Francesca ✔︎

••013

(NOT EDITED)

   It's been exactly three days. 20 hours. And 35 minutes since I got the letter.

I have been trying my very best to hold myself together and not go psycho.

I also keep begging my body and tear glands to not release fat tears that want to come out.

The letter sat on my desk, on top of a book, right by my red and blue pen holder.

I have read it over and over again. The cryptic and vile words were unsettling to me.

It was like I could not get enough of the letter. I am obsessed over it in a dire way.

On top of the unexpected letter I got, Vincenzo has been ignoring me.

Sure our unexpected lust taking over us happened, but I would have never thought it would cause him to distance himself.

Or be a complete dick for that matter.

In fact, he has been hanging out with Jessica for a couple days now.

Why did it bother me?

I have no fucking clue.

Probably because I was expecting him to be mature about it, instead he ignores me like some teenage girl.

I grab the letter for what feels like the hundredth time.

It has been touched enough that the corners and edges were wrinkled. There was even a brown stain on the bottom from where I splashed coffee on it.

I read over the words once again, thinking of how I got this awful mail.

.........Flashback.........

"Ria!" I yell, walking down the spiraled stairs.

We were supposed to go to a café and shop for shoes thirty minutes ago. She takes forever to get ready.

Well at least I thought, turns out she was not getting ready in her room.

Now I'm on the mission to find her.

I walk in the kitchen only to see muffins sitting in a pan.

"Good morning, dear. Care for a muffin or scone?" Helene, the chef, asks with a bright smile.

"Um fuck yeah!" I pounce on the blueberry muffin, covered in sugar.

"Language."

I wince, giving Helene a guilty smile. ''My bad,' I mouth the same words I always respond with when she says 'language.'

I met Helene the day after we went to that night club. She was on vacation in Romania since I first joined the crime family.

I moan with a mouthful. "These are so damn good, Helene." The muffin is so light and fluffy.

"Thank you, dear."

Helene was a 53 year old, short 5'0 woman with short black hair. Her presence always seemed to make me calm.

In the short time of three weeks, I considered Helene as a motherly figure to me.

I'm guess she felt the same, she said I reminded her of her daughter before she passed.

My heart broke for her when she told me every detail of the deathly car crash her daughter was in.

A drunk truck driver crashed into her daughter, Leanne's little cube car. The car got flipped over.

"Helene, have you seen Ria anywhere? We were supposed to be somewhere." I finish my muffin in record time while she thinks.

"She came in here earlier for a glass of apple juice. She went outside to collect the mail from the mailbox." Helene, explains while washing dishes.