life. The day that began with sunshine and ended with dark clouds and pouring rain. When Alessandro Damiani set his eyes on me for the first time ever.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Past (5 years prior)
Thumping and shouting infiltrated my ears and woke me from an already light sleep. They were at each other's throats again because there was never any money. My stepmother screamed at my father that he was a selfish asshole, and he retorted he should have never married a bitch like her. These excessive fights became a part of our everyday lives, and I had learned to accept they would never come to an end.
The door to my room swung open, and my little sister May lingered in the doorway in her pink pajamas, hugging a teddy bear. Curls of golden hair were glued to her face, and I could tell she had been crying.
“Olivia, I'm scared. Mommy and Daddy are mad at each other again,” she said in a small, sad voice that broke my heart. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I smiled and pulled the covers on my bed. “Of course, sweetheart. Come.”
May ran toward me and threw herself on the mattress. I hugged her to myself and covered us with a warm blanket. Then, we lay in silence as the commotion downstairs continued for hours on end.
“Why are Mommy and Daddy always so angry?” May asked quietly. “Don't they love each other?”
A painful lump constricted my throat, and I didn't know what to say. I pulled her tiny body even tighter against myself and tried not to think about the fact no child should ever have to live with such uncertainty and lack of affection.
“They do love each other, May,” I whispered. “It's just, sometimes grownups act in a way children can't understand. Don't worry about it, sweetie. Everything will be okay.”
“Fuck you, Trisha. You don't know shit,” my father screamed in the kitchen. “You want money? Go get a fucking job!”
“Why the hell should I? So you could gamble that away as well?! I swear to God, Bill,” she yelled. “You're such a fucking loser.”
“Olivia...”
“Hmm...”
“I'm really sad,” May's soft, little voice broke, and she burst into tears.
“Shh.” I rocked her in my arms. “Don't cry, May. Look, I have something that will make us feel better.”
I turned on the lamp on the nightstand and opened the drawer, reaching for a small music box that I listened to whenever I needed comfort. May gasped in wonder, and her eyes widened in child's curiosity. We had already done this so many times together and I was relieved the little red box still did the trick of distracting May from her tears and our parent's fighting.
“Can I open it?” Arms outstretched, she bounced where she sat, and smiled for the first time since entering the room.
“Sure, sweetie.”
May lifted the lid and the dancing ballerina sprang out, spinning to the sound of the music.
“It's so pretty.” May didn't even blink as she stared at it. “Last time, you said it was a present from your Mommy.”
“Yes, May,” I said quietly.
“Where is she now?” May asked in confusion.
I smiled sadly. “She’s in heaven, sweetie.”
“Is she coming back?”
I choked back the tears. “No, May. She's not.”
My little sister remained silent and lost in thought as though her little mind couldn’t quite process the concept of death and the afterlife. She reminded me so much of myself at her age.
I was only five-years-old when my mother passed away in an accident. The day before she died, she gave me the music box which I had kept as my most prized possession ever since. We didn't have any other family and so my father was all I had left in this world. He cared for me to the best of his abilities, but he slowly crumbled under the pressure of being a single father. Very soon after we lost my mother, he searched for relief in the bottle, and eventually, gambling.
I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but then he remarried and my life changed. My father's new wife, Trisha, treated me with disdain, and I was bound to grow up without a sense that someone truly cared for me. The harsh experience taught me I couldn’t rely on anyone else, only myself. I had learned to be quiet and never draw unnecessary attention to myself. I had very few friends and spent most of my time drawing sketches of pedestrians on the street. Despite my dreamy character and all of the difficulties