Chapter One

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There was a buzzing, on both my head and in my ears. I broke my eyes open and for a second forgot where I was. And what was that awful sound? Then I remembered it was no longer the weekend and that my alarms had been set to wake me up for my shift at work. With my eyes half open I felt around for the alarm clock on the bedside table and punched it off. I used the same hand to feel around for the phone vibrating under my pillow and brought the screen to my face. I clumsily pressed my thumb over the screen until that alarm eventually stopped and I finally let out a breath of air.

Allowing myself no time to fall back to sleep, I rolled out of bed, stood and stretched my limbs before shuffling to the bathroom for a quick shower. My life in Italy was much different to the one back in England. The days started early. There was no such thing as a lie-in anymore. There were no more morning chats with mum - the two of us laughing about our ridiculous dreams or deciding on whose turn it was to cook breakfast - quite simply because she was in England and I was here in Venice with dad.

I stood under the shower head and turned it on letting the water wash over my still-sleepy limbs. After the shower, I stood back in my bedroom with a towel wrapped around me, water dripping onto the floor from the tips of my hair. I was due downstairs in just over thirty minutes so I found my uniform, and once I was dry enough, quickly pulled everything on, doing up buttons as I wriggled my feet into my shoes. I blasted my hair with the blowdryer, threw it into a brown heap on my head and grabbed my name badge on the way out of the apartment.

Working in a hotel wasn't so bad. I got to meet new people everyday and I'd practically become an expert with the local sights, restaurants and gelatarias. The fast pace of working in hospitality kept me on my feet, leaving no time to wallow in the swarming thoughts that stemmed from my parent's divorce several months earlier. 

The fact that I got to live in an apartment on the top floor of the hotel was possibly the greatest bonus. I had everything there. I was fully catered for, and in between my shifts at the bar, I happily ate each day with a few of my colleagues at a small table in the corner of the hotel restaurant.

I made my way into the lift from the top floor to the ground floor and walked to the restaurant grabbing an apple as I passed the food counter.

 "Buongiorno, Olivia,"

 "Good morning, Marco," the waiter, Marco, smiled at me as I walked past him. I waved and smiled at the guests he was serving.

I glanced at my phone and saw that time was really ticking, so quickly munched away at the rest of the apple, poured myself a glass of orange juice and found a cereal bar to nibble on. Once breakfast was sorted, I skipped to the bar and prepared myself for the working day ahead.

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