Finding Her

C H A P T E R - S E V E N

Tumbling Down

V A L E R I U S ' P O V :

The auburn liquid drizzles down into the glass thickly. I bring the cup to my lips and take a heavy gulp.

I sit down in my home office, my black cushion chair. I open a drawer. One I closed off before I moved to America. One I promised myself I'd never open again.

Some promises, though, are meant to be broken.

I pull out a picture book and throw it on my desk, leaning on my chair.

Valerius Armani & Katerina Watson
  2015 - 2016

I'm not really sure why I kept this. Maybe to hold onto what I had. A piece of the past.

Once I loved Katerina. Maybe I do still love her, I'm not completely sure yet.

Love is a hard thing for me.

Once I was so madly in love. I was willing to give up everything for her, but in the end she only saw me for a monster.

I don't blame her. I am. I ruin everything I touch. I'm no good. I'm destructive.

It was shocking to my family when they found out. They weren't happy it was someone outside of the mafia, my mamma specifically. She believes in tradition and this wasn't even close.

I'm not a romantic person, I've never been a lovable person. I never did relationships. I never imagined myself with someone who could love me. That was until my Katerina Watson.

We had a rough meeting. It wasn't ideal.

But something struck me that night. It wasn't just her blue eyes that drew me to her. Something in me felt complete in her presence. She made me not think. Not breathe sometimes.

Sometimes my love for her was so strong it felt like I was dying.

It was thrilling.

I knew she was going to be important in my life. I thought I had thrown that all away a few years ago but now I'm not so sure. I think she gave me much more than tears and a heartbreak.

I let my finger glide along the side of the photo album. It's small, black. It has an engraving in shiny, gold letters.

To: My Stalker

The gift was for our first and last anniversary spent together.

The first page was a photo of Katerina making a funny face to the camera with me not paying attention in the background. She knew I hated having my photo taken so she made it her goal to always sneak one when I wasn't looking.

Payback for stalking her, I assume.

Flipping through the book, I am well aquatinted with the memories that go with them. The good, the bad, the even worse.

I haven't revisited this book since I moved six years ago. It hurts to remember, to relive.

I flip to the last page and see it is dated right before everything happened. My heart stops.