𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝘀 𝗙𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻 𝗔𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹.
BOOK 1 (Mafia Angels Series)
We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by...
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Our pictures are our footprints. It's the best way to tell people we were here. ~Joe McNally _____________
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2016, Murray Hill, New York Age 21
"Essie, why do you like reading Pinocchio so much? Don't you ever get tired of it?" Camren asked as he ripped the book from my hand.
"Cam, don't you think it would be great if people's noses grew when they lied. It would be easy to catch bad guys like bullies. The world would be safer and we wouldn't have to be home-schooled," 7-year-old me replied.
"That's all make-believe, Essie. The world isn't going to be as peaceful as you wish for a long time. It's unfair but it's reality, at least that's what mamma told me," He ruffled my hair with a smile.
"But you too like Pinocchio, Cam, you always read it to me," I pushed his hand away.
"I like it because it taught me that you shouldn't try to become something you're not. We learned two different lessons, Essie," He said.
"I think you can become whatever you want to be if you believe you can," I said, "he became a human even if he was a puppet,"
"I don't agree with you, Essie," Camren whispered.
"But Cam-" I started.
"Esme, Camren, it's lunchtime," our father called. Camren held my hand as we skipped down the hall. The earlier argument was long forgotten as Camren made silly faces and told jokes all the way to the dining room-- he was always the mood maker.
I wonder which one of us had the correct idea-- in a way we both had the right ideologies. The ringing tone ends with an abrupt click, pulling me from reminiscing. I nibble on my bottom lip as I wait for him to speak first, afraid my voice will waver as soon as I open my mouth.
It had been 4 years since I fled Italy, leaving Camren, Mari, and my mother behind. What would be his reaction to my sudden call? Shivers course through my entire body as the sound of shuffling on the other end reminds me that the call is connected.
