Chapter 7

Even the strong was weak.

After climbing a cramped old white wooden staircase, she led me through an old hallway decorated with yellowish patterned wallpaper.

She opened a cracked white door and turned on the small lamp. This lighted up the room filled with a small single bed with a mattress bordered on the left side by a bedside table.

- Sorry, it smells a bit musty, it's been a long time since anyone slept here, apologizes the little lady.

- No problem, it's so nice to host me!

She smiled at me and pulled out folded pajamas from the only wardrobe.

- There are some clothes in this closet. It belonged to my daughter, she said, putting the pajamas on the mattress.

When she bends down with difficulty I notice for the first time that this woman who, at first sight, seemed so strong to me is in reality weakened by age and by life.

- Rest

She rubbed my arm before leaving. This gesture reminds me so much of my mother. She and I were never very close and her only marks of tenderness were summed up in these arm rubs. But that was only with me.

My sister was her pride. With her eldest daughter she was truly a mother. Me, I always grew up in her shadow. No matter how hard I tried, she never noticed me.

I wasn't good enough compared to his first daughter.

I sighed at the memory. No matter how tough I was answering teachers and drinking alcohol on the sly, I had lacked maternal love.

I tried to appear strong, with a heart of stone so as not to show that this heart had been broken.

I drew the little yellow curtains, busying myself to avoid thinking about all those injuries, and put on my pajamas.

I slipped under the cold blanket and fell asleep in this unknown house, in this country which was not mine.

I woke up to the sun filtering through the thin yellow curtain. I got up and went down to the living room as I was used to. I had been staying with Inga and Donatello for a week. They had been so kind to me. welcoming me when I had nothing.

On the stairs I stopped by the loud voice of Inga. to draw two words.

My first name and mafia.

It didn't take me more to make the connection. These delinquents whom Donatello criticized yesterday were the mafia, they were the ones who were looking for me. In any case, it wouldn't have taken long for me to understand. Who on the other hand, a member of the mafia could thus possess girls and force them into prostitution?

I went back into the living room, when they saw me they ceased to argue.

- Oh my little Elisabeth, I hope you slept well, come over here, I prepared breakfast, she said leaving the living room to go to the dining room.

I had lunch with them in a good mood. I was really beginning to appreciate this family, which was still unknown to me a few days earlier.

When I had finished eating Inga showed me the bathroom and I washed.

When I stopped the water in the shower, I wrapped myself in a bath towel and went to the room where I had slept. In the wardrobe I took inventory of the few clothes that were stored there and managed to combine a outfit that I put on once the curtains were closed.

Once dressed, I fell into the closet on a notebook, certainly the diary of the famous girl, and hung above a pink ballpoint adorned with a pompom.

At the sight of the notebook I had finally found a plan to get Inga and Donatello out of this mafia affair which could harm them.

I seize the object.