Everyone having sex is at least 18. This is a work of fiction. I made this all up, you can check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is, a story. The TV talent contest is fictional, although it's modeled after one of the real shows. Special thanks to goducks111 for his help.

Warning: This story builds slower than most of my stories. Many of my main characters are strong willed and born leaders whereas this one isn't. Initially, he's harder to like, but he grows on you. By the end (four parts), I hope most of you will like him and the story.

Chapter 1 - I hate my Life

My alarm goes off. It's 5:30 AM. Yikes. I need to get in the shower. I hate my life. We are an old Italian mob family. Yep, straight out of the movies. I have four sisters that hate me. They seem to think I will be like my brothers, abusive, stupid, and get myself killed. I'm nothing like my brothers, I hate them. Ok, I hate my sisters too if you ask. The women run the family. Grandma rules the lot of us while mom controls our house. My eldest sister Rosemary, we call her Rose, is first in line to take over after mom.

Dad, a younger brother, and my two eldest brothers have already been killed over the years. I have one older brother left, and he has had three near misses. Why would I want in on the family business? I don't. No way, I can do better than that. Sure, they have strip clubs and hookers. I can get an endless supply of drugs to make me high, run faster, date rape pills, or make me a God in bed. Yeah, my family has all the sleazy businesses you need going. I have numerous uncles in jail. That shows how great it is. Yeah, right.

The family is short on employees; therefore, I'm expected to join up and help. I'm not wild for this way of life. I want to be an actor or a singer. I can do both. I'm so numb to my life that I'm recounting my life under a hot shower. I don't even remember coming in here. I have taken too long, and now Anna is banging on the bathroom door. Arrrg. I get out and dry off. I place a towel around me and open the door.

Within a few milliseconds, the door is pushed open, knocking me back and stunning me. Anna takes my towel and throws it down on the floor and uses it as a rug.

She then looks at me, covers her mouth like she is laughing, then says, "My, my, you are my little brother."

I run to my room, embarrassed. That is the type of shit I put up with. My brother tries to toughen me up, then my sisters belittle me, mom is always ordering me to do something, and grandma is a mean one. She is a genuinely nasty person, unlike everyone else's grandma.

I turned eighteen a few days ago, and tomorrow I graduate high school. I plan to attend a small college out in California. I have lots of money saved up. Over the years, the family has given me money for college. It's crazy the way the family throws around cash. Uncles were throwing $10,000 boxes of cash at me. Yeah, my family doesn't believe in checks.

My plan is simple, hang out with my friend Aaron for two days. I have a ticket to Los Angeles. I will take a shuttle ride out to the tiny town where my college is, rent an apartment close to campus, and in two months start classes. I'll be far enough from the family that they won't be able to find me nor touch me. I will be free of them forever. Or so I thought.

After graduation, I told my mom I was going to a friend's party. There is no way they would bother throwing one for me. They could care less about me. For my sisters, they would have rented Disneyland. There was a real party, but I'm at Aaron's house. Great simple plan, yet that turned out poorly.

I'm up in Aaron's room; we are playing a video game. I hear a huge crash downstairs, screaming, and then two gunshots. Oh shit, a rival gang is here to take me out. I grab Aaron's hand and pull him to the window. We are on the second floor, and there is a tree we've climbed down before. However, this time three burly fat men are waiting for us. I'm thrown over a shoulder, and I see Aaron get gutted with a knife. His white shirt is quickly filling with blood.

I cry the entire way to Grandma's house. The men don't say a word to me. Once inside, Grandma is behind a big worn leather chair in an office that is surprisingly devoid of furniture. Just a computer and some ledgers with three pens. The desk and the chair look much older than even Grandma.

She looks at me and was going to ask a question, then decided to just tell the men, "Rough him up a bit. Make him know you don't run from family. Not this family."

They start to drag me out when Grandma says with an icy voice, "NO! Here. I want to watch."

I'm a big guy, heavy bone structure, and a fair amount of muscle, but nothing prepared me for those brutes. A quick shot to my stomach knocks the wind out of me, a blow to my face breaks my nose, then two more shots, and I blackout.


I wake up to screams. Oh fuck, no alarm clock. Holy shit, every part of my body hurts. I can taste blood in my mouth, and I can't open my eyes. I can't move. Now there is a second scream, quickly followed by a third. Then I hear steps running down the stairs. The hands turn my head, and then I hear a phone calling someone.

