Lucas ~*~ Mari sobbed quietly on my shoulder. She hasn't stopped shaking and her grip hasn't loosen. We sat like this on the now-stained furry carpet of her room. Me cradling her trembling body as she weakly hangs on. And her state made me realize that she really needed to go see someone, and soon before she really lost her mind. "I'm sorry, Mari," I soothed, rubbing her shoulders and I did my best to calm her racing heart. Great fucking job, De Marchi. I lifted her up, knowing that her position was making her uncomfortable. I set her on the bed and she immediately curled into a ball, her eyes heavy and staring into nothing as tears rolled down her face. I sat beside her and watched her shaking figure, tucking a lock of her beh

I woke up with a wicked headache. Sunlight graced the room from the open balcony widow. That's weird. I remembered clearly closing it before passing out. I ignored it, thankful for the air that let out the stench of spilled wine and sweat. I threw aside the duvet, sitting up from the edge of the bed and examining the white room. The wine bottle was still there but it was placed neatly on the table by the door, the used glass still on the complementary table and the gun still discarded on the floor. For a moment I stared at it, angry at why I was afraid of it. Then came the memories of Freddy. The pain that never seemed to end invaded my thoughts, the smell of blood and the words that Freddy was saying. I wondered what would've happened if Lucas had really shot me.Air blew the balcony curtain and the sunlight reflected o

I was ten years old when I realized that I needed to be a good actress in order for me to get what I want. I needed to cry real tears if I wanted my father to get me something that I wanted. I needed to pretend like I'm having a panic attack when I wanted to withdraw from school. The key to being a good actress is to always be a thousand steps ahead of everybody, and always be prepared in case anything would go the other way. That and always know how to fake the waterworks. Works like a charm.When my father was rushed to the hospital during my last night in Italy, I knew why. I knew what caused it. So when Lucas admitted that he, too, was slipping something in his drink, I got scared. He was tampering with my plans and if he was, and my father overcomes his coma, then he'll wake up knowing I did something. And I'll get more than a hole in my arm.Sitting acros

Gregorio Fabuccini had long gorgeous blonde hair that curls just below his shoulders. He had a looped-jabot scarf on his neck, a tight top and trousers that emphasized his fine behind. He looked like a mime I once saw in France. It scared the fuck out of me. He's the florist who Theresa hired for my wedding. He's French who speaks so little English we looked like aliens talking in the backyard garden.The day was perfect for my pink sundress with butterfly sleeves and a pair of nude slingbacks. Thankfully, the garden had a paved walkway that directed us to the fountain. Flowers bloomed everywhere and the grass was beautifully mowed. It seemed almost the perfect day to celebrate the wedding."I want white roses and lilies along the aisle with something navy," I said, fixing my

"God, no," I said as Lucas showed me a picture of a man who had grown a red beard, perhaps trying to hide his double chin, from his iPad. He looked almost like a criminal with the burn on his left temple running down his cheek, and the piercing on his lower lip. His face is smug, with bored charcoal eyes and a crooked nose. Lucas and I have been lying on my bed, me in my white cotton robe and him still in his white shirt, sipping my third and his fourth whiskey. A stick of cigarette hung between his lips, the butt a glowing orange. Suddenly my room smelled like the back alley of a cheap bar but I didn't tell him to get rid of it because we were comfortable like this; like messed up people with only alcohol and cigarettes to entertain us. And I've missed the scent of nicotine in the air. In fact, I wanted to grab a stick from the pack but I decided against it. No good will come out of that."His name is Ben