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𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚠𝚘 ─ 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝
I had lost so many people in my life. Important people. People that could've shaped me or helped me become who I am. I was a daughter with no parents. A child with no family. It killed me to wonder what I would've done if anyone had gotten hurt last night.
I spent the whole day asleep and Christian kindly let me. He sat in the other room, typing away on his computer. Half of the afternoon I spent awake, thinking about my life if my parents had never died.
I didn't remember much of my childhood, but from what I could tell I was a happy girl. At least when my mother was around, and when I wasn't spending my days drowning in mountains of schoolwork.
My dad wasn't around much. It wasn't that he wasn't a caring father he just had a lot of work. All the time. When he came home we would bring me a gift and we would all go out to do something together, like go to a movie, and he'd even go to my dance recitals. I look back on times like that and wonder when it all went wrong. I wonder if those times were a lie, a show put up to make me believe false information about their happy marriage.
"Maria." I look up and Christian sets a plate down on the bedside table. I look over to see french toast with powered sugar and syrup drizzled over the top sitting there. A mug of what I assume as either coffee or tea was beside it. I really hope it was the latter because I really need something to calm me down.
The french toast though looked absolutely delicious.
I sit up from the bed and run a tired hand through my tangled hair. I can't bring myself to say anything as I pull the plate onto my lap, and take a quiet bite. I watch him as he looks uneasy, probably deciding if he should sit down or not to talk.
"You can sit, Christian." I say once I swallow, and he finally takes a seat in front of me. I know he's not the type to share feelings. I don't know if I should bring up the kiss or not.
"Are-" I stop for a second, "Are we going to talk about this?" I hear the crack in my voice and watch as he turns away from me. I want to know what's going on in his head. I need to know everything.
"I killed two people today." I whisper mostly to myself, reality settling in. I was afraid. Who was I? A killer? Two lives were gone. Their blood on my hands. I was just as bad as him. The man who killed my own mother. And Christian? He wasn't any better than I was.
My fork clatters against the plate as it falls from my grip.
"A-And, you're in the Italian Mafia..." My throat starts to close up, "I don't even know how many people you've killed." My hands lace through my hair, and I feel them start to tug. Christian turns back toward me and pulls my hands free.
