Carlo

Chapter 1

Life is a beautiful lie that everyone chooses to live and believe, and death is that evil truth that people refuse to accept. Death is the only truth in this world, and people live their lives, believing and relying on the concept of life. So much so, that they completely forget the raw truth of death: it comes to everyone.

It was 9 years ago today that my mother was pronounced dead, and it was nine years ago today that the world turned grey. Anything that could possibly be classed as good turned numb. My mother was my best friend in this world of violence.

My father, Santiago Rivera, runs one of the biggest mafias worldwide and for that me and him have never gotten along. He makes it clear he wanted a son through the way he trained me from a young age. You'd think that would make us have a close bond but I was always viewed as one of his men. Not his daughter.

His heir.

I'm not too sure if he loved my mom, he didn't show it. We were both locked in a room and the only time we could come out was when I had training and she would come with me. Or I had a mission and she would stay in the room.

But I would always try and sneak out for a little longer, I was a kid. I still had my defiant times.

I killed my first person at 8, he said it was a way to prove my loyalty to him. I didn't want to do it but I knew the consequences would be far worse. But the nightmares that followed after I went through with it made me hate to sleep.

I never understood nightmares. I never understood how my brain could turn so dark, when I wasn't controlling it.

But now?

Now I understand, because I don't control
My emotions,
My feelings,
Or my thoughts.

I've turned into my own monster. My own nightmare.

All thanks to my father.

My father is a very violent man, but became worse when my mother died. That's my fault.

I was in the garden after training and fell asleep on the grass. When I awoke and went inside my mother was in my room in a puddle of her own blood a gunshot wound to the side of her head and the gun in her hand. A long cut on each wrist with the knife thrown across the room.

I ran to my father screaming and crying. That's the day he snapped.

He said she killed herself.

Because of me. I suppose he is right.

He told me all these things that were wrong with me. When she was finally laid to rest in the ground he let go of his restraint and hit me for the first time and locked me into a room with no windows.

The door locked and I was in the darkness. With my thoughts.

The dark room.

Nobody wants to be trapped in a room with their thoughts. It gets too much and you're going to go a little crazy at some point, It's just bound to happen. He told me that I would stay in there for as long as he wanted me in there. I wasn't allowed to cry or express emotion.

No matter how hard I try to cry I'll just sit there staring at nothing. I can't feel bad for myself, my life is good. Well... as good as it gets. I haven't been shown different so I'm guessing it's good.

I have a roof over my head, at least one parent left, I know how to defend myself.

I shouldn't cry.

I won't cry. There's nothing to cry about.

Ungrateful.
Ungrateful.
Ungrateful.

I can't be weak.

Crying?

Vulnerable.

Not me. I'm strong. I don't let small things affect me. I can't be brought down. The tears are a sign of weakness.

A white flag to my life.

Don't cry.
Don't cry.
Don't cry.

I stand up and shake my hands, pacing back and forth trying to regulate my breathing.

Cmon Adelaide you have a mission in ten minutes.

Calm down.

I count my breaths until I slowly get back to normal, tapping my fingers to my thumbs as I pace.

12344321.

And repeat.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and immediately spot all my flaws, it's strange how I went from loving to look in a mirror to hating it so deeply.

I've been ordered to go to my fathers office straight after his meeting so he's chosen my outfit. Which is odd. I will admit.

It's a black suit with a black bra type top. He always says my body should be hidden because I am too fat. So I don't understand.

I will have to say though, this is the only time he's picked out something that I like. Well, not the fact that my stomach is showing but I like it. Makes me feel powerful, kind of.

I shake my head and walk out of my bedroom, putting guns in the waistband of the pants and knives wherever I can hide them.