• 15 • The Last Time?

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I blamed myself

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I blamed myself.

I had a feeling he was going to do some fuck shit like that, and I was right. I shouldn't have left him alone with Josie, I should've insisted to stay even though she told me she was going to be ok. I averted my gaze to the guy I just beat up. I saw red, and not just because of the small pool of blood on the floor next to his nose. Droplets were splattered on the white cabinet doors and the oven. I washed my hands and rings before I searched through my contacts for the one guy I knew who could clean up this type of mess flawlessly.

"Boss," a lazy voice spoke through the phone.

"Mario, I need you to do me a favor."

I vaguely explained the situation to him and hung up a couple minutes later. I reached for the guy's pocket where his wallet was and opened the cheap leather pouch. In it was a few bills and a condom. God only knew that if it wasn't for Josie stopping me, I would've made sure the bastard could never use protection in his entire pathetic life. I finally found his drivers license and took a quick picture of it.

"I'm done," Josie stood at the kitchen's entrance, two suitcases on both of her sides. Her eyes were fixed on the dude's almost unconscious body and I could tell she hadn't fully recovered from the incident.

I nodded and carried the rest of the boxes in one travel. I helped Josie with her luggage before hopping into the car where she was already buckled up in the passenger seat.

For the first thirty minutes she was silent, gaping at the road and upset. Her fingers fidgeted with her gold necklace, revealing the purple marks on her wrists. The sight made me want to turn the car around and find that bastard so I could beat him to death. I stiffly inhaled and exhaled controlling the rage that was boiling inside me.

"Are you good?" I stole a glance in Josie's direction. She looked genuinely worried as she stared at my white knuckles gripping onto the steering wheel like there was no tomorrow. A slight frown was now visible on her angel face and she had let go of her jewelry. I relaxed my grip and nodded sending her a small smile. "Your mother's right. You're constantly frowning," she mumbled and looked to the window, her hand reaching back up to her neck.

She shouldn't have been the one worried. She's the one who got viciously gropped by a creep. I was the one who should've been checking on her every five seconds after what happened. Though I wanted to ask her if she was ok, I already knew the answer to that, and me asking couldn't bring any good to her emotionally. To think that just a few hours ago she was joking and teasing me... Seeing her all morose left a weird feeling in my chest.

We were unlike a few weeks ago, when she gave me the cold shoulder. We were playful, laughing... so fucking close. When she was laying on my chest her hand on my torso, it all felt right. It was closeness that I wanted to extend to eternity. It was something so visually banal, and yet so intimate. It was just the two of us, and it was our moment. A moment when I felt like she was mine. Like I could capture those devilishly delicious-looking lips of hers into a kiss that would mark my territory for good. Forever.

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