𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

49 || All For Her

The Weeknd - In The Night

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Celina

"I love you."

"You never loved me!"

"Yes I do... what are you trying to say, Alejandro?"

The man doesn't speak, instead, his hands pry at his face until the prosthetics fall and reveal a completely different person."You don't love me, you love my brother-"

The violin flatlines, her gasp, dramatic in its efforts blares from the speaker while the screen replay's the scene, over and over again until I reach across the bed, grab the remote and shut the T.V off.

With a newfound sense of peace, I bring my attention back to my laptop screen and proceed with organizing the various forms of information I'd gathered into an encrypted folder.

Movement from the corner of my eye drags my focus to little Four Eyes who crawls across the bed, grabs the remote from my hand and turns the daytime soap opera back on.

I look at him. He looks at me. And only when I reach for the remote does he hold it out of my reach and in an attempt to communicate his message, he sits on the remote. As if his five pounds of bones will do anything but fall to the floor with one single kick of my foot.

I debate following through with the idea, unfortunately, my conscious thinks better of it.

"Fine." I drag my eyes to the screen where the show i'd forced myself to watch last night- in an act self- punishment blares, "In the end, she kills him and ends up marrying the brother."

A sigh, as heavy as one could get from an abnormally small six year old echos in the room and with a satisfied chuckle, I move my attention back to my laptop.

Once again, movement catches my eye but this time after he's switched off the T.V, he crawls towards me  and plants himself right into my side, staring between my laptop screen and my face, his words clear.

What are you doing?

I hover over the folder, before returning my gaze to his questioning one. "Can you keep a secret?"

The kid doesn't talk, of course he can.

The question is meant to be a light one, not one that forces discomfort into his small frame as he nods tensely, looking to his lap.

And as if that's not enough for my perceptive mind, I force his head up to see his eyes, watery beneath the frames of his glasses.

I lightly nudge his shoulder, "I'm joking." Yet despite my words thrown in nonchalance, his haunted face stays engrained in my mind, leaving such a mark that I feel the need to know why, who and what is causing it.

I'd destroy it.

Despite wanting to, I don't pry. I have no right, he's not my responsibility, he's just a cute kid, one whose family I was plotting the demise of.

When his body relaxes against mine, I force my eyes back to the screen and speak to distract him. "I have folders with dirt on everyone that's pissed me off or wronged me."