Jason, our butler says to the phone, I need you at (our address) I have a severely beaten eighteen-year-old male in the front doorway of the house. He's a mess; he needs help quick.

I pass out again.


I wake up in a hospital room, alone. Wow, nobody cares about me. Not even a bodyguard, I mean that little to them. I have a tear running down my cheek. It looks like morning; the sun has just come up out of the East. It seems like I'm in a shared room, my roommate is talking in Spanish, his family is here.

Hmmm, with nobody around, I can leave. No, I can't, I don't have my wallet. I push the red button; I need a pain killer. I nice looking nurse comes in. She is older, yet she has a nice smile. Something I have not seen in a long time. Her badge says Samantha (Sam).

I try to talk, but it hurts to move my jaw. That's when I lost it and start to cry. This seems like such a helpless situation, and every part of my body hurts. Sam looks at me with real compassion, it surprised me, I had never seen that before.

She holds my hand and is soft when she said, "It's ok baby, I'll give you some pain pills. You were dropped off here. They took off. You're listed as John Doe. I don't know who did this to you, but we aren't about to ask you for your name. Some guys were here. They took your clothes, wallet, and cell phone.

"We called security, but they ran off. We moved you to a different wing, and security is on the lookout for any Italian thugs. Do you want us to contact someone?"

I shake my head gingerly, no. I could not convey, no fucking way do I ever want anything to do with my fucking family for as long as I live. However, I think she understood.


I woke up crying from pain again. When I tried to reach for the red button, I couldn't, mom had my hand. OH, FUCK NO! Immediately I'm scared, I'm breathing hard, my heartbeat is soaring, I'm freaking out. How did she find me? Why is she here?

Four nurses and security come running into my room. They thought I was dying from their monitoring station. I'm positive I have a scared look on my face. I'm pushing her away, trying to look elsewhere. Security quickly restrains her.

Mom is pissed, "Unhand me! This is my son! What happened?"

Sam is more aggressive than mom, "Oh, I think you know exactly what happened. That boy has been crying for the last several days. You show up, and he wants to jump out the window. Start talking now or ... never mind. Security: check her out and see if she is responsible for his condition. Get the police and the DA involved. I know who she is."

Mom is pissed, "You're messing with the wrong mother. You have no idea who I am and what I can do."

Sam gets in mother's face and uses a finger to point at her, withing inches of her cheek, "I know exactly who you are. I have wrapped up the pieces to five of your family members. One word from any of us to the wrong people and the pieces of this boy will be too small to count. Now leave my patient alone."

They take mom out, yelling and screaming.

Sam smiles at me, "You're ok in my book. Get some rest, sweetie."


I wake up hungry. I see the sun has almost set. Looking at me from the windows is Maria.

On me seeing Maria, she gets defensive, "No, no, it's ok. I'm not here to get you mad or harm you. I was told to look out for you and make sure they're helping you. Nothing more." She shows me her palms to prove she is innocent, I guess. "Grandma was pissed that they beat you so bad. She was mad because you tried to leave without her blessing, she had to show her control, or she loses everything. All that money you had saved up, they took it.

"I don't understand why you ran away. We have it good here. Sure, nothing is perfect, shit runs downhill. It's why I'm here and not Rose. She was too important to be bothered with you. Mom is in trouble for coming down here as well. They restrained her because they think she did this to you. She would never hurt her baby."

I made a noise, "Humpf."

I can almost laugh. Mom would be one of the first to hurt me, right behind Grandma. Oh, how little poor Maria knows.

Sam asks Maria, "Are you here for the training?"

Maria is confused, "Training? What training? I'm just here to watch the little shit."

Sam snickers, "Well, they beat him so bad, his hands will be useless for a few weeks. In the meantime, he needs help eating, showering, using the toilet. Otherwise, he turns very smelly quickly. You might just as well put a bullet between his eyes."

Maria laughs, "Oh no, not Marco. Not baby Marco. He can sing the songs Grandma likes."

Sam smiles, "Well, in case you didn't notice it, your baby brother isn't talking. His vocal cords were damaged. He may never talk again, let alone sing. She fucked up this time."

Maria is now nervous, "Oh shit, oh shit, what do I do? Do I call her or not? She doesn't like bad news. If she finds out I knew ... ugggg."

