I Don’t Know How to Write

Anna stepped down from the carriage with some difficulty, her feet touching the cobblestone ground in front of the imposing Aurelio Hall. 

As soon as she set foot on solid ground, her eyes widened in amazement. 

The enormous golden doors, the windows illuminated from within, and the emblems carved into the stone gave the place an almost majestic aura. 

Everything was excessively elegant, and Anna, in her uncomfortable dress, felt out of place. 

Damian, beside her, seemed unaffected by the grandeur of the site. He walked with a slight expression of annoyance, as if all this was nothing more than a routine for him. 

Anna, on the other hand, felt that each step took her deeper into a world she didn't understand and that intimidated her.

"Come on," Damian said curtly, without even looking at her as he walked towards the entrance. 

Anna quickly followed, glancing at the people passing by. 

Men and women in finely tailored suits and dresses, jewelry sparkling under the warm lights, and an air of confidence on their faces. 

It seemed that everyone there knew exactly where they were and what they were doing. Except for her.

When they reached the reception, a middle-aged man dressed in a pristine black suit greeted them with a nod. 

Damian barely returned the gesture and indicated to the man that they were there to register Anna. 

"We need the girl to fill out a registration form," the man said in a formal tone, handing a paper to Damian along with a pen. 

Damian, with a swift gesture, handed the form to Anna. 

"Fill it out quickly," he ordered coldly. 

Anna looked at the paper, her hands trembling slightly. 

The letters and blank spaces seemed like an indecipherable mess to her. She bit her lower lip, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. 

"I… I don't know how to write," she whispered, embarrassed, staring at the floor. 

She knew that wasn't something she should have admitted in front of so many elegant people.

Damian clicked his tongue, visibly irritated. 

"You're an idiot," he muttered, snatching the paper from her hands. "Tell me your name and age." 

"Anna… I'm eleven years old," she replied softly. 

Damian quickly filled out the rest of the form, and when he got to the signature part, he made an improvised scribble. He showed it to Anna with a brusque gesture. 

"This will be your signature. Learn it." 

Anna looked at the strange scribble, trying to memorize it. She nodded silently, though she wasn't sure she could reproduce it if ever asked.

After handing the document back to the man at the reception, Damian pushed her lightly into the hall. 

"Let's go, we don't have all day." 

As they passed through the doors, the bustle of the place hit Anna hard. 

The hall was packed with people. Men and women of all ages were chatting, laughing, and gambling. 

Tables were spread out across the room, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting a soft yet bright light. 

The air was filled with tension and excitement, mixed with the sound of chips and cards moving from table to table.

Damian left her for a moment to get some chips, and Anna was left alone in the middle of the crowd. 

She felt small and disoriented, as if the walls of the place were closing in on her. 

Around her, people moved and spoke with such confidence, while she barely knew where to look. 

She felt the weight of some curious stares on her, and although they lasted only a second, they were enough to make her feel that she didn't belong there. 

Her breathing quickened, and for a moment, she thought she was suffocating.

Finally, Damian returned with a handful of chips in his hands, and without paying attention to her obvious discomfort, he led her to a table where a group of players had gathered. 

"Don't even think about losing," Damian warned her in a low voice, pushing her lightly towards the table. 

His tone left no room for argument.

Anna swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly. In front of her, she saw the other players, young and old alike, all focused on the game. 

Some of the children seemed to be her age, but most were adults, men in elegant suits who exchanged calculating glances and whispered conversations. 

Suddenly, one of the players, a girl perhaps fourteen years old, dropped the cards she was holding and covered her face, starting to sob. 

The man dealing the cards coldly announced that she had lost and invited her to leave.

Anna looked around, more nervous than ever. 

There was no time to hesitate. 

The card dealer announced that a new game would start, and Damian pushed her again, this time more firmly. 

"Go," he whispered.

With her heart racing, Anna walked towards the table and sat in an empty chair. 

Some people glanced at her briefly, curious to see such a young girl participating in such a serious game, but most ignored her, too engrossed in their own business. 

The cards were dealt one by one, sliding across the table with a dry sound. 

Anna took hers with trembling hands, breathing deeply to try to calm herself. 

'I guess I'll have to play…,' Anna thought nervously.