Chapter Text
The first thing Ciambella Cameo learned about this world was that nothing ever went the way one wished it would.
People lied. People killed. People betrayed one another. For what reason? Ciambella didn’t understand it. She couldn’t - and perhaps, more importantly, didn’t want to.
But there was one thing she understood even less.
Why was everyone staring at her?
Why were the nurses whispering among themselves?
And more importantly, why had her father suddenly gone pale?
It was too much for her twelve-year-old mind to comprehend.
She had no idea that her life would drastically change because of one small slip up - one that may or may not have been intentional.
Ten minutes earlier everything had been perfect.
Well… mostly perfect.
When Ciambella was eleven, her mother suddenly collapsed. It was a brain eating tumor, a very bad and evil one - as the nurses had explained it to her - and there was no cure for it. Not yet.
Her father, whom she would always remember as carefree and composed, broke down and sobbed.
He sobbed.
And sobbed.
And sobbed.
He wouldn’t stop.
Ciambella didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She didn’t understand why her father was crying like that. She didn’t understand why the adults around her suddenly looked so frightened. Or why they would stare at her with so much pity.
“Poor child, someone as young as her shouldn’t be experiencing this.”
A sentence she’d constantly hear.
Why was she punished this way?
Her mother, the woman who would always comb trough her long, beautifully silky ginger hair, read her bedtime stories, dress her up like a doll and, more importantly, bombard her with love and affection, was now bound to a bed.
It was a relief when her mother was eventually allowed to return home, where she could be cared for in her own bedroom.
It wasn’t the same. But she was home. And to Ciambella, that was enough.
Half a year later, when Ciambella was twelve, her mother had reached her limit. She was constantly in pain and heavily medicated. Talking became an exercise for her, one that exhausted her.
Yet, Ciambella still wonders how she was able to say those particular words as her last sentence.