f i f t y

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HE LOVES ME NOT
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( THANK YOU SO MUCH GUYS FOR 130K VIEWS! THIS IS SUCH A HUGE MILESTONE AND I COULDN'T HAVE ACHIEVED IT WIHTOUT YOU ALL🤍🤍🤍

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There was a time when though the world around me was chaotic, waking up was like transitioning from one good dream to an even better one. 

With inked arms wrapped tightly around me, I would feel protected. His strong scent enveloping me often made me think I deserved that wholesome kind of peace, you know? And with the soft feathery kisses he would place all over my face just to coerce my sleepy head to wake, and that husky voice whispering sweet words into my ear, I would feel like some fucking heroine in a romance novel.

I felt adored.

I felt cherished. And when he would call me his queen, I felt such great power.

How laughable all the memories were now.

For the past weeks, waking up has become a chaos on its own. It started to feel like a state of emergency, as if sleeping was a dangerous thing. Because all my doubts would always come to play in my dreams, and I was always caught up fighting the battles I didn't bargain for so at the end, I would jump out of sleep like there was war going on over my roof. And then I would look around only to be met with an empty room, the sun coming in pale and glowless, almost as though nature could feel my sorrows too.

Loneliness had become such great company of mine even though with his absence, I had the freedom to move around the house as I wanted, talk to whoever I desired to and do whatever crazy things I chose to do, like chat about Tanzania, Doyle's home country, with him. 

It sort of turned out that Doyle wasn't my brother after all. He was just a kid Mikhail picked up from the street on a business or whatever trip to Tanzania. Apparently, Doyle had stolen Mikhail's wallet on that day but instead of being angry when he caught him, Mikhail was rather impressed by his quickness and wit. So he took him along with him when coming back to Russia, sent him to school then the army so he could learn the ways better and come back to work for his empire; The Vendetta Crime Family.

Doyle said he owed his life to Mikhail. He said he entered the familial alive and he was ready to leave dead. I thought that was pitiful.

"I don't know if I ever told you this but I really don't like flowers," Riccardo's voice broke through my thoughts. "Especially bright ones. They're blinding."

'He loves me not' the words rang through my head, the bitterness I had been feeling lately causing my chest to tighten as yet again, I plucked out the last petal in the stick, leaving behind the yellow bub.

My eyes stung a little as they shifted from the empty stem I had in my hand to my school skirt whose dark red colour had been soiled with the bright of the pretty daisy. 

I couldn't believe I ended the life of another innocent flower just so I could hurt my aching heart all over again by trying to determine if the subject of my affection really returned the affection or if he just played with my heart. 

It had gotten so bad over the past few days of still not hearing from him. And Mrs T's words ringing in my head and tormenting my dream wasn't even helping matters at all. Then desperation cajoled me into playing effeuiller la marguerite. But unfortunately for me, every try would always end in, he loves me not. I gave up on it, but today, I found myself plucking the poor flower from the thousands, hoping I could be lucky.

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