Rebecca Downhill (Becca) has known nothing in her life but a strict father who is involved in businesses with the Italian mafia in NY, an absent mother who has taught her to be obedient and fulfill her duties towards the family, and a twelve years o...
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When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Well, lemonade it is!
When your days are all the same, wrapped in darkness and sorrow, that one different day shatters the entire reality you've known. And you don't know what to do with it, so you just sit and wait. And hope if there is any hope left. You hope for the best. Now, who's best? It's simple.
Who do you love the most?
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, sitting on the bed's edge under the morning sun which is tenderly warming up my face. Its rays land right on me, poking through the bedroom's windows slash glass walls slash huge, fancy sliding doors.
This exorbitant, luxurious bedroom used to be our den of thrills and bliss, and we used to fill this house with laughter and joy.
Today, it's just an eccentric, golden birdcage, miserable and asphyxiating.
I never wake up early and I never open the curtains. I love it when I fall asleep, faint with the pills I take, and hate it when I wake up.
I'm usually lazy in bed till almost noon, hoping that if I stay still and stop breathing, my wretched life will finally end or maybe my heart will change into stone, and I'll stop suffering and missing the love I've once had and today is no more and my brain will forget the man I love.
In the past year, his making love to me have a cold, mechanical start, as if he doesn't want to be there and then his touches become something, not from this world.
Every night starts worse than yesterday and less than tomorrow, turning my ordinary life into a plea for being invisible or him not coming home.
I'll never be able to understand how someone can begin the night with such hate just to gracefully transform himself in a matter of seconds into a heavenly lover, caressing my skin with feathery brushes and gifting passionate kisses to my shivering lips, because our everyday life is today nothing but spending a few dry minutes together, which seem hours and distasteful looks that my husband offers, although I know that most of the time he hides his eyes from me.
It's confusing, it's torture to me.
But today is a special morning. It's that moment in a woman's life that for most can be a blessing, but for me, might be the end.
Clenching the plastic tube in my hand, tightly, till my knuckles become paperwhite, I breathe deeply filling my lungs till it fits air no more.
And I squeeze my eyes with the same intensity till thousands of little stars are floating around in the blackness of my vision.
I cannot believe I'm having a new life growing inside of me, not being as careful as I've been. I'm on pills since my father sold me in this cursed marriage, but fate seems to have other arrangements.
