Young Writers Society

Maria could scarcely make out his face through the dim light and cigar smoke.

Nevertheless, she knew he wasn’t smiling...

Maria Astardzhevia was 12-year-old Bulgarian girl when her hands became dirty; she would do anything to protect the person she loved most, and that was her brother.

She was sitting with her younger brother on an old carpet stained with many discoloured blemishes, they were waiting for their father to return home after a business meeting when the door was abruptly opened.

"What are yoouuu doing? Youuuu both should be ssssss...." Stuttered Maria's Father falling onto the sofa.

Quietly Maria spoke "Father he is watching, you should go to bed and you will feel better in the morning."

Maria's father instantaneously staggered over to where they sat and took a fierce grip of her younger brother's arm.

"Youuu are alwaysss stopping me from having funnn." With one rapid burst of anger he struck him across the face sending him half way across the room, Maria frantically rushed to him as tears rolled down both of their faces their father retreated to the bedroom with a liquor bottle in his hands.

"It hurts" cried her brother.

"Don’t worry you will never hurt again. He will be the last one to hurt," explained Maria.

Later that night, after her father was passed out and brother cried himself to sleep Maria crept into the grubby, unkept kitchen. On the side there was a bottle of pills her father takes when he wants to sleep. There was a liquor bottle three quarters empty on the top shelf. She dragged a chair from the kitchen being cautious not to make a racket and climbed on it pulling herself up onto the side covered in unwashed dishes, grasping the bottle in her had she climbed back down and poured all the pills into the liquor she waited for them to dissolve and then climbed back up and put the bottle back where she got it from then pushed the chair back as if she was never there.

The next evening when her father returned home she told her brother to go to their room while she poured a drink for her dad, she sat on the carpet in the process of her father drinking.

"What have you done to me?" slathered her dad as he fell to the ground becoming unconscious.

"I just stopped the hurt and pain... Goodbye father."

It was a struggle over the next several years. Once a young gullible 12-year-old Maria abused by her father was now a 16-year-old Bulgarian immigrant squatting in Chicago making money by being an escort for the excessively well-off men to make sure her and her brother stayed safe.

The Green Hour Tavern the most infamous speakeasy known for their top brands of alcohol; Maria's main place of work. Settled down at her table- the same table she sits at every night-she watched the jazz band play and the flappers dance around craving for attention from anyone willing to give it to them. Abruptly a group of uniformly men walked into the bar Maria had seen them before however they came from the back entrance most nights. Yet there was a face she had never seen before a tall outstandingly handsome robust young man dressed in a black three-piece suit, lengthy chestnut hair tamed to look effortless. Even from across the room you could see his eyes where the deepest color of azure blue.

Maria knew it was getting late and she should go back to her brother, but she had to know him. She proceeded across the room past many tables of young people drinking away their problems and having a good time. The men were in the very end booth far away from the dancing and the music, when she got to their table Maria had a sudden change of mind.

"what am I doing" she thought to herself.

As she was turning around one of the men which seemed to be the one in charge due to him ordering the others to go to the bar for him stood up pushing off the flapper that was sat on his lap pouring him a drink, she fell on the ground dropping the bottle of alcohol on the floor, he gave her an intense glare and she scuttled away out of the bar.

"Well well well. What do we have here young fresh meat?" he spat out, glaring at Maria.

"I am just on my way out, good evening gentlemen," Maria spoke confidently however you could see she was nervous.

Heading back to her table she could hear the men ordering another drink she glanced around once more, and she saw something she wasn’t expecting the man she went there to speak to staring at her when she looked at him he smiled then she fled out the door.

Over the next several weeks she went to The Green Hour Tavern sat at the same table and waited for him, but he never showed up. In the end she gave up. One night she was just about to leave the bar when he walked in alone, but he wasn’t smiling he walked over to the bar grabbed the bartender by the neck and dragged him out into the back streets. Maria decided to shadow him. Maria kept hidden behind the bars trash cans, but she heard everything.

"Charles 'am sorry okay. It was just the alcohol was cheaper and there was a lot more of it "muttered the bartender trying not to draw attention.

"I understand however Mr. Capone doesn’t, "with this Charles reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a 38-caliber revolver and shot him in the head with one single blast not even a flinch came from him.

Maria let out a piercing screech as the slaughtered bartender fell to the ground. Charles turned around to meet Maria's eyes he was scared she could see in his eyes. He took a step toward to her, Maria tried to run but she couldn't it was like her feet where glued to the ground she was screaming inside but not a note passed her lips. She couldn't help it; tears streamed down her face uncontrollably ruining her once perfect makeup. He got closer, close enough to wipe the tears from her face.

"I didn’t want to do it. I had to." He whispered wearily unsure what her response would be.

Moments of silence passed...

"I...I...I.." breathed Maria.

"He betrayed my boss, I was ordered to do it am sor..."

"Understand. I understand." Maria interrupted.

