ROSARI

Rosari Maranzo lives a very dreadful life. It's been this way since the day she was conceived. Her father despises her-this is no news to any within the Maranzo estate. He treats her like people would a criminal, except Rosari has done absolutely nothing on that scale.

Her mother remains the only positive figure. An outlet for comfort and a shoulder to cry on in times of need. They were all the other had, trapped in the confines of that estate, surrounded by men and guards that paid them no mind. It was within that gaping loneliness that her mother told her stories. There were even talks of visiting her home country, Pakistan, but because of Enzo's unwillingness to cooperate, it never came full circle. This was the first of Rosari's memories detailing her father's bitterness.

Once as a child, Rosari wondered if Enzo truly was her father, because surely a man this spiteful couldn't possibly be related by blood. But each time the questions were stirred, she was solemnly reassured by her own mother. Yes, indeed, Enzo was her biological father. So Rosari believed her mother. Then on the day Enzo failed to attend her sixth birthday party, Rosari had clung to her mother in tears.

"Your father's just a very busy man." Her mother told her. "He won't show it, but he loves you."

Rosari believed her once again. The idea of a father loathing their own child was not a concept simple enough for a six year old to comprehend. Perhaps if she tried hard enough he would look her way. So she took it upon herself to win his favor. Gifts, compliments, and handmade crafts were only a few methods conjured by Rosari. But each time, she was met by a barrage of insults.

Except she never gave up. It would only be a matter of time before Enzo caved in and saw for himself the caring daughter he'd shunned. It mattered little if he shredded her drawings or stuffed her gifts in the trash. All Rosari wanted was her father's affection.

Then reality finally settled in. It happened a couple days after Rosari's eighth birthday. It's the day she realized she had no father. The day she realized Enzo Maranzo was indeed the devil.

Rosari was there when it happened; her mother's death. A chronic disease she'd been suffering from, one that would have bettered were it not for the fact that she was abandoned and left to fend for herself. And since it had been left untreated, it ruptured part of her kidneys and ultimately confined her to a bed. No help offered for her bedridden mother. They locked her up in a room until her final moments.

"We have to get help. She's not moving!" Rosari had suggested, eyes wild with fear.

Enzo stood with a hand up to his mouth, as if to keep his disgust in. But the gesture did more to emphasize the disgust than it did to prevent it. "She's finally dying. About time."

Rosari had the same look of terror to her eyes, except this time, it was directed at her father. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I've been waiting for her time to run out. Now she's finally out of my hands."

These weren't words an eight year old could comprehend. ". . . but daddy, she's-"

"You call me that again and you'll be meeting your mother in hell." Enzo said. "If she'd given me a son, she wouldn't be laying there lifeless. So really, it's all your fault." Then he left the room. So casually and so calmly. As if his wife hadn't just met her end in front of him.

The two have never seen eye to eye ever since, both in the figurative and literal sense. Enzo prefers Rosari on the other end of the estate, the part where he rarely ever visits, because she reminds him of the failure she is. She reminds him of the son he could've had, the son who could've inherited his greatness.

And so Rosari exists as a separate entity within the estate. There's little care for her. No courtesy, not even the safeguarding expected of a mafia head's kin. No one respects an individual someone else of a much higher status deems trivial. Such are Enzo's feelings towards Rosari. So the guards all shun her, give her little acknowledgement, and mock her on some occasions. Her father encourages the behavior. Participates even. It's something Rosari has grown used to. It's her daily life.

Aside from her father's blatant disdain, Rosari has found that Enzo is a man whose morals were cast to the side the moment he was born. He intentionally deals drugs to people he knows won't be able to pay him back. Then when the time comes, he hunts them down and sells them off to some human trafficker as a means for repayment. He calls it "atoning for their debts", because they return the favor only in the ways he chooses.

Rosari had been unfortunate enough to witness an example. Late at night it was when the then sixteen year old wandered out her bedroom and onto the scene that augmented her contempt for Enzo.

There were two men and a woman, all in haggard clothes and trembling in fear. "Their organs will fetch for a hefty price, don't you think?" Enzo had questioned his colleague who found the whole thing as entertaining as Enzo himself.

The order was given for the first victim to be ransacked and stripped of their organs. Enzo had the last two victims watch, because he wanted them to know what was coming. Meanwhile, Rosari witnessed the scene through the gap in the door. The screams, the blood, the sickening squelching of the knives against the skin. She'd lost days of sleep and appetite from that night alone. And though she had preferred living anywhere else than that estate, running away was never an option.

