Chiara Romero
A young, sweet little six year old girl that was ripped from the place she had lived in for not only a year, all because of her parent's choices. She had to live with the consequences of her parents choices.
She had to be re-stitched...
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- Leonardo Romero -
"They're in the area" I mentioned the common fact that should have kept this discussion on topic. But it didn't; it never seemed to.
If anything, my parents were after me and my money that I had made all on my own, hence why they were in the area, chasing us. Chasing me; their eldest son and the one that has done what they wanted all along.
I have been the son that worked the hardest, so that they could come chasing after me, for all of my hard earned money.
If they believe that I am stupid enough to think that I haven't seen all the people they have corrupted into getting them to get my bank details just so they can continue to live off of my money, they must be the dickheads.
"We know" was all they ever said. They never understood how many times I have had to move away from them, the amount of restraining orders that do the absolute minimum for my parents.
"You know what. Fuck it. I'm doing this on my own, like I should have from the start" I left the police officers office, not bothering to turn back when I was told to come back. I wasn't the same. I had never been the same.
My parents had created me, and I was going to be the one that destroyed them. They were not going to get the Anderson's to take Chiara back, and they were most definitely not getting to Luca. They were going to prison, and staying there.
"How'd it go?" Ales was in my face as soon as I had turned the corner. Same old rules applied to him as they did to everyone else: no brothers or other relatives in the discussion room. "Shit" was all I had to say for him to know everything.
He was the only person that could read me like there was no tomorrow. "So, are we running?" I knew exactly what he meant by the word running.
Getting away, moving out, changing names, anything so that our parents couldn't find us. Many people would say that we feared our parents, but how could you not?
When you have lived with them for as long as I had, you would be scared for your life. You wouldn't know whether or not you were going to be able to live another day without them killing you, or trying to kill yourself because of what they had breathed down your neck and ingrained into your own mind.
It was a constant battle with them, whether it be physical or mentally. If anything, I needed the most help, but I couldn't do that. I would only get help when I was on my death bed and my parents had been slaughtered by my own two hands.
They didn't deserve to live the lives they do; torturing their own children.
They are the parents that don't deserve children. "By the looks of it, yes, but we will stick around for a week. We can't let them win, not now, not ever"
It had come to the point where I was having to be in the police department nearly every day, trying to see where they were, but no one knew who they were disguised as, which meant that we would have to play their game just to live to see another day.
