After being disowned by her parents, fifteen year old Serena Verlice finds herself in a toxic relationship with a much older man. She undergoes four years of emotional and physical abuse until one day she goes to the doctor and receives a devastatin...
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"You're here because there's damage to your lungs you shouldn't be smoking," He scolds, angrily walking over to me and taking the cig out of my hand.
"And you shouldn't be walking around either," He sighs, looking down at me. He stares at me for a few seconds, his eyes a sea of anger, confusion and pity.
He knows.
He sits down on the chair next to me, staring out at the starless night sky.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He sighs, his voice low.
"Tell you what?" I reply wearily, praying maybe he doesn't know. It's stupid but I want to hold on to the last slither of normality I have.
If he found out one of two things will happen. He'll never forgive me for keeping it from him or he'll keep me around and treat me like a porcelain doll.
I want to continue living in the counterfeit reality I've cultivated, the one where there's still hope for a future with Emilio.
"No you're not doing that anymore, you don't get to just lie to my face," He grits, trying to contain his anger.
I feel tears rimming in my eyes, the sheer disappointment and betrayal lacing his voice breaking my heart.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, not knowing what else to say.
"You're sorry?" He laughs, although there is no amusement evident in his voice. He abruptly stands up, running a stressed hand through his unkept hair as he paces back and forth.
"Why wouldn't you tell me? I thought you trusted me," He says, exacerbated. "Leukaemia Serena! I mean how could-" He rants, stopping mid sentence to try and calm himself down.
My tears are now falling down full force as I look down at my shaking hands.
"I'm sorry," He sighs, taking a deep breath. "Don't cry," He mumbles, lifting my chin up so our eyes can meet.
His grasps my face, using his thumbs to wipe away my tears.
"You should have told me Serena, I could have helped sooner," He says softly, his face tormented. "Now we have to rush to get you on a treatment plan before it's too late," He sighs, his voice cracking near the end.
"I can't afford-" I go to explain but I'm immediately cut off.
"I will pay for it obviously," He scoffs, looking slightly offended that I ever assumed otherwise. "I can't ask you to do that," I mumble, ashamed to be relying on him so heavily.
"You're not asking me to do anything I'm telling you that's what's going to happen," He replies sternly.
"Emilio it'll cost a lot and it's probably too late for it to even work, I don't want you to waste that much money" I tell him.
"Don't fucking say that," He scolds, getting frustrated again. "It's not too late and I don't give a shit about the money, I'd pay ten million if it meant you'd be healthy."
