SOFIAI checked the address of the letter again, my eyes scanned the elegant handwriting that adorned the page. Although the handwriting was unfamiliar, in some ways it looked like something I was familiar with.Alex, sensing my intrigue, leaned over and asked, "What's in it?"I took a deep breath and read out the name of the person it was addressed to.A lot of people came to our house. Most especially dad's coworkers and his old friends. I clearly tried to relive those days, to remember the man who bears the name on the letter.My father was a lovely person, he would invite friends over and they would have late-night conversations over glasses of whiskey, laughter echoing through our home during festive gatherings, and the unwavering support they had provided each other throughout their professional endeavours.Alex's eyes gleamed with curiosity as he waited for me to share what I had discovered. With a sigh, I looked up at him and said, "It's a letter from my father to his business
SOFIA I stood still holding the paper in my hand, my body trembling with fear. It did not feel good. I had the sudden urge to throw up. I was here now and basically everything was real. I didn't have much of a choice to back out. It was overwhelming.I had just read the letter we found. It was written by my father alright, it had his tone to it. I held my tears in. My eyes were heavy and my chest felt compressed. I stepped away from the dust to a window nearby. My dear house. It'd been such a long time.I didn't know know why I never asked to come back here. Once Ronaldo would ask where we wanted to go for the holidays and I had always wanted to stay in. I dreamt of this place often but I guess I was too scared to admit the truth. I didn't want to come back here.I was scared of all the emotions that would resurface, scared that I'd deceived myself into believing I was over all the pain. This letter changed my perspective. I should embrace that I wasn't over it, instead of running aw
ALEXI read every bit of word into my system and it made no sense. I even collected the letter from Sofia to be sure she read out the right thing, and lo and behold, it was all right.Damn! This was so confusing.With the way Sofia painted the picture of her parents, I just couldn't understand. Their involvement with the mafia was something I couldn't wrap my head around. They seemed like such kind and gentle people, completely opposite to what I had always associated with the mafia.My mind raced with questions. How did Sofia's father get involved with the mafia? Was he forced into it? Did he willingly choose this path? And most importantly, why would the mafia target seemingly innocent people like him and his wife?Growing up as the son of a Mafia lord, I had witnessed firsthand ruthlessness and raw brutality that came with this word and the world that revolves around it. My father had always been strict about maintaining boundaries and punishing those who dared to trespass him. The
SOFIAEverything was going according to plan. I'd never been happier, working continuously towards achieving my long term goal and resetting a new one. It was an early morning and I was in bed scrolling through the internet for the newest gossip. Social media was a violent place, celebrities pretended to love one another, while their fans refused to settle for the bare minimum.There were too much unnecessary fights. And comparisons between two people of high calibre who should really just be appreciated and not thrown under the bus for their one or two mistakes. Nobody wanted to see it that way. There were ridiculous assumptions, a lot of lies and half truths.The irony of everything was it didn't matter. The celebrities still had their money and not many of the edited pictures, or rumours could take it from them. They could buy anything they felt like and there was always that one person, willing to stand in for them.I so much loved the lavish lifestyle. Although my parents weren't
SOFIAI couldn't run away forever…I had slept with different thoughts in my head. Now, I had a pounding headache. Lord! It was as if a tiny construction crew like those cartoons were hammering away inside my skull. I felt so weak to stand up.Groaning, I slowly sat up and rubbed my temples, hoping to alleviate the pain. The odd sensation lingered, refusing to fade away. This is what happens when you spend all day worrying and thinking about things that can't be changed.I sighed heavily, determined not to let the headache ruin my day, I pushed myself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. I needed a hot bath, because why not? I was feeling like a pregnant woman.The hot water cascaded down my body and it provided some relief, soothing my aching muscles.The water felt soothing against my skin, and for a brief moment, I could almost forget about the throbbing pain in my temples. As I stepped out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and caught a glimpse of my reflec
SOFIAI couldn't blame Olivia for being that way. When I went to the therapist, I was told about different ways people dealt with their grief. Bit Olivia's was so different. It was almost like she couldn't care less. At the burial, she didn't flinch. Although she was super mad, because I could see her eyes twitching.I didn't know whether to classify it as anger or fear. But she felt something. I pitied her often. Having to pretend her grief didn't exist and act normal even when she was not. A few months after that, she changed completely towards me. That is when I realized I had lost her along with my parents.She did everything to impress. And I did everything to express. We used to have things in common but we became full opposites of eachother. Slowly, hatred set in. Plots, pranks, bullying and distance was not a far option.She moved into another room. Without saying a word. She spoke to Ronaldo often. She'd sometimes check up on me and tease me sometimes. But it was too obvious.
SOFIAGosh!If I had a gun, I would have killed almost all the women working in my workplace. If it's not the angry stares, it's the hissing and the murmurs. Especially those that we work in the same office. It seemed all of them were under the evil wings of Lana and she was the one directing them on what to do.I literally made no friends with any of them. The men were worse than the women and I can't begin to replay what goes in and out of this office. So many atrocities and immoral activities. But then who was I? I was just an employee in need of a job. I wasn't desperate but I needed this job.The other day, I visited the ladies restroom and was about to leave when I heard the door open and two other women came in. I wasn't sure who they were, but no doubt, they were Lana's 'disciples'.I wanted to leave, but then when one of them started to giggle, I waited."You see that girl named Sophie…" One of the women was talking when the other woman caught her short."It's Sofia, with the
SOFIAThe voices from Lana's minions all around me were starting to get louder. I couldn't care any less, but the words cut through me like a knife. I was never the one to ignore what people said. It prickled my skin and made me sweat horribly. Especially if it were a lie.That was the main problem here. Everything the women said were blatant lies. Maybe I'd have been better off at a bar. Although the men would pick on me anyways, it was better than having to sit with cowards who could only talk. I hated words sometimes.I was bullied in high school and even if I knew the right way to stand up for myself, I was never able to. People called me a weakling and a bore head for letting my parents' death affect everything else that I did. They compared me everyday with my sister.It caused enmity between us, and it made me a low lifer. Burying myself in books and the few loser friends I had, I thought I was living the life. I convinced myself that it was true happiness but I was never reall