VINCENZOI came down to the chair and placed my text on the table. Staring back at me was the worst of the worst: Economics of Money, Banking and Financial Markets. Some days—like now—I wondered why I'd settled for a major in Finance. There wasn't any reason other than my parents' approval. Quite an irony, considering that I disagreed with them on everything. It turned out that I'd been a lost sheep. I hadn't a clear vision of what I wanted to do. So, rather than giving Madre more reasons to doubt me, I settled for what had been on the table. I finally got a choice a month after first year, but couldn't imagine deferring my admission to start all over. Instead, I'd endure this hell of a major and wait till after graduation. Again, I looked to be at an advantage, as my degree in Finance would come in handy when I started Law school.Exams were in full swing now. Started of last Thursday, and I haven't had any breathing space ever since. My department was notorious for being on the f
RINA"Alright, time's up.”"Sh—" I jammed my mouth, blocking the rest of the cuss from spilling. I couldn't believe I'd almost said that out loud. Murmurs broke out, giving me a sense of hope: I wasn't the only one yet to finish."Your papers now," the professor came again. His tone much sterner. I set my fingers in motion and hurried through the question. The very last. Occasionally, I'd glance at the balding man to know if he'd left the theater like he threatened. Luckily, I made it to the end before he decided to follow through with his threat. Joining the line to make a submission, I caught people’s chatter about how easy the paper was. Easy but bulky. That was Storia Dell’arte Contemporanea for ya. A lot of my course mates wore a look of satisfaction, coupled with those that talked about the answers. All in all, everyone was confident in their ability. Everyone minus me. I agreed with the part about the questions being easy, but the problem laid with my approach in answering
RinaThe worst decision I'd made, apart from accepting to follow Mammà to the pack house, was to give Sophia my number. It'd been calls after calls after calls. Everywhere, every freaking time. Right now was no different. It was still the same old stuff. The tickets, party preparations and Piccolo Maestro. Nothing annoyed me as much as her fixation on Piccolo Maestro did. She wanted to know everything about him. What he was doing and what clothes he had on. What he had for lunch and whether the o'clock shadow appeared? His routine, his this, his that. Would I be rude if I said Sophia behaved like him?" It was pure…what's the word? Pure obsession. I sighed as the phone rang again. Drying my palms on my blouse, I reached for it. Her voice shot through before I could speak, "Do you think you're being fair? You think I don't have anything better to do than waste my time and battery calling you?""I'm sorry.""The hell you are! You always say that. What's going on? Am I a disturbance
Unknown pov- I threw my backpack into the backseat before engaging the muscles of my arm into yet another wrestling contest with the door to the driver side. "Come on now."I gave one more tug before the door came open. Climbing inside, I slammed the door shut. It wouldn't come close. I tried again, harder this time, and then collapsed against my chair as exhaustion fell on me. On a normal day, I'd have found this funny. But my mood had been so badly ruined that I found nothing amusing anymore. It seemed like this part of town was intertwined with stinginess and greed. Imagine paying £ 55 per day for a piece of crap. And I wasn't even sure this thing would carry me to the villa.A young man walked across, dragging a full garbage bag to a dumpster. The name on his uniform painted a grimace on my face.CLC: Casa Lontano da Casa. [Home away from home]What a fancy name for a shithole inn. This place had done to me something that Karma hadn't done to anyone before. Where the fuck do I
VINCENZOThe pack house pulsed with two distinct sounds. The upbeat music shooting from the living room, and my grunts. A bitch had her butt clasped on my dick; my head was thrown back as spams upon spasms of pleasure coursed through me. This was the first I was getting laid since the semester ended. And it had only been yesterday that I realised how sex starved I was. Coughing out a groan, I freed myself from her and started getting dressed. I didn't give a second look before leaving and returning to the partying room. All signs pointed at the fact that my parents were away. Colours—red, blue and green—shot from the disco ball, painting up the room. People were chattering, laughing, grinding and generally, living their lives. Given how loud the music was, my chest drummed. I was a happy-go-lucky guy which explained why I threw a party to mark the end of a semester. There was no sense in being a workaholic. I sat with Michele and Luigi, my arms spread wide on the head of the couch.
RINA"Next up. Rina." Mia looked up from the sheet of paper and sneered. Unenthusiastically, she read out my day's work. "Will be taking the garden, collecting the garbage and doing dishes."That said, I returned to what I'd been doing since I came to the assembly ground. Wandering mentally. We had three days till the end of the year, and as such, were preparing for the Festival of the Sun—my favorite holiday until lately. To prove how wrecked I was, Mammà and I would be visiting some relatives in Bologna; but I was anything but excited. It seemed like my mood would never be revived. Not even by the prospect of babysitting Uncle Enrico's cute daughter. . Everyone dispersed, going to their respective posts. Fortunately for me, it was airy outside. The sun was perfectly tucked under the clouds, and a cool breeze brushed across. I'd have been a sweltering mess if that hadn't been the case. I worked through the afternoon and had lunch with Mammà. It wasn't the usual kind as we barely
RINARina, take a deep breath. Breath in; breath out. There's nothing you can do. I had tears in my eyes and an emotion that was similar to the one I got when Papà died. Denial, that was what it was. Not wanting to believe a fact was a fact. Wishing so damn badly that the hands of time slid backwards to afford me the opportunity to right the wrong of the present. It laid on the ironing board, staring at me. The blackened spot around the breast pocket of Liliana's jumpsuit. The time she'd given me had long passed; I wasn't ready to leave the laundry room. I didn't think I could. What's the worse that can happen? An unknown voice rang in my mind. Yes, what was the worst? I didn't have a strong threshold for pain, and I probably would spend the night crying, but wasn't that where the torture would end? My hands came to my face, wiping off tears. A dry chuckle left my lips. Good riddance I hadn't been excited for the Festival of the Sun. Good riddance I hadn't imagined how much of a g
RINAA turn sent the shower wailing. I stood still —my eyes closed—as warm water rained on me. It was so for the next minute or two: me, not moving with just the rush of the water as the only sound here. I couldn't bring myself to make a move. To pick up my sponge and start bathing. I didn't see myself leaving the shower anytime soon. Or leaving it at all. The water was just too sweet to let go of. It was like an addictive drug. What made me reach for my sponge was the mere fact that this wasn't my house. And that I couldn't even afford such luxury to begin with.I scrubbed my body. The smooth sponge, suddenly becoming sandpaper due to how much force I used. I knew, though, that no matter how much I scrubbed, no matter the fact bruises might surface, I would never totally wipe out Piccolo Maestro's touch. I'd been doing that since everything started, and this morning he came close to me, I'd washed up..Still.Wherever I was, his presence hovered around. I couldn’t make something as