She was everything they never expected.
Regal and mysterious, Callaia Sosa was more than they bargained for when they accepted the job of protecting her. Little was told of the heiress and there was even less to find.
They expected someone spoiled...
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My fingers dig into the shower wall as the scalding water rains down on me. Head bowing, I hide even from myself, letting my hair snake across my face through the rivers slithering down my body. I had held on until I could unravel in private, and unravel I did. Who knew air could be so hard to take back into my lungs when all I want to do is keep screaming. Even when I've screamed until it feels like my lungs are going to collapse in on themselves.
Silently, screeching, sobbing. My screams barely empty the agony out of me. Not enough to take a breath anyways.
My chest aches like nothing I've ever felt before. He's still here and yet I'm already grieving. How is this any different than any other circumstance? None of us are promised tomorrow. We're barely able to secure the next seconds to come. At any point in time, I could've gotten that dreaded call. Without warning, like a slap to the face, he'd be gone.
That is life. I've seen enough death to know this. Yet, here I am, saying goodbye before I'm ready.
As much as I've grown, I'm still a child in some ways. Somehow, in my mind, we are eternal. Paw and I would always be. That's the solid foundation beneath my feet that I've set my life upon. No matter what I come across, no matter what I face, in my heart I always know I could go home and he'll be there waiting for me. He's always suppose to be there.
A sob escapes my lips, a fist bangs against the tile. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I hoarsely whisper, hitting the tile over and over in between my curses.
Will I ever be able to breathe again?
My phone goes off in my room, an annoying nerve grating ringtone that's as generic as they come. Rage comes over me, head lifting to murderously glare at the tile. My shoulders are tense as I wait out the caller, livid at having been interrupted yet again. It took all of my self control earlier to not snap at Alec. He loves Paw as much as I do.
" And I have to be the one to tell him," I croak out. My eyes squeeze shut as my phone goes quiet. I take a few steadying and deep breaths, trying to pull myself together again. I have to go out there. I have to act like I'm in control of myself. I have to continue moving, and doing, and living even though all I want is to crumble right here and never get up again.
The phone starts ringing again. I growl and punch the tile with my right hand, feeling the pain but taking it into my bones euphorically. It settles into the sinew and muscle, radiating out like a calming high. I let my head fall back, eyes closing as I hold my injured fist. When the rage tries to burst back in, I squeeze it until I grunt from the pain.
My heads falls forward again, pants leave my lips as I shiver from suppressing the cry of pain. I swallow it, taking it within me until I'm able to open my eyes. I glare at that pristine marble tile like it's the reason Paw is sick, like it's the reason he's leaving me. I slap my hurt hand on it, watching the splayed fingers turn white from the pressure I push into it. When the phone goes off a third time I know I have to face the world. I have to keep a brave face. People depend on me to always be in control of myself. They depend on me to be sound of mind, to attack with precision.
