I'm breathing way too fast and need to calm down. My first panic attack happened the first time I was thrown into the attic by the Solomons.
Over the years, I educated myself on mental health disorders, and psychology in general. I've self-diagnosed myself with PTSD, anxiety disorder, major depression, and very likely BPD—Borderline Personality Disorder. It's characterized by the utter fear of abandonment, as well as back and forth strong emotions. Love and hate in the same breath sometimes.
Pondering how I’ve felt my whole life, I take some time to feel sorry for myself. I never had a fucking chance to be normal. Constant abuse since the age of six will fuck up anyone. I need a break. Don't I deserve happiness, without threats?
Tears streak my face as I mourn the girl I was for so long. Broken and scared, yet a fierce fighter. So strong my mind would never break. Believe me, I tried. I begged for catatonia while in The Morgue.
But now, I’m Phoenyxx, the woman who is loved by many. I have family, best friends, and eight amazingly damaged, psychotic men that are all mine.
I marvel at the changes I’ve made. I’m stronger than I thought I could ever be.
Caterina Isabella Rossi, mafia heir. A woman not to fuck with. And Phoenyxx, the woman who will rip your head off in a blink.
I dry my tears with my sleeve, straightening my spine. It's so emotional to decide to let go of the past, but I must in order to move forward. I'll never forgive or forget. But I choose to not let it control me anymore.
I feel good with my decision to take control of the bank account, as well as positions in my parents' companies. It feels like the right thing to do.
I’m still not sure about taking the title of heir yet, though. I'm not ready. I need time to figure it out, and thankfully, my parents are fine with that.
Blowing out a breath, I leave the shooting range to head back to my room. I have a stack of paperwork to read through.
I stifle a yawn when a knock on the door pauses my reading.
“Come in,” I call.
Synn strides into the room with a twisted expression in his eyes. They're dark gray and stormy, which happens when he’s warring with his mind.
“Are you okay?” I ask with a frown.
“Yeah, just tired,” he evades.
Frowning harder, I tilt my head to stare at him. He's lying to me. Why?
“Synn—”
“Leave it, Pazessca. I just want to spend time with you.” He glances at the papers I’m holding in my hand. “What are those?”
I explain it to him, and he just nods and gives me no advice or opinions. Which is also weird for my normally vocal guy.
“How about we take those to the kitchen? It will be easier to read and sign everything with more space,” Synn says.
“Good point. Coming with?” I ask.
“Of course. Let's go.”
Synn leads the way, and I plonk down into a chair to continue reading.
The kitchen is busy, people wandering in and out. The sounds of chatter, laughter, and the clink of silverware against plates surround me. I drown it out to concentrate.
I'm taking forever to read this shit. There's so many things I don’t understand.
Synn pulls up a chair next to me. “Want me to take a look?”
“Please? I'm clueless,” I say gratefully.
I hand the papers over to him. “Why don’t you grab some coffee or something?” Synn suggests.
Good idea. I need caffeine for this. Turning to grab a mug, I doctor it up with sugar and creamer. I stand at the counter for a moment, savoring the steam coming from the warm cup.
