be, but there was something holding her back. Instead she nestled herself within the family in a place she felt loved and comfortable. Also it was pretty hard to deny the fact she had a talent for what she did.<br/><br/><br/>Brisk steps carried back into the room with her mother, where she picked up a knife and reached for the melanzana.  Inhaling deeply she smiled. "Smells great Madre. Always does." The blade sliced through, hitting the cutting board beneath, making a sharp thud. Her manicured fingers slipped back further as over and over the knife sliced through with ease. "So everybody is coming? Everybody," she asked, knowing the names she wanted to hear. Of course she dared not look at her mother. Lessa feared her face would show more than her voice let on. "Oh and please tell me there is no chocolate amaretti cake or tiramisu. Madre I told you I don't eat that stuff anymore. Makes me balloon out," she told her, laughing slightly before puffing her cheeks out.