VINCENZOI came down to the chair and placed my text on the table. Staring back at me was the worst of the worst: Economics of Money, Banking and Financial Markets. Some days—like now—I wondered why I'd settled for a major in Finance. There wasn't any reason other than my parents' approval. Quite an irony, considering that I disagreed with them on everything. It turned out that I'd been a lost sheep. I hadn't a clear vision of what I wanted to do. So, rather than giving Madre more reasons to doubt me, I settled for what had been on the table. I finally got a choice a month after first year, but couldn't imagine deferring my admission to start all over. Instead, I'd endure this hell of a major and wait till after graduation. Again, I looked to be at an advantage, as my degree in Finance would come in handy when I started Law school.Exams were in full swing now. Started of last Thursday, and I haven't had any breathing space ever since. My department was notorious for being on the f
RINA"Alright, time's up.”"Sh—" I jammed my mouth, blocking the rest of the cuss from spilling. I couldn't believe I'd almost said that out loud. Murmurs broke out, giving me a sense of hope: I wasn't the only one yet to finish."Your papers now," the professor came again. His tone much sterner. I set my fingers in motion and hurried through the question. The very last. Occasionally, I'd glance at the balding man to know if he'd left the theater like he threatened. Luckily, I made it to the end before he decided to follow through with his threat. Joining the line to make a submission, I caught people’s chatter about how easy the paper was. Easy but bulky. That was Storia Dell’arte Contemporanea for ya. A lot of my course mates wore a look of satisfaction, coupled with those that talked about the answers. All in all, everyone was confident in their ability. Everyone minus me. I agreed with the part about the questions being easy, but the problem laid with my approach in answering
RinaThe worst decision I'd made, apart from accepting to follow Mammà to the pack house, was to give Sophia my number. It'd been calls after calls after calls. Everywhere, every freaking time. Right now was no different. It was still the same old stuff. The tickets, party preparations and Piccolo Maestro. Nothing annoyed me as much as her fixation on Piccolo Maestro did. She wanted to know everything about him. What he was doing and what clothes he had on. What he had for lunch and whether the o'clock shadow appeared? His routine, his this, his that. Would I be rude if I said Sophia behaved like him?" It was pure…what's the word? Pure obsession. I sighed as the phone rang again. Drying my palms on my blouse, I reached for it. Her voice shot through before I could speak, "Do you think you're being fair? You think I don't have anything better to do than waste my time and battery calling you?""I'm sorry.""The hell you are! You always say that. What's going on? Am I a disturbance
Unknown pov- I threw my backpack into the backseat before engaging the muscles of my arm into yet another wrestling contest with the door to the driver side. "Come on now."I gave one more tug before the door came open. Climbing inside, I slammed the door shut. It wouldn't come close. I tried again, harder this time, and then collapsed against my chair as exhaustion fell on me. On a normal day, I'd have found this funny. But my mood had been so badly ruined that I found nothing amusing anymore. It seemed like this part of town was intertwined with stinginess and greed. Imagine paying £ 55 per day for a piece of crap. And I wasn't even sure this thing would carry me to the villa.A young man walked across, dragging a full garbage bag to a dumpster. The name on his uniform painted a grimace on my face.CLC: Casa Lontano da Casa. [Home away from home]What a fancy name for a shithole inn. This place had done to me something that Karma hadn't done to anyone before. Where the fuck do I
VINCENZOThe pack house pulsed with two distinct sounds. The upbeat music shooting from the living room, and my grunts. A bitch had her butt clasped on my dick; my head was thrown back as spams upon spasms of pleasure coursed through me. This was the first I was getting laid since the semester ended. And it had only been yesterday that I realised how sex starved I was. Coughing out a groan, I freed myself from her and started getting dressed. I didn't give a second look before leaving and returning to the partying room. All signs pointed at the fact that my parents were away. Colours—red, blue and green—shot from the disco ball, painting up the room. People were chattering, laughing, grinding and generally, living their lives. Given how loud the music was, my chest drummed. I was a happy-go-lucky guy which explained why I threw a party to mark the end of a semester. There was no sense in being a workaholic. I sat with Michele and Luigi, my arms spread wide on the head of the couch.
