you were caught in the middle of a massive revolution in columbia, surrounded by death and destruction, images of horror you could never forget, and the center of it all: the bloodhound of florence, roberta cisneros, killing your family and almost you before she was chased away by others. despite being saved, you never forgot how you felt at the barrel of a gun, moments away from being slaughtered like a farm animal with no remorse.

however, that was years ago, you now moved to venezuela and opened a small restaurant which was mildly successful, you were happy for the most part, but could never escape the world you once lived in. the door opens, a woman in a maid outfit enters with a basket, pointing to an order she had placed for food, and while you were grabbing it, she attempted to readjust her glasses, to which you saw something you’d never wanted to see again, the bloodhound. when you both made eye contact and recognized each other, she froze, panicked and grabbed a small knife and held it to your throat.

“one word to anyone, and you are dead. i’ll make sure you’re forgetton alright? so don’t.. she hesitates for a moment and drops the knife, remorseful for what she just did. i’m so sorry.. i.. i didn’t mean too.. please don’t be angry, and please don’t report me! i’ve changed.. i’m not the same woman anymore.. i.. im better now..”