When Storms Collide

~1~

I want you to go somewhere far away Angelica.

I want you to go back to Italy.

I want you to find your father, darling. Show him this picture. Tell him about me, about how we got here, everything. He just has to look at you to believe you.

I know it won't be easy and I am so sorry for that.

I wish I was here with you.

I wish I could turn back time and undo my mistakes but I can't. It has to be you.

Angelica, you are strong. Stronger than anyone I know.

And you are brave.

I hope you know that everything I did was because I loved you.

I will always be with you."

I tried to swallow the growing lump in my throat. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand furiously trying to get rid of the moisture that had managed to escape.

I read the name over and over again.

My father's name.

A stranger's name.

I didn't remember anything about my father or brother, my mother had always avoided talking about them I knew it was because it caused her too much pain.

I knew my brother was dead. He had been killed and I had been there when it happened. Everything else about my biological father and brother was a blur.

The doctor said I had psychogenic amnesia, a memory loss condition associated with severe psychological trauma. My condition was undoubtedly due to the events that had taken place thirteen years ago, events that led to the murder of my brother and ended with my mother leaving my father.

My hands shook. All I wanted to do was scream.

"You asked me to come here to Verona, Italy and I did. But you didn't tell me what I was supposed to do once I got here Mama." I whispered. "The only thing I know about my father is his name, I can't even remember him. How am I supposed to find him? And even if I do find him what makes you so sure he'd believe a goddamn photograph which could have easily been stolen or forged."

I can't believe you actually left me here in this mess.

What am I supposed to do?

Where am I supposed to go?

How am I going to survive...

"This is a huge mistake." A man's squeaky voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

There was a cold chuckle.

"Non lo penso, amico mio" (I don't think so, my friend)

I shoved the envelope in my bag pack and slowly got up from where I was sitting. I followed the sounds of the voices. The feeling of dread settled deep in my chest.

The voices came from an alley just a few feet away from where I was.

I plastered myself against the wall and peeked.

There were four men in total. Three of them wore black suits and sunglasses and they surrounded the fourth man.

"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance. I'll do anything." I could see that the man was shaking badly, he was terrified.

"Mi spiace che il capo abbia detto di non avere più possibilità." (Sorry, but the boss said no more chances.) The man in the suit who had blonde hair replied.