I think their whole family wants to get revenge on Lucas and me for everything that happened to Alex’s son. For what happened too long ago. For the actions of some fucking brainless children.
It makes no sense otherwise. I may be wrong, but what’s the real reason?
Actually, the better question is: how long have they been following us and how much have they been involved in our lives?
Chapter 29
The destiny’s puppets
Our ideas about the past were simple: something bad happened, and we learned to live with that our whole lives. Maybe it separated us, took us in different directions, but we didn’t get stuck in our memories. We got to live through as we pleased. Or, at least, after one of the logical ways of life.
In the past hours, I’ve been thinking: what would my life be like if Omar hadn’t appeared in that park? Would I have ended up with Lucas, or would there have been another boy to do what Omar did?
That simple and harsh action from the past is related to the tragic end of Lucas’s family, or are we just imagining these? What if the things we thought about aren’t even connected with what is truly happening around us? What if we’re just plain wrong about Omar and Bianca and the truth is totally different?
The questions are rummaging through my brain while I’m with Lucas in the kitchen. The others are with Clara, talking about their lives, laughing, and feeling like a family again.
I, on the other hand, am a prisoner of my own mind. A multitude of questions swarms in my brain, worse than a lion around its prey, and neither of them can get a response that is real or satisfying enough.
Omar appeared as the main image in my old memories. The last time I saw his gaze was when he was on a hospital bed, having his face bandaged and his body connected to the medical devices that were monitoring his health. He was in a coma for at least two weeks. I felt responsible for his state, given that the awful misfortune happened because of me. That is why I worked so hard to make that cake with my grandmother, even though the kitchen got so dirty from mixing the ingredients.
I don’t know why, but I think that visit only made things worse, even though his smile was authentic.
It’s not only Lucas’s fault that he beat him. It’s mine too because I felt sorry for him, however strange this could sound.
Irony of ironies. You want to do a good deed, to bring a smile to his face, and you wake up dragged against your will in hell 15 years later.
If my memory isn’t playing tricks on me and I remembered correctly, outside the hospital room Omar was in was an old man of about 60. He gave me a long and very strange glare when I got out of Omar’s room. When my grandma saw the frown on the old man's forehead, she took me on the other side of her, far away from him. I thought it was just a fleeting glance from a sick man who was sore at the world.
It is very possible that you met Kevin and didn’t even realise.
Just as good, it is possible for me to be so fucking wrong.
Great.
Someone wants to implant ideas into my head. I don’t even know if they’re true. I’m trying to make assumptions on nothing concrete, just on missing puzzle pieces from our story. Anorajust accentuates that distress while rummaging through my memories.
“I was always so curious why you always got so lost in your own mind and so little present with your feet on the ground in some moments,” Lucas tells me.
“The flaws of a person who’s thinking too much,” I respond and turn to face him. “Also combined with the side effects of the fact that I’m not alone in this head of mine.”
He takes out the ingredients on the kitchen island for whatever he wants to prepare. He looks at me with his arms crossed and a small smile on his lips, while studying my two copper crystals.
“I want you to tell me more of what you think about. I want to know everything about you. I also want you to know that you don’t have to process everything on your own. Or, at least, not with Anora, but with a real person. With me,” he gets closer to me, taking my face in his hands. “Do you trust me, Anmara?”
I stare into his gorgeous eyes and nod, accentuating his smile. His gaze goes to my lips, and then he kisses them sweetly and softly. His tongue enters through my lips, and I let it take mine in a slow waltz that calms down all the stress inside of me, leaving behind a more relaxed version of my being.
I think I have fallen crazy in love with the man in front of me, especially after how my blood aggressively pulsated in my veins and my heart in my chest.
He slowly breaks away, keeping his hands on my face. His body is so close to mine that I can feel his erection on my leg. If we would have been alone, my hand would’ve grabbed it…
“So, tell me: what are you thinking about, beautiful woman?” he asks me, dispelling my perverse thoughts.
“Now, about you,” I say, and my eyes go wide when I realise what I could’ve gotten out of my mouth, making him laugh softly.
“I entered that lovely mind of yours that hard, didn’t I? I’m slowly taking over all of your senses until there will be nothing more to cover, and you’ll feel my whole love everywhere you might go.”
“Maybe.”
