SPECTER [Ghost FanFiction 18+]

VI| Shattered pieces

[Emilia Soranzo]
[A week later]

My eyebrow arched at the angry chopping Ghost was doing in the kitchen.

"You're bothering me," I said, trying to continue with my book. "You're being quite loud, darling."

Ghost just continued chopping apples, wasn't even fazed by my comment.

I shut my book, quite loudly and intentionally "Your biggest attribute is how annoying you can be when you want to, twat."

Ghost suddenly stopped and stuck the knife to the cutting board. Then he turned around to walk towards the sofa where I was sitting.

"Arsehole, cunt, wanker, twat, imbecile, idiot—" I listed but stopped when he hit my face with a pillow, almost making me lose my balance. "You fucking cunt!" I grunted "That hurt!"

"Should've kept your face in the book," he leaned his hands on backrest of the sofa. "Darling."

I growled, looking up at him "You—"

"Twat? Imbecile? Cunt? Idiot? Arsehole?" He said in a sly tone.

Tears filled my eyes as I got up quickly to rush to the bedroom. After slamming the door shut, I leaned on it and slid down as the tears trickled down my cheeks.

"Ahh!" I screamed in frustration and threw my book across the room. I am enraged for having to be here, for having been brought here without my consent, for my father hiding things for me, for not having a mother to go home to.

My head turned to my right as my jaw clenched. The first thing I saw was a table lamp; I quickly got up and reached for it to throw it across the room, breaking the ceramic base and bending the linen shade.

"FUCK!" I screamed, tearing the inside of my throat. My vision was blurry due to the anger consuming me. My hands were tingling, all I wanted to do was keep on breaking things. This is the only thing I'm in control of, and it exasperates me.

I crawled across the bed to grasp for the remaining table lamp, and throw it against the credenza underneath the TV.

[Ghost]

Emilia has been silent for around thirty minutes now, but she did throw things around for around five minutes — I think she stopped because she ran out of things to throw.

I shouldn't have hit her in the face with the pillow, it definitely set her off, but she just loves making snarky comments when she knows I'm in a...delicate mood.

Price and Soap aren't here, they flew to Italy this morning to meet with Emilia's father. Emilia will probably be going home tomorrow or the day after, however, I have to make sure she's alive.

I knocked on the bedroom door and softly opened it. Emilia was sitting at the foot of the bed, like a little broken doll — she definitely looks defeated.

The bedroom is a mess, there's broken ceramic all over the floor. There's some bloody handprints on the white duvet. The TV is definitely broken and the mirror in her bathroom too. The carafe she had in the sitting area is now just pieces of glass on the floor. It's a good thing her father paid for everything here.

I used my feet to sweep broken pieces of everything away from a space beside her, then joined her on the floor.

"I respect someone who commits to breaking things," I commented.

Emilia was breathing heavily, her palms upwards as they rested on her thighs "It hurts," her voice trembled as tears ran down her face. "Everything hurts and it just won't stop..."