𝐆𝐈𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎, a young girl who's never known stability. Raised by a reckless, unstable mother, she spent her childhood caught between drug runs and police raids, ruining her right for a normal childhood. One night when her mother go...
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The drive back home was quiet except for Damon's music humming through the speakers.
It turns out Damon isn't a complete asshole. Surprisingly, he can actually be fun to be around when he's not being a jerk, which is almost never.
I press my forehead against the cool window, watching the city blur past. So many buildings. So much noise.
"Why do you guys even live in New York?" I ask, not looking at him.
Damon shrugs, one hand on the wheel, "I don't know. Papa liked it, life happened, I guess."
I stare at him. "That's it?"
He glances once, eyebrow raised "What, did you expect some traumatic story?"
I roll my eyes, "It's just New York is kind of random. Like why not Italy, isn't that where you're from?"
"Where we're from— and yes, we are," he sighed, leaning his head back against the headrest. "Besides that women hated it" he grumbles, like the words scrape on the way out. That women?
I frown. "Who?"
Damon glances over at me, jaw tightening. His grip on the wheel shifts.
"Your mother," he says, like it tastes bad.
I stiffen at the mention. The name lands heavy in the car. Sometimes it shocked me how much my mom was hated in our family. I don't think I can ever really hate her. No matter how many times I try to convince myself otherwise. That clearly isn't the case for my brothers though.
I wonder if she was ever normal. If our family was happy all together. I'd like to think that.
Damon turns his eyes back to the road. "She complained nonstop," he adds, quick and sharp. "Papa's family, the sun. Everything was 'too much.'"
I nod slowly, still staring straight ahead. My hands curl in my lap.
"So she was the reason," I say.
Damon nods. "And of fucking course Papa did whatever the fuck she wanted." he scoffs, shaking his head.
He switches lanes aggressively, cutting off a car that honks behind us.
"She'd say things like, 'Just for a year,' or 'Let's try something new,'" Damon mimics, mocking. "And Papa—" he shakes his head again, "—he'd just nod. Every time."
"And you all just... went along with it?" I ask.
"What choice did we have?" he looks at me like the answer should be obvious. "She was miserable everywhere,"
That makes my chest tighten, but I don't say anything.
The words press into my chest, tight and heavy. I swallow. "Maybe," I say slowly, "maybe she just... didn't want to feel stuck. Some people can't handle staying in one place."
