SERGIO VENDITTO
THE ATTACK
I lay on a hospital bed, feeling my body burn and corrode. Everything was painful, every nerve, every cell… it f*****g hurt. I felt like death himself was calling to me saying to let go but I resisted. I couldn’t.
I cried. Not because of the pain I felt physically. Never because of the pain but because I saw everything happen. It was all too fast. Papa and I had just finished work. We were coming home early because papa insisted he had to be home early for Sienna.
They were going to reconcile after their fight which I was happy about. I hate it when they fight. They might not fight often but when they do, it was the worst.
It was me who called for our car to pull up, ready to let the two finally come to terms with the fact that they were both being silly.
