Storm's Mafia Princess

Accepting

Reign's Pov

It's exhausting laying in a room all day.

The pattern on the ceiling changes everyday. The area gets smaller with each passing hour. And the lion cubs drawn on the walls are growing up to be adults.

Maybe I'm hallucinating but everything is getting worse.

But one thing remains constant, the reminders of her in the back of my mind.

I rest my head flat on the coloring books on the floor looking at the Disney cars curtains drawn to let the darkness consume the space.

I grew up here. This used to be my favorite room; my play room. I used to spend the whole day here while mom watched over me. When dad came back home in the evening, I used to sit on his back while he chased mom through the room.

Even after she was gone, this room remained the same. The time I spent here were the best days of my life. This room houses all the memories that I want to cherish forever.

But the comfort being here provides, is missing today. It feels empty. A strange feeling of longing and misery’s eating my soul. 

I hate this. I hate myself for getting so affected by her. I hate her boyfriend for meeting her before me. I hate her father for not finding her sooner. I hate my fate. I hate everything around me.

A knock sounds at the door. I know who it is. I've told him a thousand times to leave me alone but he just doesn't understand.

“Go away, dad!” I shout.

I'm fifteen, I know when I have to eat to survive. If he thinks starving for some hours is gonna kill me then he’s really wrong.

“I'm counting to five, Reign. Open the door or I'm coming in myself.”

This is the first time dad and I have had conflicting opinions. We usually always do what I want but this time he wants me to get my shit together. And I hate being told what to do.

I take another sip from the bottle of red wine in my hand. It doesn't do anything other than a good burn to remind me how I'm dying every second.

After the countdown, I hear the click of the lock and dad steps in. From my peripheral view I see him scanning the room and a look of disapproval comes on his face.

The room’s a mess. Broken furniture and empty bottles scattered on the floor with half eaten plates of food, children’s books and hundreds of photos of the girl I'm trying to forget.

Dad’s rarely disappointed by me. I always do better than his expectations. I'm the rightful heir to the Astor Empire. Not just by blood but also by the right mindset.

I'm sharp, authoritative and confident.

I'm everything that a girl would want. But she still doesn't like me. She wants more. Better.

“Last year when I said you could drink, I didn't say you can become an alcoholic.” He says, coming to stand next to me.

I ignore him and continue drinking. He doesn't make an effort to snatch the bottle because he knows that will flare me up. Instead, he sat down on the floor next to me.

“How long do you plan on crying over that girl?”

“I'm not crying.” I say, offended by his correct assumption.

Why would he say that when he knows I won't appreciate this question. If he's here to slap reality in my face then he should know I’m not dumb to miss her rejection when she says it to my face ten thousand times in each of my nightmares.