After generations of men in the Giordano family, the idea of a baby girl was a mere dream.
So when their first and only princess was born, they believed they had found peace.
Finally, the world was extending an olive branch.
She doesn't remember a...
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"Olive?" I hear someone call my name from the other side of the door, and I reluctantly open my eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Fine!" I shout back, the sound of running water makes it impossible to decide which one of my brothers came to check up on me. Again.
"Are you sure? I can get-"
"I'm fine!" I shout louder, trying to focus solely on the harsh stream pouring all over me. I raise my hands up and run my fingers through my hair, untangling it as gently as I can. Even though I've been here for the past thirty minutes, scrubbing my skin over and over again, the water hitting the floor still has a tint of red in it.
I don't find any of it as comforting and peaceful as I'd hoped I would, not when almost my entire body is wrapped up tightly, all to prevent the bandages and the brace around my knee from getting wet. But hey, at least it's a knee sprain and not a broken leg, right?
I force my eyes close, attempting to block the thoughts from eating me alive even in the shower. My balance is as fragile as it can be, and I have no other choice but to lean against the wall and throw my head back when I can no longer stand on just one foot.
Shutting down the water with a sigh, I use all my power to push the glass door open. A few curses later, and I finally get out of the shower. My chest is rising and falling quickly as I rest my palms on the counter, my arms flexing with the effort of keeping myself up on just one functioning leg.
"Fuck." I mutter, accidentally finding my reflection in the mirror. Even though it's been five days since they got me out of there, my face still looks like absolute shit. My lips are split, a dark bruise covering most of my right cheek, and the little bump in my forehead is all but gone.
I was released from the hospital, well, their hospital, two hours ago, and the first thing I've done was locking myself up in this guest bathroom. Just one look towards the set of stairs I needed to climb to get to my room made bile rise in my throat, so I was forced to change my original plan.
Amadeo offered to carry me up, but one glare was enough to silence him. I don't need anyone to carry me up.
After wrapping a towel around myself and retrieving my crutches from the corner, I unlock the door. The guest room is smaller than my own room, definitely less colorful, but it's infinitely better than the hospital room.
My eyes almost immediately rest on the fresh set of clothes on the bed, and my heart skips for a second. I'm back. I swallow the growing lump in my throat and push the crutches forward.
By the time I'm fully dressed in short black sweatpants and a light green shirt I recognize as Amadeo's, I'm also breathing heavily. My fists are curled by my sides as I stare at the wall, hearing nothing but my own heart pulsing.
Is it the same shade of grey as the walls of the room they kept me in?
A knock on the door makes my head snap towards it, my heartbeats fully consuming my ears. "Olive?"
