Morgana Acampora was born into wealth but riches over the horizon don't buy a happy home. For her family she goes unnoticed even if her actions are always done with the goal of gaining affection or at least some attention.
Horrific things can happen...
Just appear happy. They like it. And what's even better...be a complete happy fool. They love it.
"Hi, momma," I laced my arms around her tightly after nine months of not seeing a glimpse of her beautiful face.
"Hi, sweetheart," she pecked my right cheek holding me tightly. "You look gorgeous."
"Thank you," I pulled away and watched someone take my bags. "You look beautiful too," she's wearing one of her many expensive designer dresses that fit her like a glove.
"Thanks, baby."
"Where's dad?" I raised an eyebrow looking around.
She showed me a sorry look "He's in Italy."
I scoffed walking past her "Typical."
"Sweetheart, he had work—"
"Yeah, awesome," I said unbothered which is clearly not the case. On our way back home my mom decided to interrogate me about my nine month cast out situation which they call 'preparation for being a good wife'.
Her hand rested on my knee "How were the classes?" She tried to look into my eyes.
I leaned my forehead against the window thinking about my intro to culinary arts teacher's hand around my throat as he pounded me from behind "Fun."
"Why don't you cook dinner for me tonight? I can be your sous-chef," mom suggested rubbing my arm gently.
Flashbacks of my downstairs neighbor coming over at 3 am with tequila played in my head "Do I have a choice?"
"Stop being aggressive, Morgana," mom gripped my jaw suddenly and made me look at her. "Be respectful."
"Excuse me for the lack of respect but I haven't had a great examp—" she slapped me; my cheek immediately started throbbing but I didn't hurry to touch it.
People do that when they're surprised for receiving one but I'm not.
"Just shut up, Morgana," she instructed frustratedly.
That's more like her. Welcome home, me.
I was born in Tucson, Arizona but my whole life has been based in Atlanta. Dad is an oil tycoon. Um, yay? Not complaining about the undeserved privileges but there's a lot of things money can't buy me. Cliche but cliches are cliches for a reason.
When we got home a deep sigh left my mouth; this place would make anyone's eyes widen, their jaws would drop to the floor and they would want to thoroughly explore it; I just want to leave.
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