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The sun was creeping through my half-shut curtains, conveniently shining directly on my face. I don't know how long I've laid here and I have no clue when I even managed to fall asleep. All I do know is that the phone call from last night has been on a constant loop in my head. My father trying to hold in sobs, my uncle having to explain to me, in minor detail, what had happened and my knees giving up on me, sending me flying to the floor.

We had a house phone, but not one that was ever able to be used to make after school calls to your best friend or order a 2 in 1 hair straightener from QVC. It was used solely for my father or uncle to contact us, whenever they had time. Usually the conversations were about how work was going or where our family would be uprooted to next, but last night when I picked up the boxy black phone, I knew it wouldn't be one of those discussions.

"Figlia..." my father's thick Italian accent rasped through the phone. He was usually upbeat, even in his most stressed state, I bet you even if he had a gun to his head, he always sounded more than happy to be calling us. The way he didn't continue, he waited to make sure he had my full attention was unnerving to say the least.

"Yes papa?" I barely audibly whispered, tears burning in my eyes, but I refused to let them pour over, blurring my vision of the room in front of me.

"Vinny, Tony," he choked back a very deep sob before continuing, "I am so sorry figlia, I'm so sorry." Muffled static replaced my father's voice until another recognizable voice came into the ear piece.

"Sophia," my uncle Giano spoke, sounding just as broken as my father but far more composed. Given whatever the circumstances they're trying to relay to me, one of them must be on his A-game no matter what and right now that person is him.

"Ciao zio, what's going on?" I surprised myself with how strong my voice sounded compared to the breaking whisper that came from my lips mere seconds ago.

"They were killed." All he said to me before the tears that were threatening to break free spilled over. My knees betrayed me and left me in a hunched over position on the hardwood floor of our living room, with my free hand clutching my chest.

"Wha-wh-how?" I managed to stutter out in between sobs. My eyes screwed shut but the hot tears flowing freely down my face.

"We were ambushed last night. They didn't even get a chance to fight back before- "

"Giano!" my father's voice boomed through the phone, causing me to jump and making Giano audibly gasp.

"That is my little girl you are speaking to and your niece. You will not tell her the details of what happened. It is a very fragile situation." His voice gained all its power back as he scolded my uncle who had begun to recount the undoubtedly gory details to me.

"Marco," my uncle began to protest, having always been on my side when it came to knowing anything involving their work, and the only one who could talk my father into letting me hear any of it.

"No." my father spoke sternly before more muffled static and his voice became clearer to me once again. "Put your mother on the phone now Sophia, and go to bed. I love you." His voice became softer and his quick anger towards my uncle had subsided.

"Goodnight dad, love you too." I choked out before running to the kitchen with tear stained cheeks, forcing the phone into my mother's grip.

She looked at me with furrowed brows, but as she put the receiver up to her ear, I bolted up the stairs, unable to be around to witness her reaction to what my father was about to tell her. I was almost to the top of the stairs when a blood curdling scream rang through the silenced house, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut in agony.

Just as quickly as she let out her scream, the 5 armed men, stationed at our door bust through and ran towards the noise. Muffled sobs and shouts were heard throughout the house as I lay in bed silently crying. I knew my aunt was down stairs with my mother, I knew all my father's men working our grounds were now somewhere in the house, following direct orders on what the next move should be and I knew that by tomorrow this lovely house planted somewhere in rural Oregon would be a distant memory of where we received the worst news of our lives.

That brings us to now. Me lying in bed, squinting against the light with a puffy face and very noticeable knot in my stomach. I rolled over to check the time on my bedside clock, which was flashing 3:33 meaning at some point last night the power went out.

I forced myself out of bed and into my adjoining bathroom. Glancing at my reflection was the worst decision I could've made and left me flinching at my tear stained cheeks, blood shot eyes and black undereye circles. I did my normal morning routine, washing my face, brushing my teeth and hair and changing out of pajamas, only to put on a similar pair of leggings and sweatshirt, before heading downstairs.

When I first entered the hall, there was an eerie silence looming over the house and by the time I made it to the top of the stair case, every person in the building was either yelling, crying or typing away on their laptop. I slowly made my way down the stairs in search of my mother, who I found sitting at the kitchen island on the phone, speaking very fast Italian.

I faked a cough to gain someone's attention and when my mother's eyes landed on me, she took two large paces until she wrapped me up in a very tight hug.

"Love, how are you feeling?" she asked, concern laced in her usually bubbly voice as she held my face in both of her hands at arm's length examining my features.

"I'm ok mama, what's going on?" I asked, gesturing to everyone and all the chaos around me.

"Well, as I'm sure you've figured out," she started, dropping her hands from my face and walking back to the island indicating I should follow, "we can no longer stay here. It is not safe for us or Maria and the babies." She handed me a cup of juice, gesturing me to drink it before continuing. "We will be leaving as soon as night hits and will be meeting your father somewhere in Arizona." She informed me before leaving a light kiss to the top of my head and picking the phone back up to resume her call.

I spun around on the barstool where I was seated and silently observed all the men running around, yelling into phones, on skype with other people who worked for my dad and uncle, hunched over maps highlighting random points, or typing so hard it looks like the keys might break off their keyboard. I slid off the stool and started upstairs to, once again, pack up my life and move to a new state where no one knows who I am and no one ever will.