Luca
I stared at the ceiling until the click of keys blurred into a rhythm I couldn't follow. Mila's smile kept replaying behind my eyes until everything went numb.
Why her? Why her, of all women in the world, did my entire being crave?
How could a person control someone’s life in that way?
“What’s keeping you from telling her the truth?” the middle-aged psychologist asked.
He froze when I looked at him. Who could blame him — with the Beretta pistol at my side and four men posted outside the clinic door, even though he was just doing his job, but I thought he believed he might lose his life at any wrong question. Any question felt dangerous.
It wasn't easy for me to come to a psychotherapist’s clinic, nor was it easy to reply to his question — to confess that I was afraid of losing
