Prologue
At Fifteen
Seattle – Washington
Past
An eternal night and the sound of gunfire.
There’s no light. I can’t see anything.
The nightmare is always the same, even though it’s just darkness, blurs, and pain.
The older I get, the more frequent it becomes, to the point where I pray for a single night of uninterrupted sleep.
I sigh, mustering the courage to get up.
I could stay in bed a little longer today, since soccer practice at school was canceled. I don’t even know why I still go—soon enough, we’ll probably move again.
I hear my mother singing as she prepares my breakfast.
She’s not usually happy, especially whenhe’shome, but she seems to love mornings. All of them. I don’t remember waking up even once to find her sad at dawn. And God knows she’d have plenty of reasons to be.
But her mood shifts as the day goes on, as if reality gradually reminds her that her life isn’t the fairytale she once told me she dreamed of at my age.
I stare at the ceiling of my room. It’s a pretty nice room for a family with no steady income.
Actually, do we even have any income? I have no idea. I just see the money coming in with no explanation for the lifestyle we lead.
It’s not the first time I’ve wondered about it.
Are we rich? Why do we move so much?
I have way more questions than answers.
When I was younger, it didn’t seem so bad. It felt like some kind of adventure where, at any moment, we might wake up in a whole new place in the blink of an eye.
My mother didn’t seem to mind either. She always said that what really mattered was ifIwas happy.
If there’s one thing I know for sure in this world, it’s how much she loves me.
Just like I expected, five minutes later, she knocks on the door and brings a tray with all my favorite breakfast foods.
“Mom, you didn’t have to. I’m too old for breakfast in bed.”
“You’re never too old to be loved.”
I smile, even if I don’t feel like it.
She’s a good woman. Devoted to me and to that miserable man she’s still married to.
My father.
The man I’m supposed to love and respect, but I can’t do either.
I hate him for the way he treats her.
“No practice today?”