VIOLETA
I am pacing up and down Fiorella’s bedroom, trying to call either her or Gabriele so that I can find out if they are okay or not, but none of them are answering my calls.
I feel horrible because whether I try to deny it or not, I am responsible for the pains she experienced. I did not mean for things to turn out like this; I swear I was going to make a plan to get Carlos out of here; I just didn’t know where to take him, and I did not know that Fiorella would unexpectedly show up.
What am I even saying? This is her house, and she can pop up anytime that she wants.
I have disappointed her once again, and she will never forgive me.
“I am sorry, Violeta,” Carlos says, still in the wheelchair.
I turn to look at him, murderously, and prance towards him.
“Why did you surviv
