Twisted Love

Chapter 29

Alizeh

Tick Tok. Tick Tok. Tick Tok.

I shoot up with another nightmare.

The same clock ticking in my dreams, the same one I had already smashed a thousand times.

I rush to the washroom and vomit out every last bit of food I had yesterday morning. I am not even hungry anymore. I sit down near the wall and hold my legs in my arms.

I feel strong. Powerful. I want to cause destruction.

I look at the blade in my hands as I roll it in my fingers.

I have the power and the control to kill myself if I want. No one else does. But I am not going to because I want this power to last long.

I get up and switch on the shower as I start from my thighs right below Ace's t shirt. It doesn't feel good.

It hurts like a motherfucker. But shit, I feel in control.

"No one loves you, you are just a puppet controlled by your masters" a voice whispers in my head as I press harder.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" Ace whispers.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am so screwed.

"I cut myself while shaving."

He pauses and asks "You were shaving at 1 in the morning?"

"Yes. Don't come near me." I warn.

"Star."

"Stop right there."

"Star." I look away.

"Wake the fuck up." he yells.

"Don't call me that."

He comes closer to me as I cocoon myself near the edges of a wall.

"If you come any closer, I will cut you with this."

"Go ahead, baby" He walks closer, his arms forward, submitting towards me as I stare at him. He gives me control.

I cut his arm and blood leaks out as he curses me. Tears blind my eyes when I realise what I have done. For the second time in my life.

I try pushing him away as he comes close and hugs me. I hit him, poke his wound but he just doesn't leave my body. Only clutches my waist harder and buries his face in my neck.

I throw an ugly tantrum as he finally pushes me away.

He shakes my shoulders vigorously and thunders "ALIZEH"

I bend down as my back sweeps the wall and sit on the floor. He follows me and crouches down next to me. I try to see any remnants of the angry little boy in him.

His eyebrows twitch as he looks fixedly at me, not wavering even a little.

Hot tears envelope my face as they fall one by one.

Each drop reminds me of what I always will be. Weak, pitiful, fragile. A sorry tragedy.

No, I don't want that.

I get up and wreck the entire bathroom cabinet as he watches me. Steadily. Unfeeling. But his gaze just doesn't move. He looks at me as I shatter the mirror, gets up, forcefully picks me up and drops me in the corner of my bedroom.

Dispassionate. Restrained. Disregardful of my rage and outburst.

I want him to feel too. I want him to cry. To collapse. I need him to. I want to shove him away so I voice his only phobia.