Enzo keeps a tight grip around Rosari despite the fact that he despises her. He uses her for his own personal gain; putting her up for auctions to help rake in profits. He knows her looks are a deal breaker for many, so he demands her attendance at the auctions. Then he keeps the profits for himself. He thinks providing her with a roof over her head is already enough payment. Neverminding the hostility that comes with it.

This happens every first Saturday of each month. Now in a fitting black dress and stilettos, Rosari sits in a chair behind the stage awaiting the auction. The crowd this time appears bigger than last, seeing as their applause alone rattles Rosari's seat.

The same woman who's always in charge of Rosari's appearance comes to make sure her make-up is set. Lisa puts her time and effort into the outfits and overall image. Rosari figures she must be aware of her rocky relationship with Enzo, because she speaks to her quite passively. And since Lisa receives her own share of payment from Enzo, she turns a blind eye to such treatment. What goes on between the two is of no concern to her. Not that Rosari expected it to be. But to have no one on her side is a mark of loneliness she's been forced to carry.

"You're up next, hon." Says Lisa as she smacks on some piece of gum. There's always a smile when she says this. Rosari thinks it's to mock her, because there's never any warmth behind it. But like everything else in her dreadful life, she puts up with it.

When all is finally done, Lisa leads Rosari to the queue area behind the curtain.

"Next up is one of today's main items," The host announces from the stage. Rosari grips her dress into her fists. To be treated like an item is something she will never grow accustomed to. "Enzo Maranzo's daughter herself!" There's a clamorous round of applause for her. It doesn't occur to the guests present that the auction may just be a tad bit immoral. Their involvement in illicit activities seems to have already warped their perception of right and wrong.

Rosari is called up to the stage. The crowd is indeed large, full of men and women of Enzo's calibur. The spotlight is on her, one of the main events of the evening. She scans the place until she finds Enzo who has a scowl despite the fact that she's a means of profit for him. Rosari exhales and looks away. The sooner it ends, the better.

"We're going to start the bid off at one hundred thousand dollars." Announcer urges, his hand firm around the microphone.

"A hundred and fifty thousand dollars." Says a man in the front.

"Two hundred thousand." Another follows.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand!"

"Five hundred thousand!"

They go at it this way until a victor emerges. In the end, Rosari is sold for a whopping seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The man wakes from his seat and goes to claim his price with the crowd applauding his win.

It's another middle aged man; wrinkles, graying hair, eye bags. The usual. Rosari sighs when she sees him approaching, already vexed at having to deal with yet another cocky mobster. The two walk off to the side with the man trying to pick up some conversation. But Rosari's well of solicitude has long since run dry.

The victors are always of the same age range and class; thirties through seventies, wealthy, some involvement with the mafia, a family that matters very little to them, arrogance. Rosari has seen them all. They take her out to dinner and ask her out on dates. Sometimes, a conversation is all they seek. But that's where the favors end. She will not be seen with either of these men in private but always in public, lest they try kidnapping her.

There was even a case when a man in his late seventies had demanded she gave him a kiss, and upon her refusal had tried forcing himself on her. This was all in the middle of a restaurant. Who knows what these men would have her do in private?

Ever since, Rosari has set her boundaries and has implemented ways to guarantee her safety, since even Enzo has denied her help. She carries on herself a taser and pepper spray, which may seem meager, but are the only options available. She's as powerless as can be in front of her father, but she will not allow the same narrative repeat itself in front of the old, withering men.

The man in front of Rosari now will not stop talking. He hammers on about his title and how important he is to some crime family Rosari cares very little about. He only talks about himself, about things that could put a baby to sleep. Rosari tunes him out completely. She will wait until he is done professing his love for himself.

Enzo walks up to the two with open arms for the victor only. He cuts into the middle of them, his back turned to Rosari and his full attention on the man. The two engage in a full-blown conversation while Rosari just stands there in silence, fists balled by her sides.

"Piece of shit." Says Rosari, more than loud enough for the men to hear. And when they turn to her, she lazily adds, with a frown, "I'm sorry, did I say that out loud?"

The vein on Enzo's forehead begins pulsing, the way it always does when Rosari was within his premises. He gives his colleague an apologetic smile and then a glare to Rosari before pulling her to the side. "Watch your fucking mouth in front of my business partners. I still have your life in the palm of my hands, do not forget that." And for a much harsher sting, he says, "Your mother would have been a much better item to auction."

Rosari watches him leave, unable to contain the scorn that currently plagues her. She forces stability upon herself, however, as there's no use for anger. Anger has gotten her nowhere. But if there's one thing for certain, it's that Rosari Maranzo despises her father.

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