2. The Handsome Bodyguard

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Annie ^^^
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AMALIA

Tears.

Something I've always hated to see. I don't like to see someone crying or even me crying. I hate crying in general.

The last time I've cried was when my parents died and that was ten years ago, when I was fifteen.

Crying is for weak people.

If I saw someone crying in front of me, I would get mad, so mad. Annie told me that I feel that way because I don't want to remember the ugly night that took my parents away from me. That I don't cry because if I did, I won't stop.

Maybe she's right, maybe she isn't. There is nothing wrong with crying as long as you don't cry in front of me.

That excludes kids and babies of course.

Placing the bouquets on their graves, I kneel and pray for them. My parents. My life. I remember them...every single thing about them, especially the day and the way they died.

And do you know what's the worst part? is that I still don't know who's behind their death.

"I hope you are in a better place. I miss you so much. I am sorry I haven't been here in a while, but um...." I say out-loud, "-I have a lot of work, not that it's more important than you, but it's just urgent." I lied.

I don't know if they hear me, but I cannot show them that I am still broken for their death. I cannot make them believe that I am not happy.

Standing up, I make my way to the car to leave. I visit my parents every month, once or twice. It's not that I don't want to visit them every day, it's just I can't handle seeing them every day. Underneath that rock. That's why I lie to them every time I come here.

I may be heartless, emotionless, manipulative bitch, but when it comes to my parents, I am not those things.

Checking my watch, the clock turns 6. One hour left for dinner.

I walk inside the mansion and make my way to my room. I must freshen up before dinner.

I undress and remove my makeup. I take a quick shower and dress again. I don't know why I cannot wear pajamas in front of everyone in the house. I mean...it is my house, right? but still, I feel vulnerable.

Yes, I feel vulnerable when I wear pajamas in front of strangers.

Making my way downstairs, I walk to the dining room. The food is already on the table and so is Annie, waiting for me.

"Scusa, sono in ritardo." I say as soon as I sit.

(Sorry, I am late.)

"nessun problema caro."

(No problem, dear.)

I make my way to the head of the table and sit on the chair. I glance at Annie and know that she has something to say.

"If you have something to say, say it." I say, picking up the glass of water and sipping, waiting for her response.

"Are you okay?" She hesitantly asks. She already knows that I don't like to be asked these type of questions; a sentimental one, yet she still asks.

"I am fine." I simply reply. I know she is not satisfied with my answer, but I don't care.

I start eating the dinner Ezekiel made, which is Mushroom Risotto, one of my least favorites. I am not that picky about food and so, I don't give Ezekiel a list of foods to make, I just trust him and eat whatever he makes.

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