What the fuck is wrong with me?! Why did I attack Roman in such a cruel, cold way?
All he wants to do is love me. That’s all I've ever wanted, from dad, from Liam… from my fucking mom, yet when Roman tries, all I can seem to do is fuck it up.
‘Because you’re a fuck-up. That’s all you ever were, and that’s all you’ll ever be.’
No.
“No! You don’t get to come out now! You don’t get to fucking speaknow!” I shriek, kicking out at the coffee table, sending mom’s ceramic vases and framed pictures scattering on the ground. The carpet prevents anything from breaking, but oh how I wish they did.
Reality hits me too fucking long after Roman walked through that door, but I’m the fucking idiot for letting him walk away in the first place.
Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I spring up from the floor, further startling Shadow from my side as I race to the front door. Piercing winds stab into my damp skin as I hop down the concrete steps. I see the car is gone, but his absence doesn’t register in my mind until I run to the stop sign at the end of the block.
Roman and I have fought, but he’s never gotten past this point before. He never leaves… not really.
My hands rip at my hair as I cast my vision up and down the street, anxiety and paranoia splitting through me because I’m so fucking stupid and pushed Roman too far.
I said some inexcusable things, and now he’s gone. He’ll fuck someone else because I drove him to do it.
He’ll leave for good because now he realizes he deserves so much more than what I can offer.
‘It would have never worked out, baby girl. You were never his. You could never be. You belong to me, Mira, in life and fucking death.’
“Stop!” I shout, hands clawing at my throat until I feel streaks of fire run over my skin.
Why can’t I breathe?
Taking off as fast as I can, my bare feet slap on the cracked pavement as I run through the empty streets.
I cry out as my ankle twists at an unnatural angle, but I don’t fucking care enough to stop. I welcome the pain, inviting the burning numbness that spreads up my leg and down my foot. Only when I see the haunting apparition of my father standing before me do I lurch to a stop. Plummeting down to my knees, the concrete shreds holes in my sweats, scraping up my skin in the process.
Pebbles dig into my palms as I scurry back on my hands and feet, trying to get away before he can catch me because I know the second he gets his hands on me, he’s never letting me go.
‘Come here, baby girl. Let daddy love you.’
“I don’t want your love.”I won’t survive it.
I force myself back on my feet and run home, whimpering the entire way. By the time I get back to the front door, blood is filling my mouth, and my ankle is the size of a football.
Sheer will is the only thing that keeps me going, and only once I’m safely hidden behind my closed door do I allow myself to weaken and stumble to my knees.
The static in my head rises in volume, making it extremely difficult to hear and understand my confusing thoughts. My eyes travel the empty home, lingering on the turned-over coffee table I kicked.
Reaching over, I grab a figurine that rolled from the center of the room toward the door and toss it in my hands. With another cry, I throw it as hard as I can and stare as it collides with the wall, shattering in itty bitty pieces over the sofa.
The crash helps the static fade, but my thoughts only feel more jumbled. My brain and heart war for dominance, creating a nasty, sticky web inside my mind as I try to sort out my feelings.
How did we get here? When did things become so fucked up?
All I wanted was for Roman to come home so I could share with him what I read about my mother. About his father. So many questions we had were answered, and it didn’t make things easier, but at least I understood how my mom and Mr. Marcello came to be!
Understanding doesn’t change anything, but it was something… I just wanted Roman to know…
I didn’t expect us to explode at each other.
I didn’t expect him to come home the way he did, hands pawing at me, lips biting at my skin until I could feel my vessels popping underneath his tongue.
A large part of me expected him to turn into dad and start punching and kicking me while spewing vile venomous words my way in order to get into my pants.
