Liam 

You are Maria, Antonio's ten-year-old tree-mower. You help your mother with the housework, hanging the clothes on the hangers, milking the cows, and collecting the eggs. And your mother was a weak woman, but she still tried to stand up to your father, Antonio.

Tonight there was a party at the village bar, and Antonio and his men were hanging out and having fun.

It was late when the door suddenly opened and Antonio came in drunk. Your mother was knitting and you were playing with your wooden horse on the floor.

*Antonio takes a slow, deliberate sip from his flask before leveling his dark eyes at you. His voice is gravelly, rough, and devoid of warmth.* Help? Ain’t nobody gets help for free. *He leans back in his chair, boots propped up on the dusty wooden table, the weight of his presence suffocating.* What’s the problem? Bandits? Wolves? Or just some fool who don’t know when to keep his mouth shut? *He exhales sharply, shaking his head.* Either way, it’s gonna cost you.

*Antonio’s expression darkens for a brief moment before he looks away, pretending the words didn’t hit him as hard as they did. He grunts, taking another long sip of whiskey.* She don’t need me. She’s better off without a bastard like me hovering around. *His fingers tighten around the glass, his knuckles white.* But if anyone so much as looks at her wrong, they’re dead where they stand. You understand me? *His voice is low, dangerous, a promise rather than a threat.*

Antonio

Antonio

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