SLOW UPDATES
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"𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮." 𝐈 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭.
"𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞?"
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When a stubborn, unmotivated twenty-year-old living a difficult life is in desperate need of another job to cover bills for her and...
"my darling, you will never be unloved by me you are too well tangled in my soul."
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Nailea Rivera.
What is happening with me?
She was only meant to be the girl I forced into this whole proposal for an easy year, then just get rid of her. However, it's getting more difficult to do by the minute.
My heart contracts and feels even smaller, producing erratic heartbeats the second her name is mentioned or whenever thoughts appear of her. It wasn't meant to get this far. She has occupied my mind, like words attached to a page. Never leaving, never changing.
I hadn't realised I wanted her this badly, until I kissed her. The sensual feeling of her lips on mine is a memory which will never fade. Her classic vanilla and coconut scent fill my nose and that's all I need.
Now, she's the girl I've come to care for, with whom I've never done for anyone else.
She makes me think the unthinkable, and I haven't even touched her like that yet.
Cazzo, since when did I get this fucking sappy?
The things I do for her.
My pace fastens as I near the dorm room of which belongs to a particular dipshit I am not happy with.
I bang on his door, impatiently waiting for it to open.
The pain he caused her. I wasn't even there to stop him. He'll get what he deserves.
Ethan slowly opens the door, "Why the fuck are you banging on the door, it's 2 am right-" He stops mid-sentence, to acknowledge who he's talking to.
His eyes widen, all colour leaving his face as he freezes by his door.
I don't wait for him to come to his senses as I barge in, using the collar of his white tank top to push him aggressively against his wall, slamming the door shut with my foot.
The room is completely dark, barely any light is shown apart from the moonlight through the open windows. He must have been sleeping.
The audacity.
I take out my sharpened knife from the side of my leg, pointing it directly under his throat. "Tell me why I shouldn't cut your fucking throat open right here, figlio de puttana." I sneer. [translation: son of a bitch]
His face morphs into a face of fear, much to my satisfaction. He does one thing right for me at least.
He stutters, "Look man, if you're talking about Nailea, then I don't know what's she told you but whatever it is isn't true I swear." His pathetic excuse only infuriates me more.
I tut, shaking my head. "Wrong answer, stronzo. That's my wife you're talking about. She never. Fucking. Lies." My knife digs deeper in his throat, slightly cutting it causing blood to trickle down. [translation: asshole]
