AFTER THE FALL; HER SIDE OF THE STORY

INE'

hink my second would involve blood, fire, and the sound of my o

of the house!" Vincenzo yelled wi

ith his shirt half-buttoned and had a gun in

tened around our son, and Lorenzo in return, curled his

hat last word was said in almost a whisper.

ing about the way he said "please" for some reason made m

re also lot of screams from maids and assistants as gunshots rang out. Thos

ed me behind

look back." he sai

I "did" looked back and that

soaked in sweat as the sheets wrapp

econd to remem

e marble floors or gilded doorways. I'm not in

ondon with peeling paints, a creaky bed and fa

llway. That's the only part of

at's going to slow down my heartbeat whil

scene. It's now persistent and it has become a punish

now what time it is and it's

here's a painting I started last week, which is still unfinished. It had red strokes o

forgot to drink the tea I made before passing out on the sofa again. I s

red anymore. I'm

otification pop up "two new emails

p? You were q

Yes" or open a door for a conversation. I don't have th

ive. He is easy to be around and easy to hide behind a

ncenzo still takes up space i

hnically kicked me out but who's counti

t by the window to take in the view of the rai

es with same guilt and same broken promises which were stuck on repeat

rn". He said I never listened. W

en when he to

n when he begg

, he handed me those papers. The stupi

oked at me that night. Jeez! Vincenzo looked as if I

e," he had said. Maybe I wasn't, It cou

nd I'll probably just lay there until the sun s

pretend it's just the weather making everything feel he

ence hurts worse

o pass a message across to me as it kept falling. Perhaps,

lights blur through the drops. Everything looks soft and dist

leep. Of course I know that, but the bed feels too empty. It's too

t would be Vincenzo's voice, and this time m

ts. The floor felt cold as my socks are thin but I care less about t

with angry colors. It has no shape and no p

red again, then a black and then a hard line through the middle. I d

stop me fr

y hand began to shake and my

ike drinking tea again, it now seems that "tea" is enough to restore my energy,

d towards the clock and it

my phone bu

you want to talk". I still didn't reply. It's not because I didn't care. It's ju

between my hands and I began to stare a

d, If I had ru

still ha

till look at me

the midst of all these thoug

re as I awaits the