RINA"Next up. Rina." Mia looked up from the sheet of paper and sneered. Unenthusiastically, she read out my day's work. "Will be taking the garden, collecting the garbage and doing dishes."That said, I returned to what I'd been doing since I came to the assembly ground. Wandering mentally. We had three days till the end of the year, and as such, were preparing for the Festival of the Sun—my favorite holiday until lately. To prove how wrecked I was, Mammà and I would be visiting some relatives in Bologna; but I was anything but excited. It seemed like my mood would never be revived. Not even by the prospect of babysitting Uncle Enrico's cute daughter. . Everyone dispersed, going to their respective posts. Fortunately for me, it was airy outside. The sun was perfectly tucked under the clouds, and a cool breeze brushed across. I'd have been a sweltering mess if that hadn't been the case. I worked through the afternoon and had lunch with Mammà. It wasn't the usual kind as we barely
RINARina, take a deep breath. Breath in; breath out. There's nothing you can do. I had tears in my eyes and an emotion that was similar to the one I got when Papà died. Denial, that was what it was. Not wanting to believe a fact was a fact. Wishing so damn badly that the hands of time slid backwards to afford me the opportunity to right the wrong of the present. It laid on the ironing board, staring at me. The blackened spot around the breast pocket of Liliana's jumpsuit. The time she'd given me had long passed; I wasn't ready to leave the laundry room. I didn't think I could. What's the worse that can happen? An unknown voice rang in my mind. Yes, what was the worst? I didn't have a strong threshold for pain, and I probably would spend the night crying, but wasn't that where the torture would end? My hands came to my face, wiping off tears. A dry chuckle left my lips. Good riddance I hadn't been excited for the Festival of the Sun. Good riddance I hadn't imagined how much of a g
RINAA turn sent the shower wailing. I stood still —my eyes closed—as warm water rained on me. It was so for the next minute or two: me, not moving with just the rush of the water as the only sound here. I couldn't bring myself to make a move. To pick up my sponge and start bathing. I didn't see myself leaving the shower anytime soon. Or leaving it at all. The water was just too sweet to let go of. It was like an addictive drug. What made me reach for my sponge was the mere fact that this wasn't my house. And that I couldn't even afford such luxury to begin with.I scrubbed my body. The smooth sponge, suddenly becoming sandpaper due to how much force I used. I knew, though, that no matter how much I scrubbed, no matter the fact bruises might surface, I would never totally wipe out Piccolo Maestro's touch. I'd been doing that since everything started, and this morning he came close to me, I'd washed up..Still.Wherever I was, his presence hovered around. I couldn’t make something as
EPILOGUE Vincezo Moreno They were removing her off life support today. Jaw clenched, straight went my gaze. At infinity. Thunder droned at a distance. Clouds, gray, were laden with rain. It'd fallen all night. I'd taken an early morning flight, fortunately, and so, had been able to make it here. I didn't know if I should be comforted that nature empathized with me. Mourning along with me. Or I should break more, knowing that Rina had been to be next Luna, the reason why the skies mourned her imminent exit. I gave out heavy, fervent sobs, fishing out some tissue from the armrest. I wept into it. No. Grief hadn't left. It never would. As long as I lived, this was what I'd be: a grieving man. Wiping my nose, I set out to the pearl white walls of Andrea Filemone International Hospital. My fingers curved around the tiny velvety box. I held back the tears till I got to ICU: Room 4 and shut the door behind. The heart monitor beeped. My Rina still laid like a corpse on the bed, not d
Vincenzo MorenoDay 3: post operation. White stark walls moved behind as I was wheeled into ICU: room 4. My system was asleep, with just my ears acknowledging the clomp of feet on the floor, muddled chatters and the squeal the wheelchair had as it rolled on along the tiled floor.The nurse pushed in the door. My heart throbbed the instant I spotted her. It wasn't good for my recovery, as the doctor had said; I didn't care. I couldn't, not when she was involved. Something washed over me. Hurt that clawed at my core. The nurse placed me next to her and left. I lifted a hand, then placed it on Rina's. My cloudy eyes moved to her face.It was unbelievable, so much, because I'd thought I'd lost her. Almost pushed to tears, I kissed her hand—my eyes shut tight as I communicated using my mind. We'd converse this way until she recovered.I cannot believe it: I'm holding you. You are here with me, life and direct. There's so much that's to be said. So much I should let out that I have th
Vincenzo Moreno When I'd gotten a text from Alessio, I hadn't done the expected. Rather than steam with rage, I shut my eyes in relief, for it was all over. I would get Rina at long last and eliminate that son of a bitch.I'd gone straight to Padre and stood my ground. I'd venture into the jungle of Valle del Teschio. It'd been clear Padre was too interested in the whereabouts of the moon statue to see the emergency at hand. He'd been too distracted to think clearly. And not only that. This was my fight. My mess. And only I could clean it up. Nearly twenty-four hours down the line, I was marching into the unwelcoming forest, accompanied by an army of soldiers. The only thing I saw good about my pack was the level of organization it showed. The soldiers who were armed to the teeth were proof. They made up the emergency tactical unit. Always on their feet at the snap of the finger. The undergrowth impeded our movement; our determination was the driving force that kept us going. The
