Agape

How's that knee holding up

Chapter 28

Declan:

Slamming my apartment door shut, I chuck my keys on the table itching to break something, anything at this point. Hot, red, black, blurry. The four words that best describe rage in the sense of seeing and feeling. Muscles tensed but twitching, teeth gritted, jaw clamped, ears ringing, and fingers tingling. I'm a fuckup—a fucking promise-breaker and bastard.

Grabbing the nearest picture frame, I chuck it hard before I even realize what in the hell I'm doing. Loud clattering glass slams into my living room wall, splintering the cream-colored carpet along with the splintered wooden frame. Step, step, step—

In a grand total of twenty seconds the lamp is broken, the TV smashed, and the x-box thrown.

My skin is sweltering, blood sizzling, ears raging. If I were on a cliff, then one foot is over the edge. Hayes rocked the boat, and now I'm going to fucking sink the ship. For her, always for her. I'm going to destroy all things touched by Julian and Hayes, I swear it on my fucking life. No—I swear it on Ella's. Hayes will be crossed out and erased. He will be nothing and no one. He will be ash and dust, burned down to the ground, with ruins of his collapse the only indication of what he once was and will never be again.

Seconds pass as I stand staring at the destruction. Seconds become minutes as they tick, tick, tick by. Until finally the small subtle knocks on my bedroom door meet my raging loud ears. Kicking the destroyed picture frame, I carelessly walk over the shattered glass, letting the shards crunch under my boots to the sound of the knocks. In front of my brown wooden door, my hand reaches up and pushes the steel barrel bolt left, unlocking the lock. For a brief moment, it's utterly quiet as I twist the cold brass knob opening the door.

My mom stands a few feet away wearing the clothes I gave her last night, shorts and a t-shirt. Her long charcoal curls are tied up in a messy bun, some springing out, not willing to be tamed. Her sapphire irises look me up and down and—and for a moment it's my mom. It's the way she looks at me, assessing me as if she's pinpointing every single thing from the way I'm standing to the emotions bubbling beneath my skin. She's seeing, and all I can do is stand still and stare. She's not a drug addict today, at least not right now. "What?" I manage to say.

"You're upset." She states softly, bringing her gaze to mine.

My shoulders stiffen. More so than they already are. I'm more than just fucking upset, I'm beyond livid. "No, I'm as happy as a horse." I retort, not being able to stop the remark when really all I feel is exposed. We haven't really spoken since the day I bought her here. Like Ella, she can sense out emotion after emotion, swelling through every waking ember of me. It's flattering but completely inconvenient.

She tilts her head to the side, pink lips pulled into a frown as if noticing and realizing how much I've changed. Before I can even register what in the hell she's doing, her chilly hand lifts up and wipes a lone tear that I didn't even know was there, swiping it away with the pad of her thumb. "You're angry and you're hurting." She murmurs, contemplating her own words as my muscles strain into tight knots. "Who are they? The person you care about."

I step back, shaking my head sharply as I hiss out, "How do you know that? Have you been in fucking contact with Julian?" My eyes boil into her skin. She's been here, how does she know about Ella?

The color drains from her face, like his name itself sucked the life out of her. "No—I have nothing to do with him." The scared quiver in her voice is not missed, but it's the truth. "You're my son Declan, and I-I know that look." She pauses, looking conflicted. "You love them, don't you?" She asks quietly after a moment, searching my face, not missing an inch as she does so. I don't have to tell her I do; she can see it as the sentence alone rips at my chest.