𝐼𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦: 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛; 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦.
In this mystifying tale, Nora Adette Seong finds herself in a strange predicament where she is heavily distraught because of a man that will inevitably cause he...
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HER small, manicured hands grabbed mines and I felt absolutely enamored. Her flushed cheeks, from all the drinks she consumed, were making it difficult for me to concentrate on thinking of what my sweet love wanted.
I then realized that she wanted to dance.
The fact that she wanted to dance, with me, to her favorite song had an inexplicable amount of adoration filling my soul.
Her soft hand gripping my large, rough hands from years of handling weapons were contrasting yet it felt absolutely perfect.
Too perfect.
I was created for her and I was hers as much as I craved for her to be mine.
Whatever amore wants, she wants to fucking dance? Like the whipped coglione I am, I dance.
I was so fixated on her, that I did not even realize there were couples slow dancing to the song laughing like idioti.
My beautiful girl, starts drunkenly singing along to the song softly; her melodious voice southing my soul and it felt as if all my sins were being erased and I was pure again.
"Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought."
Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours."
Che cazzo di roba se sono stronzate.
[Translation: What a fucking load of bullshit.]
I was too far gone with doing messed up shit, to atone for everything— these moment with my little love had me feeling for the first time in my life at complete, utter peace.
I was always taught, "Conquistare o morire"; Conquer or Die. That if you didn't attack first, there would be no after. Any weakness was never an option but for my birth-givers that was not a problem at all.
They never loved each other. They benefited off of each other.
I was conditioned my entire life to handle machine guns, ingest poison, fight, train, since the age of five until I would pass out over and over again.
They made sure I was clinically insane, made sure I felt no emotions and I didn't until her.
She was my miracle.
If Dante had not nagged me with his gaze, to retrieve the espressohe needed to go about his day; leg broken and bitching about all the fucking time— I wouldn't have met her.
Dante doesn't drink, after my father forced him to finish an entire bottle of vodka because he had taken a swig without my father's permission.
I remember that day vividly, even though most of my memory is vague; from all the electric shock sessions my father made me go under in order to strengthen my already impenetrable pain tolerance.
