Luciano's Obsession

nstant thrum of fear in my chest, the suffocating sense of helplessness that clung to me like a second skin. When you liv

ing light creeps through the cracks in the blinds, bathing my small room in pale, indifferent sunlight. The coffee maker gurgles i

es echoed through the thin walls of the tiny apartment, slur

ere he's sprawled out, clutching an empty bottle. His snoring is punctuated by occ

lf bitterly. Always

way to crawl out of the hole he's dug. He became this way when my mum die

don't want to wake him up yet. He'll be on me soon enough, demanding things I can't give. T

ack that's been there for months, untouched, collecting dust. Every time I see it, I fee

e silence of the morning. It's slurred, thick wi

uld ignore him or pretend I'm

ch. His eyes are barely open, his hair a tangled mess, and his clothes wrinkled from wh

my voice sounding emp

nd demanding. "I need you to pay some debts.

that, it cuts me a little deeper. He doesn't care about me, he only cares about hi

ice steady even though I can feel the tension buildin

hrough half-lidded eyes, a mixture of anger and desperation on his face. "What do you

our lives, that it's not my fault I'm the one cleaning up his mess, but I

words feel hollow. "But I can't fix e

he side of the couch. "Do you think I'm some charity case, Aria? Do you think I want to be in this posi

trip and manipulation. I wanted to tell him that I didn't ask for his "he

th and nod. "I'll

g the urge to break down. How did I get here? How did I end up in this life? How

to work, to make sure I bring in enough money to keep him of

'm trapped in this cycle of never

r and make my way to the door but before

ank," he says, his tone now condescending, as

les turn white. I turned and picked up the chec

I know he won't even remember as

hink about how many more days like this I'll have to endure. How many more

ver get out. And that

ent, past sagging houses and shuttered shops, toward the looming glass box of the bank downtown but halfway there, a familiar little house c

hat every second I wasted would only add fuel to my father's rage but a deeper

he broken stones. The porch creaked under my weight as I knocke

childhood best friend. Her messy blonde hair was twisted into a lopsided

e breaking through storm clouds. "Go

, I felt the tight knot in my chest loosen. I smi

like a hug. Laura's kitchen was warm, cluttered, alive. A s

ered with half-finished crossword puzzles and coffee mugs. "I j

around, slicing bread, pouring lemonade, talking a mile a minute. Her chat

, her keen green eyes studying my face

ng?" she as

h my fingertip. The words fought in my throat, shame a

, isn't it?" s

ed me before I could

my hand. Her touch was warm, st

He's been drinking, making deals with people he shouldn't. And today, he sent me to cash this." I lifted

he didn't ask why I still stayed - she

ired of always cleaning up his messes, tired of feeling l

nked them away fiercely. Crying wouldn't cha

e said fiercely. "You deserve so much better, Aria. You're not his

f freedom didn't feel so far away, like a

llowly. "He has no one else. An

with sadness - not p

ng to get out of that house, Aria. You're going to have the life you des

hest like a tiny spark, s

. "Thanks, Laura. I... I

e didn't exist. Laura went about her business, making beautiful dresses. I've always admired her sk

e warmth of friendship like a flower turned toward the sun until reality ca

seized

I'm

ng over my chair. "I have

ace. "Be careful, okay? Call me if

ed me tightly, and for a moment, I clung t

cket, and ran down the porch steps, down the cracked wa

the anger waiting for me at home. The accusations, the fists banging on tabl

e thoughts, I could st

going to have the

but for the first time in