*** NEW AND IMPROVED ***
With her father missing, Shay will do anything to get him back, even if that means teaming up with a cruel gang leader and his band of psychotic men.
CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN.
***WARNING*** OFFENSIVE CON...
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SO COLD
THE SILENCE THAT WEDGED itself between us, snugly fitted between our bodies, its touch caressing and intimate, was loudly demanding for answers neither one of us was sure we owned. Its prods and pokes were intrusive, and unpleasant. The thoughts escaped from our heads and manifested into physical beings, staring at us meanly in the face. There was no escaping a much-needed discussion of our future and our currently in tatters 'relationship'. We couldn't keep going back and forth like we were trapped on a dizzying ride that never ceased to stop, in a vacant fair ground where the wind howled and clowns cackled manically beneath us, dancing in a circle, flashing blurs of red and chops of sound.
I could sense his rising confusion and his feelings of dismay and disappointment. I wanted to speak, to say something. Anything. But my hands were closed into tight fists and my chest was overcrowded and ready to explode with buzzing, angry wasps and I didn't want to lash out or cradle the flame until it grew and engulfed the pair of us. The smoke may vanish eventually but we'd be burned and scarred forever.
Half an hour later and Vyacheslav signalled, taking a left turn into a gas station. He parked outside pump station four and asked, glancing at us through the rear view mirror. "Want anything?"
Neither one of us spoke.
Vyacheslav sighed, an annoyed third party to our tiresome theatrics and exited the vehicle. I observed his tall figure in baggy jeans and a leather jacket. It looked misplaced on his body. I was so used to seeing him in suits, it was like seeing a teacher outside of school, like at a mall. Surreal and weird as hell.
Attention twisting back round to the man beside me, I realised I needed to –at the very least– take us to stable ground. I didn't want him to hate me and I didn't want to hate him. Just as I unhinged my jaw, ready to speak, he said quietly. "I'm sorry." Sincerity gazed back at me, and exhaustion rested on his shoulders and wore down his face. "I shouldn't have said that. I insulted you and I apologise. I keep fucking up repeatedly and I'm trying my hardest not to. You deserve the truth. I'm trying to keep you safe and it's not working. So," he exhaled heavily, rubbed a hand across his bristly jaw and offered. "Ask me anything."
Immediately grabbing onto the offer, I said the first thing that came to mind. "Do you love me?"
"Yes." His honesty wasn't what I expected. I was pleased.
"Why did you break up with me?"
"To keep you safe. I'm trying not to be selfish." He hesitated and said. "It's a long story."
"You have my time," I angled towards him, a leg crossed under me, attentive and fixed on him.
Our gazes clashed and unable to look away, he said. "I was terrified when you were shot. You almost died. I thought I'd lose you and I couldn't go through that again. I couldn't put you in danger again. I tried to give you a life where you'd be safe and happy so I distanced myself from you. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done. All I wanted to do was to see you and comfort you. I hated seeing you lying there on the hospital bed and I knew I was hurting you by avoiding you but in the long run, you'd be better off without me. My confession doesn't mean we're getting back together. You knowing the truth doesn't change anything. You're not coming back to work."
