LEGACY/// FORMULA ONE (3)

FORTY TWO

FORTY TWO

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE

"Larissa, talk to me."

"No."

"Larissa, baby, please talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you! I want to talk to my dad!"

Nine year old Larissa Cohen screamed at her mother, Sara, as she sat staring at a photo of her father, Luiz.

In the photo, the man was sitting on top of his Ferrari whilst his little girl was sat in the drivers seat with her hands on the steering wheel, and it pained the child to see the smile on her father's face.

One that she was never going to see again.

She had her birthday only a couple of days before, as well as her father's death anniversary and it was her very first one without her dad being there, but it certainly was not going to be the last.

Because he wasn't coming back.

"Baby, you have to apologise to Pete, all he wanted to do was to give you a good birthday." Sara Cohen spoke to her nine year old daughter, seeing the girl trying to back the tears that were in her cold dark brown eyes.

"No I don't. I told you that I didn't want a birthday. I want my dad." Larissa stared longingly at the photo of her father.

All she wanted was one last hug from her papa.

Just one.

"You didn't need to do that, though! Pete was trying to make you happy."

"I don't want to be happy! I want MY DAD!" Larissa screamed at her mother, tipping the table in the middle of the room over in her anger.

"Pete deserved that punch! He's not my dad!"

"Your dad is dead, Larissa! You need to get that in to your stupid head that he's gone!"

Sara Cohen regretted the words that had left her lips as soon as she had said them, since she had instantly realised that she was speaking to her daughter.

Who was still only nine years old.

She should not had been forced to grow up as quickly as she was being forced to, but she didn't have a choice.

"Yeah, he is." Larissa glared at her mother in betrayal.

"But I wish it was you instead of him! I hate you!"

Larissa stormed towards her bedroom until a hand grabbed her wrist, pulling the child back to face her mother.

"Where do you think you are going?"

"I'm going to Uncle Micky! At least he knows how to treat me right! I hate you!"

____________________________________________________

"Larissa?"

Larissa Cohen drunkenly lifted her head at the sound of a familiar voice, before she brought her hand up to her face, which held a large glass bottle which was filled with alcohol.

Her eyes were almost rolling in to the back of her head from the amount of alcohol that she had been drinking.

She was leaning against the outside wall of a house, since she had somehow forced herself to walk to a place where she knew that she would be safe.