I didn't have where to go when Luther dumped me on the steps of Emiliano's apartment.
I must have punched the door with my fists over and over again- nonstop until my bones crushed and after.
Nonetheless, it was for nothing. Luther didn't open the door and I don't blame him for it.
When Emiliano caught us, I did nothing but hide behind Luther from his wrath.
A coward. A wimp. A man who doesn't deserve a second chance.
So I got myself up, no shoes on my feet, no dignity left and went to the only person I could- Luther's father.
Well, not exactly.
I slept on it for a week, but couldn't find a better solution.
I had no expectations from him, no hopes of getting help. Fair to say, I was expecting to be thrown out and left to die when I showed up in front of his mansion.
The same villa I used to visit every day when I was young and harmless to Luther was now standing cold and unwelcoming.
