Life Is A Living Hell

Chapter 46 Tell Me Sweet Lies (rewritten)

We lie best when we lie to ourselves.
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Olivia Brown

When I woke up the very next day, I woke up to Antonio sleeping next to me in his clothes from yesterday. He didn't even bother to take off his shoes. I guess he didn't have any energy left to go up to his own bedroom either.

Putting the cover off of me, I reached for my phone for like the hundredth time since yesterday. I had texted Alex even though I knew there was no chance that they would allow him to have his phone. Instead of making myself forlorn by looking at the unread texts and all the unanswered calls, I gazed at the clock, 10:30 AM. My eyes fell from my phone down to my bruised wrist.

I guess I asked for it.

I breathed out a jagged breath and made my way to my bathroom. There I stood in front of the mirror, staring, just staring through my dead eyes at my cold, troubled heart that melted every time Anton kissed me. And I didn't like it one bit, it felt like I was losing control over myself. I felt too much. So much that it was unbearable. I wanted to cry the emotions out like you see in horror movies where the demon leaves the possessed body out of the mouth. I needed the demon out of my body if I didn't want to burn to death.

Not only that, but I wanted to feel simultaneously as I didn't. That was the tiring part. One second, I yearned to feel him and the emotions he only seemed to bring out of me, yet the next second, I yearned to turn off my mind and heart. I desired to go back to the way it was before, where I didn't feel anything and was at peace. Because when I felt, I felt too much that it hurt. It was like my heart was burning up, and I was just there, watching as it went up in flames and knowing I couldn't do anything to help myself. I was in agony as I watched my heart burn, since I knew my heart had killed itself for nothing. The sane voice in my head told me the truth that he didn't care about me, still there was another voice that told me sweet lies that he did care. And fuck me...my heart believed those sweet lies when my mind didn't, that was why I was in agony, watching myself smoulder. I was at war with myself. And I didn't know whether I wanted my heart to win or my mind. The only thing I could hope for was that at least some part of me survived.

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When I got back to my bedroom, Antonio was nowhere to be seen. I released a relieved sigh and strolled to my walk-in closet. Leisurely, I stripped as I stared at my wounded wrist. I had never in my entire life got so many blue and purple marks as I got here in the presence of Antonio. Both from pain and pleasure.

I once read, 'Sometimes you get lucky and find the one who gives you bite marks on your thighs and love marks on your heart.' As of now, he had only given me bite marks on my thighs and burn marks on my heart. Not that he was the one. I didn't even think there was 'the one' for anyone. You just happen to spend your life with someone who crosses your path. And a lot of people will cross your path, yet there's no sign that manifests who 'the one' is. You just end up with someone, and later on, you break up. After that, you find a new one. So goes the circle on and on, at least nowadays.

Apparently, there's too much temptation around us. So, it isn't easy for us to be faithful to one person. Which I wasn't a huge fan of. I liked the old ways, where you got married and stayed monogamous for the rest of your life with that person. Where you would share all your firsts with that one person; where you would share your future and past; where you would share your minds, beliefs and souls with each other. It sounded too much like a fairytale, which I was aware of. Still, somebody had that fairytale. I couldn't comprehend that. Don't think that I was totally out of whack, I knew it sounded too much like something from another world. Still, it was beautiful. I once believed in that fairytale, all the way until I saw my father's hands covered in my mum's scarlet red blood. My belief in a fairytale life got more vague and vague for every time a sleazy, wrinkly hand touched my skin. For every time I stepped into that smoky, purple-lit church, all the pervs frequented, thinking they were Gods when they paid those nuns to get on their knees and pray for them. And all those 'oh, my God' the nuns purred out, you would have thought you really were in a church. That was my reality, and I had to accept this dystopian world.

I rearranged my hoodie as the door to the bedroom opened.

"Olivia!" I heard Vittoria's voice call.

"What?" What could possibly have happened now? It couldn't be any worse than it is already. What if something happened to Alex?

"God, please, I can't take more." Groaning quietly, I already felt the tears on their way. Vittoria ambled into the walk-in closet with a grin on her face.

"I have good news," she cheered, practically jumping up and down. Huh?

"I have a feeling that you aren't here by choice and that they don't tell you anything, even though you told me you're here for a mission. But if they don't tell you anything, how could you help with that mission? They don't tell you anything, which I noticed when I mentioned the deal with your father and brother, which was crazy. Am I right? Like wow. Then I realised you can't help at all without information, you know. Also, I've a feeling that you wanna help. Or maybe not, I don't know. Maybe you only want the informati—" Jeez, this girl.

"Vittoria, you're rambling again. Take a deep breath and tell me the news, okay?" She inhaled and sighed softly.

"Sorry," she whispered apologetically.

"Now tell me the news." I continued, exhausted, not really that excited or interested in what she had to say.

"Theo was drunkenly mumbling Antonio's plan on how they're taking Joseph down," she announced with a serious voice.

"I can tell you the entire plan." She added with a wicked grin. Damn, I'm beginning to like this girl.

I smirked back. Antonio, you can't hold me in the dark forever.

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