The Girl on Via Paolo Sarpi

Prologue

Do you want to hear something fucked up? 

I'm still alive. 

You would think that after all of this my body would be half way into the ground by now - lowered by one of those pulley things my Dad would probably have to be in control of. 

He would be the strong one, my mum would be crying and sister Lina would be comforting the both of them. I can fully see it now. It would be an absolute mess, I bet even my primary school friends I'd lost contact with over the years since I had been away would have even made an appearance. How pathetic that they would even show face after not having a clue where I was all the years prior. Reminds me of the Facebook message I once received from Lucy Nightly on my break home from a Japan contract. 

"Hey Baby" 

(make sure you read this in that annoying influencer style voice that I hate with a passion) 

"We seriously need to catch up while you are home, I have so much to update you on, the situation with Jacob is not good as per usual, like he treats me right and everything but like idk maybe he's not right for me and everything, but yeah like, let's meet while you're here, it's been so long my love." 

God, spare me the drama Lucy. I get enough of that in the career I'm in and I don't need more from you....is what I felt like furiously typing back. 

But what I actually sent was something along the lines of "Okay, yeah for sure we should hang, How's next Thurs morning?"

That's the thing though, there's certain people in your life that just keep popping up even though you really don't want them to. Opportunists seeking a slice of life they will never get in the social circles of Trakai. Like cockroaches who feed on almost anything - wherever and whenever they can get it, Lucy Nightly would search all over for any inch of drama. 

But anyways, I am still alive. It's like when I was seven years old walking across the bridge to the 15th century island castle we were so famous for. Pinching my flesh prison and jumping at the existential questioning that no 7-year-old should ever have... I am alive? I'm breathing? I'm here? But why?

And there I was, waiting away in that tiny tourist town with redbrick turrets and towers on Lithuania's Lake Galve until my day to answer the 'why' finally arrived.