Rina ZanteFire crackled in the background. It was one marker that showed the girl on the floor, whose legs laid sprawled and eyes closed, was alive. That, together with the occasional forcing of air into her nostrils. I hadn't seen my period in months; so the growing pain around my belly felt strange. It'd started yesterday with just a dull throbbing. Now, it came more frequently, resembling my period with its undulating intensity. A low and a high. At the onset, I'd worried something was wrong with the babies. And even as I'd figured what could be amiss, dread sank deep into my bones—chilling my blood. It wasn't supposed to happen now. I pressed my teeth into my upper lip as the painful wave waltzed across. It wasn't supposed to happen now. A tear of heartbreak escaped. I couldn't have the babies here. Not now. My heart wept out of disappointment. I'd had faith the moon goddess would come through for me. I'd been in Central Temple, in my dream, happy like never before as I ca
Leonardo (Alessio)Everywhere was soaked in green. Even the air. It oozed of the scent of herbs. I got out of the car, which was something I'd looked forward to since the journey began. Not just because my bones ached, but also the car had been suffocating in the figurative sense of it, and till now, I couldn't explain how or why I was subject to guilt. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped from the weight of my feet as I trudged ahead, stopping in front of a beastly truck. This was our new home for the meantime. Until we got to the endgame. The hood bore dust and leaves laid strewn over its surface extending to the bottom rim of the windshield, bringing to my notice a poster of Mario Domenico—a well-known survivalist. A wooden wall was mounted at the tail region of the car. The wall formed a convex hood above the windshield. I went to the side of the truck for further inspection. There was a door, a pigeonhole notched close to the back tyre, a large window towards the back. And a ch
Vincenzo MorenoI forced open the door, cutting Dr. Yolanda short. "See it now? They've fucking succeeded."Initially taken aback, Dr. Yolanda sent her gaze to the receptionist standing beside me, eliciting an explanation for why I had barged in from the dumb girl. Dr. Yolanda didn't show she was mad. Rather, she waved the receptionist away, turning to me. "I'm currently having a session, Vincenzo.""This is a matter of life and death. Definitely it's worth looking into with immediate effect." She paused, eyes fixed at me, and pressed back against her swivel chair. "What is it?"I frowned. "Yes. What is it?""You don't expect me to talk…now." I looked at the client seated across from her. "So, it's private. Surely, it isn't something too pressing you can't spare some minutes." I glared at her, the intensity almost lethal. Yet, she held my gaze, not at all intimidated. "Go on, Vincenzo. The longer you stand there, the less your chances of meeting with me." After several seco
UnknownA four lettered bitch. Something cruel and unfair. A tyrant who everyone feared. None questioned it. None could challenge it to a fight. That was what life was. Life wanted me to be like everyone. Accepting the shit it threw my way with open arms. It was an absolute impossibility for me to succumb because none of it made sense. How was it that one was favored, and the other person disposed of like garbage? Alessio Salvatore wasn't better than me. He hadn't been taller nor with more powers. In actual fact, we both—like other babies—had been born with zero abilities. He hadn't been more facially endowed, nor blessed with an angelic cry. We'd both had the potential to keep our parents up at night with our wails. Yet, he'd been chosen over me simply because he'd been the first to arrive. I had been seen as the lazy one. Belief had it that I still was attached to the other world, and so would have a negative impact on the true born and everyone around me.They hadn't blinked be
Rina ZanteBit by bit, the wardrobe came into view. I fixed my eyes at it for a while before finally heaving up. My arms bore the under of my belly. A huge yawn left my mouth. I was tired, even though the sleep had been long and peaceful. Then again, I didn't see myself fancying the idea of taking another nap. My gaze moved to the curtains. It was well lit. A clock hanging next to it stated the morning had long started. Some minutes to nine. Off to the bathroom, I couldn't say what would become of today. One thing was sure, however, I'd be out of town in a short while. As I brushed, a thought materialized. It was one that widened the soft spot that'd been attached to my heart ever since my belly became visible. The bathroom sink had inspired the thought. It looked just as cozy as the tub in my dream. Clean in its pale blue color and adorned with cloud patterns around. The dream had been lucid; I could remember details of it. The babies had been having their bath. Just me with the
Vincenzo MorenoHer room was a brown monochrome. Fairly furnished and with large panel windows. I couldn't stop myself from wondering if every therapist's office was this way. Depressing. Dr. Yolanda edged close and handed me a cup of coffee. "I'm going to be honest with you," she said while lowering to her seat. "I'm glad you called."Her gaze spoke volumes. She expected me to lay my worries bare—my greatest pet peeve. However I had no choice. I wanted none of these anymore: torn away from Rina, waking up miserable, and being in exile. "Do you want to talk about it?" I stroked my thumb over the handle of the cup, then sent the hot beverage sliding down my throat. "How much time do I have?" I asked. "Forty five minutes, but I'm willing to make it an hour."Why? Because I'd make an interesting study?My focus laid on the coffee as I mentally prepped myself to talk."I want all this to end. I just want to wake up and see this as part of the past." A short pause followed. "I don'