Azalea

chapter 42~kneel

I hear a soft knock; it's a housekeeper, but I still haven't said a word to anyone.

"I'm coming in," she said, walking in with food.

"Hello, honey," she smiles at me sweetly.

"I made grilled cheese and tomato soup for dessert, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches; they even put Kitkat and reese's for you; isn't he sweet? He does this every time," she smiles.

It would have been sweet if he hadn't hated me.

"You haven't eaten in two days. Please eat something," she begs, but I slowly, with no energy, shake my head and say,No.

"I'll leave it here, in case you change your mind," and I never do.

I don't feel like eating.

I don't feel like talking.

I don't feel like a human.

My head feels empty. I feel tired of them trying to talk to me, of asking me to eat, of lying in bed, of not being able to move a muscle.

All I do is breathe, sleep, and think.

I haven't seen Dorian, but that's a good thing. I don't want to see him, and every time I think of him, I feel like crying.

For me, shouting and yelling is more than just a loss of temper.

It's a feeling of hating someone; it makes someone feel unwanted.

I was in a place where raised voices and fists were all too common and were used on a daily basis.

I'm not scared of blood or committing a crime such as murder, but I'm still a person with feelings who was tortured in the body of a girl.

The things you can do to it, the things that you can make them do

They wouldn't have killed you, though; they were too hungry for what I had.

All my life, I have been independent and never asked for anything, be it material help or any help in general.

But now I wish I had someone I could just feel safe with and maybe even hug.

from hands that won't be ripping my clothes off.

I signed and was about to go to sleep number 6 of the day when I heard a knock that I hadn't heard before.

I have remembered everyone's knock. They are like footsteps; each one sounds different.

I don't say anything, and a few seconds ago, they came in.

It's Owen I thought to myself without even looking in the person's direction.

I continue to look out the window like I usually do.

"Hi, Aza," he starts and waits for me to look at him, but I don't. He gets close to the bed.

What does he want now?

I look in his direction and see him kneel.

I don't ask why he's doing this.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

Judging by looks, he's a tough guy. Even when he talks with his brothers, his tone is something else, not rude but showing his no joke.

But never with me.

"I have never apologized to anyone other than mom when I was still a kid, so I'm not good at it. I wouldn't feel bad not apologizing to anyone, but my heart feels like exploring whenever I think about what happened," he tries to explain.

I look up and down at him, scanning his face and body.

He's tensed and looks like he hasn't been sleeping.

When everything happened a few months ago, Owen wasn't really involved in it; he was processing alone in his room.

"I don't expect forgiveness; I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm really sorry."

I'm not sure what to do; I don't want it to be unfair because his brothers were acting badly towards me.

I still look at him, wanting to say that it's fine, but something stops me.

"There's someone who wants to meet you."

I softly shake my head not to, saying that I don't want it.

"It's our mother" shock was filling me, but I didn't show it on my face.