A dangerous sin

Prologue

*two years ago*

Growing up it was always just me and my mom whenever I would ask about my dad my mom would always just say he left when I was a baby.

My mother told me that I wouldn't wanna know about him because he was a dangerous man that hurt people.

I've always wondered what he looks like but my mom told me she burned all the pictures of him.

I think she lied because no matter how much someone hurt you you always wanna keep a picture to remember them by. Just like uncle Aleksander and aunt Elena did. I heard she almost shot him in his private parts.

She never even told me his name.

So when I'm bored I write letters to him. I know that will never be shipped to him. I keep them in a box in my closet. There's at least a hundred letters in there.

Finishing off the letter I read over it one last time before playing it in the box.

Dear father,

There was a father and daughter dance this last weekend at school I wish I could've went but I don't have a dad at least I do I just don't know him mom told me I could've had tío take me but I declined it just wouldn't feel the same my report card came today I have all A's.  I thought it was nice to show mom today but she left for another meeting in New York so Elena and Aleksander are watching me for the week. I hope one day I can meet you and actually deliver these to you in person.

Love, your daughter.

I walked downstairs pouring myself some cereal when I heard the doorbell ring. I groaned walking to the door, opening it. I saw Alessio.

What the heck is he doing here?

Alone.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"Picking you up the drivers right outside so pack your stuff quickly" he said with a casual smirk on his face.

This is why seventh graders don't fall for freshmen.

"Well I'm eating so you can wait" I said.

"So Eleanor told me you got a boyfriend," Alessio said, sitting down across from me.

"Yeah so?" I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"What's his name?" Alessio asked.

"Why?" I glared at him trying to see why in the hell he'd want his name.

"I might know him" He said casually.

"He's in eighth  grade. His name is Hunter. Hunter Powell, football coach's son."

"That's great" he said.

"Why?"

"I mean your a cheerleader he's a football player perfect...couple" he scowled at the floor.