Chapter 19 - Our Demons (Part 3)

8.9K 396 129
                                    

Warning: A sensitive topic will be discussed in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised.

"Put your makeup on, get your nails done

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

"Put your makeup on, get your nails done. 

Curl your hair, run the extra mile. Keep it slim, so they like you.

Do they like you? 

Get your sexy on, don't be shy, girl, take it off

This is what you want, to belong so they like you.

Do you like you?"

Do you like you?"

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Angelo's POV

"His name is Adrian." Her tone was an apprehensively dejected one, followed by a deep breath. I didn't know what to do. Do I go back to her? Do I remain here? I was afraid that the wrong move would cause her to withdraw again.

"His name is Adrian and I met him two years ago. It took a lot for my father to even allow the relationship but my mother had a lot to do with that. It didn't take long before I realized I merely replaced one form of control with another, much like Aurora." She sighed and looked away from me, her facial expressions portraying her regret. I turned around to face her properly, taking a few steps closer to the couch. 

"He began controlling the things I ate, the clothes I wore, the way I wore my hair, the people I saw, the places I was allowed to go to. He controlled it all. In fact, he controlled more than my father ever did. I was required to always have makeup on, always curl my hair, make certain to always be in a pair of heels, and most importantly, always have a flat stomach. I wasn't allowed to be bloated and if I was, he would make sure I knew. He would make sure I felt shameful for it." She glanced down to her hands, twiddling with her fingers roughly.

It didn't take long before she grabbed the other tumbler and poured some whiskey into it, throwing the full amount into the back of her throat to try to calm her nerves. I decided to walk back to the couch, placing my glass onto the table and sitting in the same spot as earlier. I could feel my anger wanting to burst through. In fact, I didn't want to hear anymore. I wasn't confident that I would be able to keep myself in check or control my need to jump on a plane and fucking kill this boy. Why the fuck has her father or brother even allowed this bullshit? However, I remained quiet and let her to go at her pace. She needs to say it out loud in order to heal from it. I need to bite my tongue and force down my temper. She is what matters right now.

Beautiful MistakeWhere stories live. Discover now