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Matteo leaned in and planted a tender kiss on the crown of my head before rising to leave.
“I have something important to attend to, and won’t return until late at night. If you need anything, ask Antonio.”
I heard the door close behind me, and I sighed. I flopped onto my bed, burying my head in the pillow's softness.
In that quiet solitude, memories of my parents came rushing back like an old film reel playing in my mind.
I remembered how they used to take me to the park on weekends, pushing me on the swings with laughter echoing around us.
My mother's eyes would sparkle with mischief as she chased me around the playground, her laughter contagious.
Then, it was my father's turn to carry me on his shoulders, making me feel on top of the world.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, we'd gather around the dining table, our favorite home-cooked meal filling the air with mouthwatering aromas.
The lively conversations, the shared jokes, the feeling of togetherness - those moments were etched deep into my heart.
Bedtime was a magical affair. My mother would sit on the edge of my bed, her soft voice weaving tales of princesses and dragons, heroes and adventures.
Her words transported me to far-off lands where anything was possible. My father would come in next, tucking me in with a smile, ensuring I felt safe and loved.
And then there were the bike rides. My father's strong, reassuring presence as he taught me to ride for the first time.
His hands steady on my back, guiding me until I could pedal. The wind in my hair and the exhilaration of freedom were pure joy.
As I lay there, lost in the warmth of my memories, I drifted to a time when I was older, on the cusp of adulthood.
My parents had always been my biggest cheerleaders. They attended every school play and every parent-teacher meeting and celebrated each of my achievements, no matter how small.
I could still hear their applause and see the pride in their eyes as I stood on the stage, receiving my high school diploma.
The summer before I left for college was a time I cherished. We spent lazy afternoons at the beach, building sandcastles and collecting seashells.
They had driven me to my university, my father's strong arms loading my belongings into the car and my mother's tearful smile masking her worry.
They reassured me that this was the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one they believed I would conquer.
Late-night phone calls and care packages kept us connected, and their words of wisdom guided me through the challenges of adulthood.
My parents had always encouraged me to follow my dreams to reach for the stars, and they believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself.
I blinked away tears as I remembered the last time I saw them, the day before their tragic accident.
We had shared a family dinner, laughing and talking about my college plans and the adventures ahead.
They hugged me tightly that night, whispering their love and hopes for my future.
I was almost drifting into a peaceful slumber, carried away by the comforting memories of my parents.
It had been a long day, emotionally exhausting, and my body craved sleep. My eyelids drooped, and I let myself surrender to the embrace of rest.
But sleep was like a wisp of smoke slipping through my fingers. It was as if my mind was on high alert, sensitive to the slightest disturbance, and that disturbance came with a jolt, ripping me from the edge of sleep.
Outside my room, the world had transformed into chaos. The night, once serene, now echoed with shouts, urgent and agitated.
Gunshots punctuated the air, each a sharp reminder that peace was fleeting.
My heart raced, anxiety and fear coursing through my veins like an electric current. What the fuck was going on?!
