I was drowning in her kiss. The intensity of it filled me with sensations I'd never felt before. I taste her and I realize I've been starving. I have loved before, but never quite like this. I have kissed before, but never did it consume me like thi...
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present day
Friday, October 15th.
It's been a month. It's been a month since Alea and Leighton's agruement. Looking back, it was honestly quite stupid. Arguing about stuff neither of them knew shit about, how could Leighton know if she was a bad person or not if he's only just met her? How could Alea know what kind of relationship he had with his parents?
She had no right trying to compare her dead mother to his very much alive one.
The whole thing was ridiculous and immature. But there was no going back and honestly? She was fine with that. She was fine with how things had been going, how they haven't spoken, how they sit in silence everyday and she's fine with helping him manage his grades and keeping them afloat.
She's fine with hating him, because it was so much easier than anything else.
She tries her absolute best in trying to maintain her nonchalant demeanor around him and yet it seems like it fails everytime.
Something about his presence, something about him in general throws her off.
He makes her question everything she's ever known, even about herself.
His words have been burned, carved and etched into her brain for the last month.
"You should be glad your mother's dead, so she can't see what a fucking disappointment you turned out to be."
It's funny really, how words could cut deeper than any knife. How it stays in you like a bullet.
But unlike how a bullet is removed and leaves a wound on the skin, words leave a wound on the brain, on the heart, and the soul. His words affected her in a way she didn't even know was possible, she'd concealed her heart for so long that she had almost forgotten she had one.
One that bruises easily. She wouldn't forgive him, not like he would apologize anyway. Her mother and her never had a good relationship, they'd often argue about trivial things, things that weren't important, things that didn't need to be argued about and could've been avoided.
Maybe then, her heart wouldn't hold so much guilt.
She hates herself for not spending the very little time she had with her mother, wisely.
She should've listened to her more, she should've respected her more, She should've told her she loved her more. Alea wasn't even sure if her mother knew that she was loved by her own daughter.
