𝗖𝝝𝗟𝗗 𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗘

𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘

The way that voice pierces trough my skin. Tears down my facades with shovels so heavy, I can swear they're made out of steel.

Vivian.

The way that name leaves a mouth so uncaring. Strikes the skin around my face so forceful, I barely notice the sting so long lasting.

So out of the blue.

My body freezes in shock. Drops down to temperatures below the most frosty glacier.

When blue eyes so soulless, turn mine into ice.

Altore.

A name leaving lips so rarely, I shake at the sound when the quietest whisper leaves my mind.

"I had a feeling my beloved daughter would show this time around." Stiff, suited and stood upright while covered in Giorgio Armani from head to toe.

Eyes squeezed shut to shake off that stupid signature smell, reeking of success and everything else he's accomplished.

Hatred.

"It's Miami after all," the same watch secured around his left hand.

Hatred big enough to fuel the whole state of America.

"You have no business coming here." Note cards crumbled inside the palm of my hand, my failed attempt of keeping me sane.

Grey streaked beard and hair. He lets out a dull laugh. One of his famously critical head shakes nailing lips shut faster than any nail gun.

"Seems you have forgotten who got you here in the first place Vivian." A deep exhale leaves his airways and just for a second too long, I hope he suffocates.

"Rumor has it they're not doing too well. Wonder what will happen once their main sponsor decides to pull out. How long can Mercedes stay afloat, without a life boat?"

He wouldn't dare.

"You can't afford to do that," heat rises upwards my body, anger close to staining my face.

The Patek Phillippe watch covered hand glides over hair, black shoes walking right over my persona as he passes me. Faced with the back of a tailored jacket while he talks as if I'm a stranger stood behind.

A nobody. And not his goddam and only daughter.

"I can do everything."

My head starts to buzz.

"But what about you?"

A threat.

"You're walking on my field, Vivian. "

My own father the one planting worries right where damaged walls border. Broken facades all due to his shooting cannons.

Walking out of sight knowing no more munition needs to be shot. Confidence trailing along as he has made sure I myself would be the one to destroy what's left. Kneel in silence as my silent screams cause earthquakes destined to make bricks crumble. Fall to the ground one by one. What I once build with so much care and passion, laying stone after stone to shape a fortress. I watch turn into dust.

Like I do with me.

"Watch where you're going."

I always try to. Always believe the road is clear as I'm driving on it. Only noticing I've taken a wrong turn once my body hits the rock bottom. Never seeming to know why, never knowing how I could walk around with tinted sunglasses hiding the traps along the trail.

"Of fucking course it's you," a low grunt thrown at me.

A hazy film decreases my vision, but not enough to mistake him. Him and his noisy voice.