I walked toward her, my whole body wanting her, every part of me aching for her. But I knew if I gave in now, I would lose control. I would hand it to her. And I couldn’t let that happen.
When you give your control to someone, they own you. You become theirs. I didn’t want her to own me. I wanted to own her instead. To take her completely while she still believed I didn’t give a damn.
It was a game I played. A game I always won. No one ever really knew how I felt, and she wouldn’t be the first to find out. That’s what I do. That’s who I am.
Call me a bully. Call me a liar. Call me whatever the hell you want. But if your heart had been broken as many times as mine, you would stop asking for love, too. You would start taking what’s left of it.
Love is just a game until someone cracks. The one who wins isn’t the one who loves harder. It’s the one who knows when to stop.
XI. DOLL
Howcouldyouwantsomeone who treats you so poorly? How can you want someone who doesn’t want you back? What kind of sickness is that? It isn’t love. Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. This is torture. This is wanting what hurts you most. This isn’t lust. This is wrong. Wrong in ways I can’t even name. But I have never wanted anyone more. My body begs for his touch like it’s starving for something it shouldn’t need.
I love Rio. I always will. I promised that even in ten years, I would still love him. And I meant it. But this?
He’s gone. I know he’s gone. I know he died so I could live. But living feels like betrayal. Trying to love someone else feels like I’m the one who killed him. And it hurts. It hurts in places I didn’t even know existed.
When I was with Tristan, it wasn’t like this. Maybe because I only gave him what I could. My body. My time. Never my heart. That stayed with Rio. But now, my body, my mind, my heart, they all want someone who doesn’t even care if I break. Someone who treats me like I belong to him when I don’t belong anywhere.
And the worst part? I might like it. I might like being wanted, even if it’s cruel. I might like belonging to someone, even if it destroys me. Maybe I am that broken. Maybe I was never enough for myself to begin with.
When you’re little, you believe in love. You believe infairytales and happy endings. You believe that when you fall, someone will catch you. That love will save you. That it will be soft and perfect. But when you grow up, you realize fairy tales lie. Love doesn’t save you. Life doesn’t wait for you to heal. And even if you find something good, you live in fear that it’ll be ripped away. That fear eats you alive until there’s nothing left but the pain of losing something you never even got to keep.
And me? I’m still that stupid little girl who believes. Who dreams of falling in love at first sight. Who hopes someone will see her and just know. I felt it when I looked at him. My stomach twisted, my heart begged, my mind screamed. He could be it. He could be the one to ruin me completely.
I saw all the red flags. Every single one. But I wanted to fix them. I wanted him to turn green for me, to stay red for everyone else. I wanted to be the reason he changed. I wanted to believe I was worth that.
He moved closer, his eyes locked on mine. He untied my legs first, then my hands. My pride fell somewhere between us. When he helped me down, I leaned into him without meaning to. My body forgot how to stay away. His eyes met mine, but there was something inside them that made me forget to breathe. Something that felt like a second chance.
Maybe.
My feet touched the ground, but my heart didn’t. I lifted my hand to his chest. I kissed him, closing my eyes, praying for something that wasn’t real.
But he didn’t kiss me back.
He laughed.
A tear slid down my cheek.
He didn’t wantthis.
He didn’t wantme.
He didn’tfeel it.
He just wanted to own a doll, but he didn’t want a doll with a soul.
He started to laugh, staring straight at me.
“Look at you,” he said. He stepped closer, grabbed my jaw, and shoved me back against the wooden wheel. “You’re embarrassing,” he spat.
Another tear slipped down my cheek. “I…” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry? Me? Why am I apologizing? I didn’t do anything wrong.
Yet that familiar urge crawled up inside me, the one that makes me beg for forgiveness even when I’m the one bleeding.
The bearded lady entered, her expression tense.“Take her away,” he ordered. “Basement.”
