Vincent

Revenge Carrie Underwood Style

Song

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-Monday-

'Come over and see me?'

'Not today, I'm busy.'

Lie.

I wrote in my journal about how I started to isolate myself. When I opened it, there was writing in black. I wrote in blue.

'Here to talk. Tell me when you need it.' There was a heart before he sighed the nickname that I called him.

It made my life harder. This was a strong idea to start off with but it was terrible when I actually completed it. I thought about calling him but I pushed away the idea. When I went downstairs to eat, dad, Freddie, and Vincent were in the living room, engrossed in a conversation. I grabbed what I needed before scurrying back up to my room.

I couldn't stop crying. I thought I was broken for a moment because I literally couldn't stop crying. The only thing I kept hearing was "I love you, Donata." It wouldn't leave my head.

I hated how my dad acted about everything too. Why was he still inviting Vincent over? I'm literally crying my eyes out every chance I had because of him and you still allow him to come over? Jesus.

Actually, I wanted to keep my crying a secret but dad walked into my room- without knocking. He paused when he saw me on my bed, eyes puffy, sniffling. I paused too. I didn't expect him to just barge into my room. I didn't want someone to see me this weak and affected.

"Princess?" he frowned, coming over to my bed, "what's wrong, Marie?" he asked, holding out his arms for me to accept his hug. I didn't move. Somehow, I felt like my dad betrayed me as well. More than Vincent did. Dad was still having him over. But, I knew if I said something, dad would just say "it's business."

"I can't make it better if you don't tell me what's wrong, Alexis," he said. "Was it Conor? Did he fucking touch you? Did something happen with Ange or Gina?"

I couldn't help but cry harder. My elbows were resting on my knees which were pulled up to my chest. I shoved my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking. I weakly shook my head.

"Vincent told her he loved her-" My voice cracked and I couldn't even form words. Out loud, it probably sounded stupid to dad but it was very real and very heartbreaking to me.

"I'm sorry, Marie," dad pouted, "I tried to tell you the type of guy he is..." he mumbled and I looked up at him scoffing.

"Wow, thanks a fucking lot. That's real helpful. A nice I-Told-You-So, real supportive of you," I said, my voice tight as I quickly let out a sob. "If he's such a terrible man, then why do you always have him over, huh? Business? Glad to know business is more important than your daughter!"

"I didn't mean it like that," dad sighed. "I-"

"Just leave me alone, Jesus fucking Christ," I cut him off. He moved to hug me but I avoided it. Dad took a deep breath before standing up and leaving. I made sure to lock my door after.

I wished he loved me.

I wished he loved me like he loves Freddie.

He loves Freddie so much. Freddie could do no wrong in his eyes. He was grown and mature and responsible and didn't cry all the time like I did. It made sense why dad loved him more. Freddie didn't need advice like this. Freddie didn't mess up the family business. Freddie was smart.

I wish I was Freddie. Maybe dad would like me? Maybe he wouldn't? Maybe it was just my personality that sucked? A lot of people called me a bitch.

I only cried more. I even cried myself to sleep.