** REBEL SIMMONS POV **
POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING BELOW

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"REBEELLL!" My intoxicated father screamed as he stumbled across the dim parking lot.

He was drunk... again. Surprise surprise.

I despised the weekends. Those were the days my mother worked doubles and her restaurant, so I was assigned the horrid task of picking up my belligerent father from bar he frequented. Being 13, I wasn't old enough to get a drivers permit, let alone a license. Luckily I read a handful of books on driving techniques and street regulations, and it was easier than I would have thought.

Driving was something that relaxed me. Being behind the wheel and tuning out the world, if only for a short while. I quickly became fascinated with driving when I was 13, the first time I had to pick up my father.

I unlocked the door as he stumbled into the passenger seat of our beat up 1992 Chevy Silverado, an half full bottle of vodka in his hand.

"Your late you stupid piece of shit." He said as he took another pull from the cheap vodka as he punched my arm roughly. I looked at the cracked clock on the dashboard - 12:01AM. I was a minute late.

"S-sorry Dad." I said as tried to focus on the road instead of the throbbing pain in my arm.

"What did I say about calling me that?!" He screamed as he hit the dashboard.

"S-s-sorry Johnny." I stuttered. I continued driving down the deserted street as my father continued his verbal attack.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

We stopped at a stoplight, without a single car around. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves being in such a close proximity to my father.

As he took another pull of his bottle, a cop slowly rolled up next to our car. His eyes widened as it watched my father drink his vodka. His eyes trailed to me in shock before blue and red lights lit up the barren street.

My future is over. I'm going to juvie. I'm going to be a damn delinquent.

"RUN, BITCH RUN!" My father screamed as he hurled the bottle of vodka out the open window towards the cop car, shattering it and drenching the officers drivers side door with liquor.

I floored it, skidding as I sped through the intersection. The officer quickly following behind me.

Maybe juvie isn't such a bad idea. I'd get three meals a day, an actual bed, unlimited time to read my books... what the hell am I thinking? It'll ruin my future, it'll ruin my life. My mom would be left alone.

The officer was gaining on us. I sped up, pushing the old Silverado past its limits. I weaved thought the few cars on the road attempting to lose the cop, but it was no use.

"PULL OVER NOW." The Officer yelled through his speakers.

"Fuck you!" My father said sticking out of the window and flipping him off.

I was so distracted looking at the glaring lights in my rear view mirror, that I didn't notice a sharp turn I was rapidly approaching.

I quickly looked at my speedometer, the angle of the upcoming turn, and calculated the torque and weight of our truck. I held my breath and hoped my hasty calculations were correct.

I pulled up on the emergency brake as I stepped on the gas, effectively drifting the right corner. The cop, who was going into the turn to fast, flipped his car over and rolled slamming into a light pole.

Adrenaline coursed through my veils as well as emotions ranging from completely horrified to extremely excited. I know what just happened was terrible, the officer was just doing his job and could have gotten hurt.

But for some reason... I felt so... raw... so exuberant. I felt no remorse, only pure, electrifying, excitement.

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"There's not a fucking chance in hell that she's working for me." Dante exclaimed as he slammed his hand onto the coffee table, effectively pulling me out of my own thoughts.

After an hour of tuning out Giana and Dante argue over me being an asset more so than a liability, he finally gave up and stormed out of the room. I couldn't help but notice that the rooms aura lightened up immediately after that unpleasant barbarian left.

Joining the Mafia was an easy decision to make. I figured it was either that, or be shot between the eyes. Yet again, a simple decision. Plus after a year I can go about my life.

"That boy, stubborn as always. Don't mind him. He'll come around eventually." Giana said as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

"On the contrary, I was actually hoping he'd never come around." I laughed as Giana bit back a smile.

"You said you changed your identity, so what's your real name?" I curiously asked.

"It's Gianvita. So you can call me Giana or Gigi, either one works." She said as she walked towards the counter where her iPhone was laying on the counter.

"Your mother has been calling, she's been worried sick." She said picking up her pristine iPhone and handing it to me.

St. Anderson Hospital - 12 missed calls, 5 voicemails

"Thanks." I said to Giana as I dialed my mothers number. She answered after the first ring.

"Have you heard from her? Was she with you? Oh my goodness Giana I-" My mother practically screamed through the phone. I cringed as I lifted it away from my ear in order to prevent any hearing damage. Giana was giving me a curious look, as if wondering if I'd disclose the events of the last 8 hours to my mother.

"Mom, it's me. I'm fine. I just fell asleep reading some of their new books." I calmly explained looking at Giana. Her expression softened in what appeared to be relief.

Growing up, I learned to be a magnificent liar. Whenever teachers or other student would ask why I was always bruised up or never had a lunch with me, I'd always feed them the most ludacris stories. I was so persuasive that they'd always believe every word. I found it quite amusing, how you can understand another beings thought process and manipulate it to believe anything. I never felt guilty being dishonest, except when it comes to my mother.

"Jesus honey I was so worried something happened to you! I kept calling your phone but it was disconnected! She said. Knowing my highly emotional mother, she probably had tears in her eyes.

Oh, you know, I just got kidnapped and drugged by the Italian Mafia, had a gun to my face, practically begged for them to kill me, and now I'll be working for them for a year in Italy. Nothing to worry about at all.

"I'm fine mom, I'm so sorry. My phone broke when I was at Stanford. I'll get a new phone today, so you won't have to worry." I said in an attempt to calm her down.

"I'm just so glad you're okay. I don't know what I would do if I lost you. I love you so much Rebel." My mother said sighing.

"I love you too mom. But I have some good news, my job just assigned me to a massive contract. I'm going to be creating a cyber security system for a start up company. It's a huge opportunity for me." I lied smoothly. My mother has always been the "good news before the bad news" type of woman. Hopefully her hearing of my success will soften the disappointment of me leaving.

"That's amazing honey! I'm so proud of you! When do you start?" She asked enthusiastically.

"They want me to start today. But the bad news is that it's in Italy." I said, faking a somber tone. "But I've been thinking, I don't want to be so far from you especially when you're going through so much. I'm not sure if I'm going to accept their offer."

"Rebel Irina Simmons, you listen here young lady. You will take that offer, no matter what! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you, and I forbid you to pass this up because of my condition!" She said sternly.

"But mom, are you sure? I can easily decli-" I continued to lie, making sure I added some worry into my tone. I leaned up against the counter and looked at a very amused Giana.

"You will do no such thing! I'll be fine. Apparently I've been accepted into a program for better treatments, so I'll be out of here in no time!" My mother said cheerfully. After a short conversation, I promised to visit in two weeks after her surgery as well as bring her some gifts from Italy.

I know I should feel like an absolute shit human being for lying to my mother. But looking at it objectively, everything I was doing is for her. She's the only family I have that loves me unconditionally.

I'd walk through hell and back to make sure she's happy, to make sure she's taken care of. Even if that means lying to her so she can sleep peacefully at night without the burden of worrying about my wellbeing. At least, that's what I tried to convince myself as I felt a pang of guilt hit my conscious.