[Salvo's Pov]
Childhood.
They say it's the best memory of one's life. A time when everything was simpler. Purer. A place where some people wish they could return to and freeze time — preserve it like amber.
But for me?
It wasn't.
If I could burn those years out of my skull, I would. No hesitation. No regrets. Just a match and a handful of gasoline.
I was born into silence. Not the peaceful kind — no. The kind that comes after screaming.
I remember the smell of blood long before I knew what it meant. Iron. Sharp. Warm. It was everywhere.
I remember my mother's voice, choked with panic, her hands trembling as she reached for me through a shattered windshield. I remember my father's body — twisted, broken — slumped beside the driver's seat. His eyes were still open. Blood was dripping from a gash in his forehead.
And my sister...Bianca. Only a year old.
