chapter 6-a child's hope

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Massimo is different.

I can feel it in the way he talks to me, in the way he smiles.
It's a gentle smile, one that doesn't make my stomach twist with fear or make me wonder what's going to happen next.

He's been so kind, and he's always careful with me,  The way he speaks is soft, his voice full of warmth, not like the sharp, harsh tones I'm used to.

But Massimo...he's different. Or at least, I want to believe he is.

But even though he's kind, even though he's gentle, I can't stop the fear that bubbles up inside me. It's always there, like a shadow I can't shake.

I want to trust him-I really do-but the fear is stronger. What if I trust him, and he hurts me? What if all this kindness is just a trick, just like before? I've been hurt too many times, and the thought of it happening again makes my chest feel tight, makes it hard to breathe.

They all seem nice, not just Massimo. My father, Leonardo and Massimo -they all look at me with eyes that don't seem cruel.

They don't yell or get angry when I'm slow, when I stutter, My father...he's the one I think about the most. There's something in the way he looks at me, something soft, something sad, like he's been missing me.

I think he might really care, but I'm scared to believe it, scared that if I do, it will all come crashing down.

Massimo told me something in the car, something I've been holding onto even though it scares me to think it might not be true.

He said they all love me. I remember his voice, so sure, so full of something real. But I don't know if I can trust that. What if he's wrong? What if they don't really love me? What if they're just saying it because they have to?

And then there was what my father said-his words keep playing over and over in my mind,  He said he loves me. He said he misses me. He sounded so...sad, like it hurt him to say it, like he really meant it. I want to believe him more than anything, but every time I start to let myself, the fear creeps back in. It's like a little voice in my head that whispers, "Don't believe it. Don't get too close. You'll just get hurt again."

I want to trust them. I want to believe that they love me, that they won't hurt me, that they're different from what I've known.

But trust is scary.

I think about what it would be like to have a family that loves me. A real family, not one that hurts me or makes me feel small and scared. I imagine what it would be like to wake up every day knowing that there are people who care about me, who want me to be happy, who won't turn on me the second I do something wrong.

The thought makes my chest feel tight in a different way, like hope is trying to push its way in, but fear is blocking the door.

When I think about my father, about Massimo, about all of them, I can feel that hope knocking, trying to get in. They're so different from what I'm used to. They smile at me, they speak to me kindly, they don't raise their hands or their voices.

•The lost Russo•Where stories live. Discover now