Bab 4: Trauma
"Mamma!" Seven-year-old Alessia called out, racing toward her heavily pregnant mother who was serving a customer in their bustling family restaurant. Her mother, despite her bulging stomach, worked tirelessly to support their family.
Alessia dropped her heavy bag quickly and brought out plaques and medals one after the other. The session had just ended, and it was the prize-giving day. Her mother couldn't afford to close the shop for a whole day, and her father... she had only seen her dad in two states all her life: drunk or asleep.
The whole restaurant hooted and cheered for her. Alessia beamed with pride, clearly enjoying the attention. The adults stuffed Italian Lira bills into her hand, and she bowed to each one of them.
"Mom, can you tell Mr. Silas to stop taking me to the field? I want to be a banker!" she pouted.
"I thought you wanted to be an Olympics champion just last month."
"No, Lola says champions don't have enough money, and bankers, they work with money!"
"You working with money doesn't make you rich, my dear. What do you need money for?"
"I won't tell you," she said, putting back her awards into her bag. A tear rolled down her mother's cheek, fully aware of her reason for a career change. " Whatever you do, I'll support you, don't you worry" she sniffled.
"Go behind the counter; I kept some tortellini for you. Well done, Alessia," she gave her an approving smile.
Her mother's loving smile whirled before her, and she was thrown into the scene from that fateful night.
"Die, you bitch! Just die!" The room was swallowed in darkness, the only light coming from the moon through the window, casting eerie shadows of her parents' silhouettes. Her mother dangled in her father's tight grip, her neck constricted.
Little Alessia had seen many similar occasions, but this one gave her an overwhelming sense of dread. Her mother had always warned her to hide whenever it happened, because when her dad was furious, he knew no one. She had been flung from their room halfway down the hallway when she tried to intervene once.
Biting on her arm as tears rolled down her cheeks, where she sat beside the curtain-cloaked shelf...
Thump, thump.
"Alessia, Alessia!"
It was Matteo, Alessia's brother, knocking on her door.
She stumbled as her white duvet tried to hold her down while she got off the Anne-Marrie bed. Cleaning off her drool, she walked towards the door, loosening her bonnet to let her hair down before she unlocked the white door.
Matteo bent as he went through, then leaned on the wall with his lean, muscular physique. He was the epitome of Mediterranean beauty, even in school clothes. His blonde hair was darker than hers, wavy, often tousled in a way that looked both casual and refined. His sun-kissed olive skin and brown eyes conveyed both intensity and warmth, giving him a vibrant, healthy appearance.
"Had a nightmare?"
"Hmm, I did."
"It was weird that you slept in."
He walked towards her and put her hair behind her neck. They stared into each other's eyes.
" You said it wasn't often."
" I'm done with him, I couldn't leave because I had to sort some things."
"It'll end soon," she finally whispered.
She had typed her resignation letter weeks ago, updated her CV, and got a new house. Living in the house where her mother died had been hard on her, and no matter how much refurbishing was done, her heart could never see their living room the same.
"I've made breakfast; you can still catch up with the last bus."
"Thank you, Matteo," she said. It was going to be her last day at work. She had applied for a one-month leave for the first time in four years, but her boyfriend cut it down to two weeks because "there was a lot of work in the office."
Getting to the office, Alessia carried on with her work with more vigor than usual, ignoring the murmurs and stares.
Alessia was called in by Matteo.
There, she saw furious Marco pacing up and down in his office. The moment he laid his eyes on her, he bolted towards her, locking the door behind her before dragging her to the middle of the office. Her heels clanked loudly on the white marble tiles as he pressed the remote, closing all of the window blinds.
"You bitch! How dare you try to run away with my money?!"
"What money are you talking about? Let go of me!"
"You think I would never find out?" Marco sneered, flashing his phone against her face. The screen displayed the bank details with her name as the account holder.
"Don't you dare, Marco. That's mine!"
"Tell me how you got €10 million, you lowlife. Those 'mistakes' in the budget—you were always pocketing them, huh?"
"I made investments. I worked overtime here. I never got a leave. I wrote pitch speeches for people for their startups. That's my money, Marco."
"You conniving bitch. How dare you lie to me?" His hands flew to her neck, tightening around her throat.
Slowly, he lifted her, her feet leaving the ground. That night flashed before her eyes, and she was back in their humid, rundown living room. The coldness radiating from the wall she leaned on coursed through her body. She could hear the muffled, throaty sounds her mother made while she struggled.
She could taste her own blood in her mouth from biting her arm too long, and the acrid smell of alcohol filled her nostrils. In the present, she was turning blue in Marco's hands, but he didn't notice in his rage and the darkness. Sweat beads rolled down her face as she remained silent in his hands. Her heart rate slowed as her eyes closed as she slowly lost consciousness.
Her vision blurred, the last thing she felt was Marco's grip loosening, and the sound of the office door being slammed shut before everything went black.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
dvorah_o
dvorah_o Hi, I hope you're enjoying this. I've been trying to find a way to interact with you as my reader, I'm very conscious about this because I want to treat you well.
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