Angelina
The big iron gate slowly swings to the side, its hinges squeaking in the process. Every time I came home, I told my dad the damn thing needed to be replaced. He always said he was going to do it, assuring me that when I returned the next time, a new gate would be waiting for me. Now, it just reminds me of my father and how Diego slaughtered him.
I squeeze my hands into fists and regard the surroundings as the car heads toward the massive one-story mansion at the end of the road. Every second that passes, dread keeps building in my stomach. I thought I would never again see this place, or at least I hoped I wouldn’t. It’s strange. I never thought I could both love and hate a place as I do my childhood home.
The driver parks the car beside the wide, stone steps leading to the orn