I see her dial her phone.

I hear Maria say, "Hi Grandma, ...thank you... and it's great to hear from you as well. ... That's exactly why I'm calling. They need to train someone to care for him. ...Ok. Ok. I guess so. Yes, I have more news. I'm sorry, I'm calling you as soon as I found out. Don't blame me. This is all your goons ... Ok, sorry Grandma." She takes a big, deep breath. "Marco isn't talking. (Pause.) He can't. His vocal cords were damaged. ...OK. Ok. He may never speak again, let alone sing."

Damn, I could hear the scream, or was it a wail from my bed. The line goes dead, Maria shuts her phone off.

Maria says to Sam, "What do I need to learn?"

Sam says to me, "I might like this Grandma."

Maria says in a somber tone, "No. No, you wouldn't."

Sam's smile is now gone as she points to me and asks, "Grandma?"

I nod my head slightly.

Sam says, "She can rot in hell then."

Maria gives a slight smile, "She runs that place as well."

For two hours, Maria learns how to be a nurse. Soon she can change wound pads, bandages, bathe me in a shower and in a bed, help me use a urinal and the toilet, and lastly, how to clean poop. She was a good student. I'm going home with limited pain pills. Sam understood how my family can get anything, we both got the warning about addictions and how she would skin us both alive if she found out I got hooked.

She doesn't understand that I'm not worth giving the pills to when they can be sold.


I wake up expecting to be going home today. Instead, I find out I'm having my vocal cords operated on. It seems mom got some expert involved, they flew out last night, and I'm first in line today. This is a colossal suck-up to Grandma ... if it works. They are confident that it will, but there is always a chance.

It's funny, I'm near death, nobody shows up. They want to fix my voice; the entire family shows up. There had to be close to twenty family members in one place, and it wasn't a funeral or a wedding. I am released a few hours after surgery. Everyone came to our house, and they had a good time. I'm grounded in my room for the summer. I have no wallet, no cell phone, and no tablet. I have a computer with enough safety features that a small child can surf safely.

I wanted to take off my clothes but can't. No hands, so I get in bed. Because of the party, Maria forgot about me. I had to pee. I need to pee bad. Help me! Ok, the need to pee no longer exists. Now I need my sheets and bedspread changed. Shit, my mattress as well.

Sure enough, a cousin came upstairs to use the washroom, smelled my problem, and then called everyone up to laugh at me. I wanted to die at that moment.

One of the moms ask, "Why didn't you just go?"

I can't answer. I bow my head, so I don't have to look at them. I cry again. Hey, it's not like they are going to think less of me.

Aunt Meg pushes past everyone and helps me up. I flinch and go into a defensive position in the corner with my hands covering my head.

She turns mad very quickly, "What the hell is going on here? Your son is in his room while a party for his return from the hospital is going on. You leave him up here? He wets the bed and is deathly afraid I'll hit him? This isn't fucking normal! What, do you treat him like a pet?"

That did it for mom, she blew up, "Well, I tell you what, bitch. Why don't you take your ass over to see mom (my grandma) and tell her what you think? She's the one that did this to him. So, before you start blaming people and calling them out, you better know who you're talking about. I'll be glad to tell mommy what you said about her handy work."

Aunt Meg wasn't the slightest concerned; she gently helps me up and pulls me to the shower. I had kept my hands up in bed; I knew they were supposed to stay dry. Meg parades me into the washroom, and that is when Maria shows up. She has tears in her eyes. She screwed up good. Mom is going to whip her for this for sure. She made mom look bad in front of the family.

Maria takes over for Meg, "I got this. Some of these come off, some stay, and some must stay dry. Before I leave you alone, do you need to use the toilet?"

I sure as hell do! I stand in front, and Maria aims for me.

Maria giggles, "Hey, this is kind of fun. It's so warm."

Meg ruins the fun for her, "Um yeah, it has warm urine on it. Haven't you seen your brother before? With so many of you sharing one washroom, you had to see."

Maria is bored, "Look at him, it's why we call him 'little brother'."

Meg looks astonished, "Just because he doesn't find you attractive doesn't mean he's little."

I finish, and Maria flushes. She pushes me into a warm shower.

Maria is mad, "What do you mean by that? That he doesn't find me attractive."

