Of course, they don't. The white and red striped two-piece monstrosity cuts into the skin at my hip, and the buttons only barely manage to close. With an exasperated groan, I accept my fate. It could be worse.
The morning flies by, flurries of mimosas and gifts and me trying over and over again to clue Fritz in as to why Isla's safety is so vital.
The first and only daughter in her family. So not only will she be tracked down and used to bloodlet for their weaponry, but she'll also be a glorified broodmare. Heat fills my skin, and red clouds my vision when I think of someone filling her stomach with child.
Fritz doesn't fucking get it. And I'm going to have to spell it out for him. How he's made it this long is a mystery to me. Maybe there's something to be said about just hiding out and drinking and fucking your years away. It seems to have worked for him up until now. He's flown under the Sanctum's radar for centuries, only to emerge suddenly and scheme to break out his girl from their clutches.
Interrupting my plans to tell him why Isla needs to be protected, he makes the dumbest mistake he's made thus far. Even considering breaking back into the Sanctus Sculitis is a suicide mission, and I tell him as such.Again.
My teeth grit as I issue what I hope will be my last warning. "If you even think about involving Isla in your group suicide, I'll make you wish the Sanctum got to you before I did. Do I make myself clear?"
The demon looks like he might just piss himself with fear, so I hope I got the message across. Leaving the final gift I have for her with him, I make myself scarce.
I already know him and the other two are going to think my concern is because I care for Isla. Let them believe it, I don't fucking care. At the end of the day, that's more likely to keep them in line than the truth. If Fritz wants to think I have feelings for Isla and I'm as much of a weakling for pussy as he is, then hopefully, he'll listen.
Isla needs to be safe from them because the world needs to be safe from them.
End of fucking story.
A Hell of a Kiss
Isla
I'm so fucking selfish.
So god damn fucking selfish.
My best friends in the whole world have all found the happiness they've been searching for.
Bel has not one but two men who would burn this world down for her.
Charlie and Mike are having ababy,for Christ's sake.
While every ounce of my being wants to be happy for them, a voice in the back of my head screams that I don't get to have those things. I don't get or deserve happiness. I haven't found my person and my future because I'm not worthy. I'm just a broken person who left my purpose behind.
That's what my parents would say. I left behind the reason I was put on this earth, and because of that, I'll never find joy. Love. Because I fled from the future chosen for me, a virginal white wedding with someonesuitable, now I'm cursed to walk this earth until I die alone.
If you were living the way God wanted, you wouldn't be unhappy.
I can see the light inside of you has dimmed. You might think you're happy, but true joy can only be found living within the path.
Mother's voice radiates throughout my skull, the only coherent thing when the room around me spins, and I clutch onto the desk before me. Whether I'm happy or sad, up or down, her deceptively gentle voice whispers in my ear in the dark of night that I'm wrong.
Bel and her boys went to bed hours ago, but I just can't. The only time the world spins faster than when my eyes are open is when they're closed. I knew I should have stopped drinking hours ago, but I just couldn't.
Feeling fucking sorry for myself. Again. Instead of being happy for my favorite people in the whole world. Not only am I ruining my own night, but I'm liable to ruin theirs, too.
The tears haven't stopped flowing since I collapsed on the floor of this room.My room.Bel's men are so devoted to her, so god fucking damn obsessed with her, that they built me my own room in their home, dedicated space just for me. And I'm going to ruin it by thinking about myself.
Between dinner last night, and presents today, I gave every ounce I had to feign happiness for them.
And Iamhappy for them all. If I had to choose between their happiness and my own, I would choose theirs every single time. But in the quiet of the night, when no one else has to bear witness, I can fall apart and be sad for me.
I'll never have those things. A family. Someone who would pick me out of every living soul in the world. I'm not worthy of someone who could devote themselves to me that way.
I've tried. Jesusfuck, howI've tried. Men. Women. Everything in between. I've loved them all. They've just never loved me back. Because the problem is never them. It's always me. I'm toomuch. Too messy, too needy, not needy enough, too uptight, too wild, too loud, too tame. Everything I am is always wrong.
Every mask I've worn to win someone's love slips eventually, and they see the truth underneath. I'm nothing. No one.
