Amara

Chapter 21 - Scars

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"The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may decide it, but in the end, there it is."

– Winston Churchill
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Salvatore's POV: Trigger Warning.

What the fuck? In the last 10 minutes, I have gone from being completely confused about what is happening, to so confused that I feel like my brain could fly out of my head.

When we were in the infirmary as soon as Sonny said he wanted to check her breathing, she just stared freaking out. I've never seen anybody react that way. Especially to something that lacked importance. At that point, the only instinct that I had was to calm her down. To hold and comfort her. I couldn't cope with seeing her like that, seeing her so scared. And then after all of that, she calls me Papa.

She calls me her dad.

During the night I checked up on her as much as I could. I would imagine scenarios in my head and would rush back down the corridor to make sure she was okay.

And now I'm standing in the kitchen, with two hours of sleep under my belt and a black coffee in my hand. And all I can think about are those two things. Every second my thoughts shifted between the two incidents.

Then I hear the sounds of footsteps from upstairs, making their way down to the kitchen. My breath hitches slightly, not sure how to react when Amara makes her way into the room.

After a couple more seconds the door swings open, and in walks Amara. She's wearing a baggy jumper, her hair is tied up in a loose ponytail and she looks even worse than I do.

Her eyes are looking down at the ground, but suddenly shoot up when she realises that I'm in the room as well. She flinches back a little, and then quickly moves her eyes away, looking everywhere but at me. "Amara," I say, trying to gain her attention.

"Crazy day yesterday huh? You know me and Armando went out for breakfast. He chose McDonald's," she says, ranting as much as she could. I know she doing it so we don't talk about the incident.

"Amara," I say again, trying to get her attention without raising my voice.

"I don't even know what I got. It was some kind of breakfast sandwich I think. It was good. I mean ..."

"Amara!" I shout.

She finally stops, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to calm herself. Her reaction makes me regret my actions instantly. "How about I make you something for breakfast? Anything you want." I ask her.

She doesn't say anything. Choosing instead to shrug her shoulders. I message Armando, asking him to pick up some breakfast for Amara. I don't usually ask him to run errands for me, but being the best brother in the world, and paing him a boat load of money should be enough so he shouldn't complain. "I've asked Mando to fetch us some food, anything in particular you want?" Again all I'm given is another shrug of her shoulders.

After sending my text to my sottocapo I look back at my daughter. She hasn't moved an inch, her body frozen in place.

I take a sip of my coffee before walking over to her. I lower my head slightly, trying to get to her level. "Angioletta?" I say, still nothing. "Look at me, baby." Thankfully she looks up when I ask, her ocean-blue eyes staring up at me.

I place my hand on her cheek, "I know you don't want to talk about it..." Her head moves trying to escape the conversation. "But we have to. You know we do." A small tear escapes her eyes. Pain glosses over her face. A nearly silent "okay" sounds from her lips.