invasato [h.s]

3

A white car with the Italian word for 'taxi' plastered on the side pulls up to where I stood...much to my luck, because it's tough to wave down a taxi here.

I slide into the cab and give the driver the address to the villa before he begins to drive again.

I set the paper bag next to me and lean back against the cushioned seats, quietly sighing to myself.

Apart of me just wants to sleep when I get home but I know I need to work on the painting.

I take my phone out of my purse, calling Zayn because he asked me to keep him updated on where I was.

I press on his contact and hold the cellphone to my ear, listening to it ring.

It rings all the way through, making me frown.

If he wanted me to keep him updated so badly then maybe he should've answered his damned phone.

It goes to voicemail, so after the tone I leave a short message.

"It's Elaina. I'm on my way back to the villa now. Just keeping you updated." I murmur before ending the message.

Just as I press end, the sudden loud noise of a vehicle speeds past the cab, causing a bunch of other cars to sound their horns.

A black car was speeding down the road at an inappropriate speed that could actually get someone hurt. It zoomed past us at the speed of light and I could hear the loud engine as it sped past a corner.

"Idiots." I mumble to myself at the ridiculous driving.

As the taxi driver travels down the road, I take out my phone again and start mindlessly browsing through it to kill some time.

It was like a ten minute drive home.

I end up in my camera roll, and suddenly I feel my stomach twist a bit at one specific picture.

His arm was around my waist as he kept me in close to him, the both of us smiling with the ring on my finger.

My heart aches a bit in guilt. I feel bad for leaving.

The more I think about it, I can't decipher between what was the wrong and right decision. I could have stayed in Denver and worked my shit out. I could have tried to move past it in a more mature way.

But that's not the path I chose. I chose to escape to Italy with these extremely unrealistic hopes of starting over somehow.

And the people I left behind still love me...that's what makes it so hard.

I was doing this for myself, but now I'm not so sure.

The taxi driver arrives to the entrance of the villa. I thank him generously and pay him before getting out and waking through the black gates.

I wasn't prepared to go in and be crowded by the guys. My plan is just to stay outside and paint and pray that I'm not bothered.

I get to the front door and grab my key out of my purse to unlock it. Zayn always had the door locked, even if he was home.

I don't know why...we're pretty isolated up here, but to each their own I guess.

I open the front door and walk through the threshold, holding the brown paper bag in my arms.

"I'm back." I shout from my standing position, kicking the door closed with my foot.

When I'm met with no answer, I furrow my brows and walk further into the house.