𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘚𝘐𝘕 / 𝘋𝘈𝘔𝘐𝘈𝘕𝘖 𝘋𝘈𝘝𝘐𝘋

XIX

joji — yeah right

"You killed him!" Dette whispered, raising her hands to her forehead. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that had accumulated so fast and so hard, cutting into her eye sockets. Her head began to ache violently, her mind went blank, and Dette couldn't do anything about it, couldn't control herself. Every day she died, whether she was with Damiano or not, her soul succumbed to the weight of William's death. This guy was the only one who supported, knew, and listened, their souls ached for each other, the tears of one were an ocean on the other's face, but even after the death of a friend, this fraternal chain didn't break, it became even stronger. They were in the heart of each other because the heart was the only spotless and pure place on Earth, their hearts that beat for each other. William left. Dette stayed. She has to continue living in a place that has lost all its colors.

Damiano was a ray of hope for a new life of happiness because there was no other way, she couldn't stay, because she couldn't stand her father's conversations and all the things that reminded her of her lost friend. William taught Esposito not to be afraid: not to be afraid of anger and resentment, not to be afraid to look fear in the eye, because you can't talk about bad things without saying good things. Life is a balance of all the beautiful and terrible things that exist in our lives. A balance that Bernadette had lost a long time ago.

She couldn't help but blame herself for what she'd done, tried to tell herself that the rumors about her witch great-grandmother were a lie, that Damiano had looked at her himself, but every time she looked into his eyes, she was reminded of a mistake in her pride that she couldn't forgive. So even when she was hundreds of kilometers away from her golden cage, she still felt miserable and comforted herself with thoughts of William. The girl knew that the idealized image of her friend in her head was false, but she kept doing it. She continued because this image would never again destroy her expectations. She can idealize him, anything, because the guy would never get up on his feet again, won't come up and hug her.

"You can't accuse me of dishonoring you because you used your magic," Damiano's expression was unreadable, yet there was a clash of fire and icy cold inside him, his chest was burning so hard that you could have lit a cigarette, and his hands were wrapped in a cold sweat from nerves. He didn't scream, didn't look broken, probably because he'd replayed this conversation in his head a thousand times. And a thousand times he's accepted that outcome.

"Childish magic is nothing compared to murder," the girl spat venom.

"We killed our love with our lies, Bernadette," David got up from the couch and stood in front of the stairs, his hands clenched into fists, " your fault here is no less than mine."

"Not just our love, Damiano, "the curly-haired girl exclaimed, moving closer to the boy and pressing her index finger against his chest," you killed my love for William. Just like him."

"I wanted to settle everything peacefully, I swear to everything, I wanted to," Damiano suddenly shouted, waving his hand in the air, " but he's not like you, he didn't listen to a single sound that came out of my mouth. I didn't listen. I didn't want to put up."

"Are you happy with the pain you caused me?"

Every time she cried in the bathroom to the sound of running water, she imagined herself as William and Damiano, and the voice in her head reminded her that all this could have been prevented. Now that voice has woken up again.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."David came closer, taking her hands in his, but the girl also quickly pulled them away, raising them to her eyes and hiding her tears. She turned away from the boy, away from everyone, panting and staring into the darkness of her arms. "Seeing you destroy yourself every day brought me an incredible amount of pain, which I had to live with and hide, otherwise you would have killed yourself completely," the guy shot a glance at Victoria, who was sitting on the couch, her brows furrowed, and there were several wet tracks under her eyes from tears. She was killing herself, too. Just like everyone else in this room.