"𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑰 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐?"
___________
⚠️sᴛɪʟʟ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ⚠️
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Haunted by the night when me and my mother were forced away from our daily lives in Mexico...
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With my hand settled around Dad's arm and Dad securing his hand inside his pocket, he led me towards the garage. Some of his men shadowed us, concealing their presence, but years of training to be like them gave me knowledge of their light steps behind us.
Blurs of expensive, exquisite paintings adorned the walls as we passed, catching my peripheral vision as we inched closer to the garage. Dad enjoyed many privileges as a trusted soldier to the Galletti. Rumors suggested he was more like family to them than just a soldier. One of these privileges was having his own garage to store his gazillion cars.
Finally, we came to a halt in front of an elevator adorned with golden rings on the top and bottom, featuring clear doors. "You see this," Dad pointed at the doors, "This is to make the ride more exciting." One of the men shadowing us swiftly stepped in front of us, deftly pressing the button that caused the elevator doors to gracefully slide open, revealing the space within. With each step I took, my heels clicked against the smooth tiles beneath them, resonating in the confined space. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander, captivated by the simple yet intricately designed structure of the elevator. A square mirror stood opposite us, reflecting our figures, while creamy white ceramic tiles adorned the floor beneath our feet, flanked by pillars shining resplendently in their golden glory.
As the elevator descended, a slight flutter resonated through the cabin, signalling its movement. Within seconds, the clear windows were engulfed in complete darkness, leaving only the warm glow inside the elevator to guide our vision. Being situated on the top floor, we embarked on a designated route that wound its way through an intricate maze of walls, leading us to the hidden gem beneath the house—the garage.
"You've truly surprised me," I exclaimed, still in awe of the golden pillar's radiant yellow hue. "Don't get me wrong, I always knew you had an obsession with the glamorous life, but I never expected this level of addiction." My attention shifted to his perpetually youthful face, untouched by the passage of time. "I mean, even the elevator had to be glamorous?"
He teasingly flicked my forehead, evoking a playful reaction. "Of course it does!" I hastily removed my hand from his arm, placing it gently on my forehead. "Ow, you idiot," I whined. "I have sensitive skin, and I look absolutely stunning tonight. I can't afford to have a red spot on my forehead." He didn't say anything, but I could sense his eyes rolling in response. Lost in my reflection in the mirror, I gently pressed on my bronze forehead, warding off any potential blemishes.
Suddenly, Dad grabbed my elbow and spun me around, redirecting my focus outward. "Look!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with unmistakable pride. "This view alone is worth every penny of the ten million dollars spent on it."
I gasped, barely able to form a response longer than "you said what?" As I peered below, a stunning spectacle unfolded—a fleet of magnificent, expensive cars graced the vast, well-lit expanse of the garage. Each vehicle meticulously arranged in a mesmerizing display, much like my colour-coordinated wardrobe that he made fun of. While I intended to deliver a sly remark, I found myself equally enchanted by the sight, caught up in a newfound obsession alongside my enduring love for clothes.
