farfalla

II.

"Dad!" I opened up my arms to the ageless man I called my father. His blue eyes were piercing with the crystal blue coloring I had not received. Rather I had acquired my mother's eyes dark and beautiful. Even though I hadn't attained my father's most defining feature I had obtained his blonde hair that was now greying lightly on his sides.

"My little Farfalla!" My dad embraced me tightly from missing me for the long period we had gone without seeing each other. I really did wish I got to see him more but he had told me that it was for my own safety. I missed his embraces, the way he called me by my childhood nickname.

"I've missed you so much." I expressed following him inside his plainly decorated flat. The walls were stripped of any art or pictures, no accent pieces to stand out from the white walls. The living room only held two brown leather chairs that were positioned in the middle of the room with a coffee table putting space between the two pieces of furniture. The kitchen wasn't much of a sight either with it looking like it hadn't been used to ages which was most likely true.

Briefcases and papers filled the oval-shaped dining table in the small kitchen. Bullet packages and holders to guns that sat on the table scattered, giving off the only sign of a resident here. From the way my father dressed, however, you would have never guessed he lives in a smaller flat just outside London.

"I missed you too." My dad spoke walking towards a big open window where he checked on the man that had brought me here. The man began walking up to the door and stood in front of it with his arms bent to the front of his body in the position most bodyguards stood.

"So what is happening? You scared me when I got your call." I wanted to jump right into why I was summoned even though I enjoyed his missed company. The sad reality was that the only time we talked was when there was a security breach. 

"An old enemy has come back on the radar and there is intel leading us to believe that he is coming for you." My dad began to explain turning around from the window to face me. My heartbeat quickened hearing what little things I knew in the situation. All I knew was that now I was being hunted by a criminal my father hadn't caught.

"What would anyone want with me?" I questioned my mind reeling to the man who murdered my mum. My father didn't talk much of the death of my mother, he was tight-lipped about the subject.

"We don't have firm details just assumptions based off of what we have known in  previous situations." My father gave vaguely. I noticed my father's attire and the gun holster that strapped around his arms sitting by his rib cage. The black straps brought contrast against his white button down that was freshly pressed and ironed, the complexity of perfection ran through his blood.

"Is it the man who killed mum?" I dared to ask wanting to cover my hand over my mouth when the question slipped. Embarrassed by the suddenness of the question I searched his face to see he had no reaction to my question. The silence burned in my ears, bringing a blush to my cheeks from the long pause that we sat in.

"Yes." My father replied simply to which I gasped lowly, heightening my already escalating fear. I could still hear his voice in my ears no matter how hard I tried to drown out the dark tone that haunted me. The way he delivered threatening lines to my mother that I could only assume tried to protect herself as well as me.

I took a breath in efforts to self-medicate myself by calming my own nerves with breathing patterns I had learned. I was in a war against my own mind, I didn't want to see the flashes of blood that pooled around my mum's lifeless body. I didn't want my mind to flash the images of the shadow under the door or the shot that stripped away my mother's life. I fought hard to press the terrorizing memory away from my recollection.