"𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒉𝒆'𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕."
𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 1
Copyrighted 2020
He's got blood on his hands, hatred in his veins and a black heart beating away in his chest...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any more embarrassing. He just has to see me like this. God, this is mortifying. My cheeks flare up with heat and I swallow around the ball in my throat as Remo pushes off the wall.
Tears trickle down my cheeks as he walks closer to me. I drop my eyes to his chest, unable to meet his gaze. He's right in front of me now. I can feel the warmth of his body even though he's not even touching me. The black t-shirt blurs with my tears and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Warm fingers graze my chin before cupping it gently. The roughness of his hand sends shivers down my spine.
"Ocean," Remo murmurs, his voice deep and soft, "Look at me." He rubs his thumb against my chin, nudging it up slightly. The way he says my name, the softness of his voice laced with a contained rage makes me open my eyes to look at him.
Remo releases a harsh breath, his brows dropping into a frown, those brown eyes softer than I've ever seen them before. Remo rubs his thumb against my chin again, "Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?"
Turning towards the sink, I try to move my hands to turn on the water but they were shaking too much and smeared with dirt.
Remo didn't get annoyed like I thought he would. He doesn't snap at me or walk away. Instead, he reaches over me and turns the water on himself before his two larger hands cover mine.
His hands are warm and steady, unlike mine. He holds the tightly in his grip, washing away the mess. When that was done, he reaches for my hair. I settle my hands against the sink again to hold myself up as Remo picks out the small leaves from my hair and wrings out the water. God, this is going to be a headache to clean off at home.
I watch, tears no longer streaming down my face as he scoops my hair up and ties it up with my wet scrunchie expertly. How in the world does he know how to do that?
Remo places his hand on my arm, turning me towards him. Once again, his eyes are soft as he cups my cheek. Without thinking about it, I lean into the warm touch. For some reason, that small gesture makes me cry all of again.
Jeez, Ocean you just stopped crying.
His eyebrows dip into a frown again and his lips turn down in disappointment. With the rough pad of his thumb, Remo wipes the tears away from my face. My bottom lip quivers and I cry harder. God this is so pathetic but it won't stop.
Just a simple act, a simple touch - him wiping my tears away. I press my cheek into the palm of his hand. I've never had someone wipe my tears away, never had someone there to console me in the dark. The amount of times I've broken down on the floor of my bedroom because of a nightmare that haunts me, the times I had to throw away a t-shirt I loved because it was soaked and stained in blood. I had no one there but myself and my mind.