I can hear Meg say, "Dear, that cock is flaccid. When he's sexually excited, I bet you he gets much larger. His dad did, and there is nothing more I'll say about that."

Maria argues, "I'm cute."

Meg counters, "Maria, you and your sisters are stuck up bitches, just like your mother. Why do you think your grandmother's never stepped down? You and your sisters are so mean to your bother; it doesn't matter how cute you may think you are. He hates all women now. You have ensured he'll never know love. That's pathetic."

She ran out of the washroom, crying. When I finish my shower, I get out. Maria takes her time drying me off. She stroked my cock a few times and got nothing, that made her sad and a little angry. She was much rougher putting on the bandages and PJ's. I have no mattress, so I sit in the corner of my room, trying to blend into the walls.

Everyone goes downstairs while I sit in my corner. I'm starting to get an idea of how horrible my life is. I wonder if I was better off before, blissfully unaware.


I spend the night in the corner of my room. Nobody bothered to feed me yesterday at all. At least with not drinking, I don't have to pee. My stomach is grumbling, I go back to sleep with tears in my eyes again.


It's not until day three that I'm summoned downstairs. I can't get up. I'm too weak. Why would they care now? Why? Grandma is here. She must be here to finish the job. I start trembling as I hear the old bat slowly coming up the stairs. It took her forever, even with mom helping her. One look at me, and she is mad. She makes a quick call. All I hear is "NOW!"

Grandma is furious, "No mattress? When did he eat last?"

Mom's voice is soft, "He wet his bed, they took it outside to hose it down, and it's still drying. I don't know when he last ate. Maria, when did you last feed him? Hell, when did you last do anything for him?"

Maria is crying and having a hard time talking, "I never fed him, you didn't tell me too. I got him showered and back in PJ's two days ago."

Grandma is bristling with anger, "So you knew he wasn't eating or being cared for, and you did nothing?"

Maria bursts out in full tears, "You're the one that tried to kill him. Damn right, I'm NOT crossing you and doing anything for him unless I'm told. I like my head without a bullet hole."

Grandma asks mom, "What's your excuse? As his mother, how do you let this happen?"

Mom is vicious, "Since you almost killed him, my instincts would have been to kill you so I could care for him. Is that what you want?"

Grandma is having none of that, "Fuck you! Don't put this on me. You allowed the little shit to almost escape us. You forced my hand, or I look weak. I gave him back to you, and your response is to drop him off at the hospital, like some garbage! That's your son. Do you hate him that much?"

Very uncharacteristically, mom says, "No. I hate you that much for what you did to my son. I've lost my husband and three sons because of you. Then you almost kill a fourth yourself."

Mom fell to the floor, crying loudly.

Grandma, in a reserved voice, asks, "Who's bedroom is closest?" Ann raised her hand; it's trembling. "Put two more sets of sheets on the bed, take off the blanket. You're sleeping with Maria until I leave. I'm taking your mother's room, and your mother is taking Marco's room. Maria, go get the door and bring the man up here when he arrives. I want chairs for all of us and the doctor in Ann's room now. Go."

Everyone ran for chairs.

Grandma sat on the chair in my room. She looked very sad and seems to have aged a lot since I last saw her. I hear the doorbell ring and then two sets of steps quickly coming up the stairs. On seeing me, he has tears in his eyes. He asks me to stand up, I try and can't. He picks me up under my armpits. He notices no mattress; Grandma leads him to Anna's room as several chairs show up. They go and get more.

The doctor removes all my bandages and wound pads. Most have some infection going from not being changed. I can tell he is disgusted with my care. However, he knows who Grandma is and doesn't dare say half of what he wants to.

He cleans me up, writes three prescriptions, then shows everyone how to tend to my needs. He stays long enough to see me fed some chicken soup. He gave me a single pain killer so I could sleep. Sleep came easy. I was woken up for each meal, and they all enjoyed helping me pee. It was just a few days before I could walk again.

Grandma stopped by and took me to the voice doctor. The surgeon did excellent work, and I was given homework. I need to say certain sounds, mostly letters. Not all of them, just a few. They were very strict with me not to push it. Depending on the results, they would speed up or slow down my appointments. As it turns out, they sped it up to almost every other day until I was talking.

However, just because I could, didn't mean I wanted to. A silent boy is abused less and pretty much ignored. I was enjoying being ignored.