In love with the Enemy.

21

21:                                                                                       {}

I never liked the sight of being weak. I hated when I had cancer and saw all those energetic kids dancing and laughing around, secretly boasting that they have a life while us kids doesn't. I whined to my mom about it once and she assured me they don't mean to offend me, but I still despised them. I still despised the feeling of being weak.

Because of that feeling I made sure my father put every effort on making me just as badass as he was or is when he ruled the Italian Mafia. 

I wanted to not  only hold the name of the ghost but be the ghost.

I chose the ghost because, When I had Leukemia, I felt like a ghost.

An invisible child who no one saw. 

They didn't see me as me. No they saw me as someone who was suffering and all they looked at me with was pity. Pity and more pity. I hated that look. I grew to hate anyone who showed it to me.

So becoming the ghost meant I had to kill and never be seen. And so far that has been accomplished.

But looking back, Was it the right thing to do?

I shook my head as I scrubbed my scalp with my nails, Letting the conditioner soaked into my scalp. 

Is it Canada making me re think things? or Him?

Gosh I barely even know him. I don't know shit about him!

I'm not some weak girl who gets to planning weddings and kids as soon as they kiss. What is this the 60's?

One kiss and you just say, "I love you."

I cringed. I want a love story like my parents. 

Ok maybe not exactly like them but something worth fighting for. 

God not so easy.

But as I looked over the past days I realized something.

The only thing I really know about Octavius Ridge is that he is a 6 ft black headed, human being who states he is broken.

And me being my stubborn and curious self, I decided to make myself a personal mission that was blood free.

Find out exactly who Octavius Ridge is.

~

My hands were covered in leather yellow gloves as I scrubbed the floor. I could still smell the faint scent of vomit, but the strong scent of Lavender Lysol was burning my nose.

After seeing my reflection look back up at me, I decided that was enough and cleaned up the area.

I stripped my clothing and chucked it in my bag, while heading to the showers.

As I entered, the glass was foggy and a strong scent of vanilla and a fruity smell hit my nose.

It was calming and I hated to admit but I liked the smell.

The room was still faintly warm and the rug on the ground wet with footprints.

I let my feet set over it.

I took it away, and could feet the dampness beneath me.

She stood right here in this spot.

Did she look into the foggy mirror like I am doing right now?

Is she thinking about the kiss?

Is her heart beating faster than normal and her mind swirling with confusing thoughts?