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Monday • January 2, 2023Location • Barcelona, Spain

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Monday • January 2, 2023
Location • Barcelona, Spain

•••

Ever since I was little I had always asked myself the same questions. Why did you trust her? Why did you trust your mother enough to leave the only place you could call home?

To live with a total stranger that claimed to be in love with my mother?

Even I don't have the answers, but they are always in the back of my mind, just waiting to be answered. Though I don't think it'll happen anytime soon.

I still remember - them, my family. But am I sure, absolutely positive, that they remember me? No, one-hundred-percent no. Yes, maybe here and there they remember me for who I was, their little girl, their naïve little Angel.

But then they'd forget, right? They'd forget because they haven't gotten answers in fifteen years. Who would have the hope anymore?

I'm dead to them, I guess. No, not literally, but the hope of me ever being found is zero, nada.

My thoughts got interrupted when my alarm rung, which made my head throb. I turned the alarm off, silently wishing I had another couple minutes to stall and think, but I had things to do.

I sighed as I shut my eyes, trying to sooth the sting of not sleeping. Sleepless nights weren't uncommon for me, but being awake for at least one-hundred-twenty hours with little naps here and there, was. I couldn't tell you what was keeping me up, whether it be handling two businesses, or reminiscing on my past like I do every year.

I sighed and stood up, stretching my aching and sore muscles. Yesterday, I had a challenging mission to go on, but I eventually killed the man after almost an hour of chasing him around Spain. Man fucking ran and laughed as I chased him.

He wasn't laughing as I shoved his castrated dick down his throat.

As I walked to my en-suite, my mind wandered to my mother. I still loved her, as much as I could, but I didn't love her. I loved the image of her I put into my head. The caring, loving, and trusting mother everyone wants.

In fact, I hate Aria, the woman I used to call my mother. I hate her with a murderous fucking passion, but I can't do anything about that now since they're already dead.

I entered the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower. As I waited for it to warm up, which is essentially the heat of an oven, I undressed from my pajamas. Just a pair of silk shorts and a thin shirt, but that was enough to keep me comfortable.

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