I just laid there. It had felt so real. But it wasn't. All of the facts pounded my head all at once. But one stuck out to me the most. Mother was dead.
It hurt me so badly, the way she had died. A group of men dumped her at our doorstep. Her throat cut and staining our courtyard. Father took the note that was left with the body. But I later snuck in his room and read it. The way the letter was written stung like a slap in the face. The note just said. "La vostra accoglienza." (Your welcome). I understood why father hated the note. The murderers thought the killing of my mother, was a mercy to us.
Another scream echoed up to my bedroom. I knew who it was, but I didn't know what was going on.
"Merda" I swore. I heard the sound of shattering glass. He had been drunk for a week solid. I felt like I was taking care of a child. My feet hit the floor and I sprinted down the stairs. Stopping at a shattered mirror. My eyes welled up with tears. Not a day before my mothers murder, she told me;
"Do not be ashamed for differences you may have. Instead, use them to your advantage."
Shaking me back to reality was my father's never ending yelling. I continued to the kitchen where broken glass covered the entire floor. Three or four bottles of wine must have been sacrificed for this mess. Looking for the source of the whimpering, I see my father with blood drippingoff of his palm. Where he had cut himself with the broken glass. I walk over to him, minding my step, and he lashes out.
"Get back, Marianna!" He backed up into a wall like a cowardly dog.
My stomach quivers when I hear that name. My god, he thinks that I am mother.
"Father, it's me, Serafina."
"Do not come any closer! There will be consequences!"
"Father, quit pretending, I know you have not lost your mind. Now let me..."
My words were cut short with the sound of another shattering bottle but I don't see where it had fallen. I feel a sensation in my left eye. Like, crying, but not as hot. I reach up to my eye to see what is wrong. And find that I have blood of my fingers. I was horrified. I didn't know what had happened so I ran to the mirror at the stairs. I dashed away from father. A man I once trusted. To see the extent of my injuries. Even thought the shattered mirror didn't give me a clear view. I had seen what had been done. One brown glass shard was sticking into my eye. The size of a florin. There was more blood on my face than there was freckles. I ran back into the kitchen to find my father just crying. Not worried about how he had attacked his only family.
"I pity you" were my last words as I ran out the door in a pain filled dazed.