He looked at her in surprise and disbelief. Maria was shocked of what just taken place, but she acknowledged how it was to take someone's life and the immense remorse you feel. It took a while to recollect herself. Charles looked back, once, at the lifeless body before heading back inside. He grabbed the receiver and spoke to the operator. Maria caught flashes of the sight as the doors swung back anf forth.

"It's done, he just needs tidying up, he is round the back of the tavern." Hinted Charles to the person on the phone.

Charles convinced Maria to come with him before the men came to get the lifeless body of the bartender. Walking down the street was cold as Maria had left her coat in the bar however it kept her thoughts from wondering. As they drew closer to where Maria and her brother were staying she turned around to Charles he looked worried still but calmer than he did earlier.

"What do you do for work?" Asked Maria suddenly breaking the silence.

"I'm not allowed to tell you." refused Charles.

"I saw you kill a man. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation!" Maria demanded.

He stepped back in surprise from the sudden outburst, but he knew he had to tell her.

"Capone... Al Capone I work for him, but you can't tell anyone otherwise he will have their head and mine and yours." Begged Charles.

"Scarface. You work for Scarface? How on earth did you get into that? No, you know what you have dragged me into this, so you can get me out of this don’t you EVER come near me or my apartment again, I will keep you secret if you stay AWAY!" Maria now screaming at the top of her lungs.

Even before he could say anything she stormed off into the night.

The sound of the gun shot rung in her ears for days even her brother noticed there was something on her mind.

"You have got that look," announced her brother while they were eating dinner.

"What look?" Asked Maria curiously.

"The look you had after you killed father and came running to get me," explained her brother.

"I'm fine. I just haven't been working for a while and I am getting worried if we will have enough money to pay rent at the end of the week," rambled Maria.

"Then what's stopping you go to the tavern tonight," said her brother trying to solve the problem; unaware of what went on.

Maria knew there was a chance of bumping into him, but she needed the money she needed to protect the person she loved the most, but the thing is she didn’t know she wouldn't be protecting him for long...

Later that night Maria got ready to go The Tavern, a short black dress clung to her skin while her natural charcoal curly hair just brushed her shoulders, her eyes filled with all the shades of dark toned eyeshadows and her lips painted in the darkest rouge she owned.

After a long night of listening to troubled married men grumble and moan about their wives setting fires to letter boxes and getting arrested and joining all the suffragists groups, Maria sat down at her table again after ordering a whiskey when he walked in. It wasn’t Charles. It was the person who ordered the men around that night he looked far from happy, he stormed to her table.

"You're Maria right?" he questioned.

"Yes, is everything okay? You know Charles, right?" She asked this very carefully not knowing if he would snap.

"Yes, I knew that bastard." He hissed violently.

"Knew... may I ask what you mean knew?" She was still cautious, but this time panic flooded over her body though she remained sitting down.

"He didn’t kill a witness. He didn’t kill you... Sooo we killed him... And now I'm here to kill you."

An alarm of fear rushed over her as she rose from her seat almost knocking of the rest of the whisky onto the floor.

"Don’t bother there is nothing to fight for..." He growled.

"What do you mean?" Maria asked, unsure if she wanted an answer.

"Don’t worry he didn’t feel the pain. Well, maybe just for a minute." Smirking he pulled out a toy car from his pocket, the toy car Maria got her brother on his 10th birthday a couple of months ago.

"He...he... can't..."Maria fell to the ground she felt numb. Nothingness. Everything when blank. No tears in her eyes. No emotions on her face.

"I've changed my mind. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to let you live with the pain I feel. That is a better punishment. If you ever come back to this bar again I will kill everyone in it and make you watch, then I'll kill you." He then disappeared through the back doors.

She knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t stop.Her feet began to move towards the back door he just left through. Memories of the bartenders' body on the floor came into her mind. The man was getting into a polished black limo parked up behind the bar. She was still walking; why?'Stop walking' she told herself; but she didn’t.

The limo stopped outside the Lexington Hotel the stomping ground for Al Capone. The man climbed out the car and gave a slight nod to the door man and proceeded into the building, again Maria followed him. The lobby was exquisite the grand chandeliers hung from the tall enchanted ceilings. Wealthy people strut around discussing what they are going to spend their money on. He was headed to the pent house top floor, she waited until the elevator descended back down to the ground floor then stepped inside. Was that the last time she would have seen people...freedom...life?

There he was as soon as the doors opened standing there smirking again.

"Look at you Maria being strong, what are you doing here?" he spoke in a patronizing tone.

"I am here to kill you..." She whispered.

Before she could do anything, he grabbed her by the arm and struck her across the face just as her father struck her brother that night.

"I think you need to meet the boss" he said while pulling her to two large wooden doors. He knocked on the door even he began to tense up.

The doors opened, and he dragged her Inside, there was a man sitting at a desk, however, Maria could scarcely make out his face through the dim light and cigar smoke.

Nevertheless, she knew he wasn’t smiling...

He never said a word. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a 38-caliber revolver like the one Charles used to kill the bartender.

One tear.

One tear rolled down her cheek before she was shot. It wasn’t because she feared death it was because she wanted to die; and that scared her.