𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

31 || Turn Tables

Song: The Weeknd - save your tears (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Nico

My hatred for butterflies has only grown in the past four days.

The issue had nothing to do with the insect but more so with the girl who constantly drew it.

I had no fucking idea what happened to her sketchbook, but Bambi was now drawing on blank pieces paper and purposely leaving them everywhere.

In the kitchen, in my bathroom, on the floors, and  on every clean surface that didn't need the clutter.

I couldn't fucking take a step in my own home without running into a lose piece of paper with a unique drawing on it. The only consistently being a small little butterfly she'd draw in the corner.

Her signature.

The drawings weren't simple either. No, they were intricate and detailed. So much so, that I found myself questioning how and where the fuck she found the time to draw them.

I make my way up the stairs, into my bedroom, snatching yet another piece of paper off the desk in here before glancing down at it.

This one was of a jail cell. A fucking jail cell.

And as if the metaphor wasn't clear enough, she'd drawn a wavy haired figure in a dress behind the bars, and a large, hideous looking beast on the outside, holding a key.

She'd labeled the beast Nico.

"Maybe you should reconsider your decision to keep her here." Sammy mumbles, walking into the bedroom after me, his eyes taking in the mess of papers everywhere.

The mess that she'd fucking created.

My skin was crawling and itching to clean up, organize, anything to fix the clutter. But I wasn't giving her the satisfaction. She was trying to get to me and I'd chop my dick off before I caved.

"Not happening."

She may not be speaking to me, but that wasn't to say that she wasn't making her feelings abundantly clear.

She was pissed at me. And not just for the shit I pulled at the strip club but what came the morning after that.

I was already peeved waking up to an empty bed, so the phone call from management, telling me that I still needed to sign off on my decision to put a Josie Dumont at the top of the waiting list for the smallest unit in the blinding, didn't go over so well.

I got the message loud and clear. She was trying to move out.

Now, I may be a controlling piece of shit, but I'd never force her into anything.

I'd simply manipulate.

And I did, by putting her name on the apartment black list. Meaning the only apartment she was getting approved for - with her pitifully low budget - was something all the way in the Bronx.

She could be mad and avoid me all she wanted. But she wasn't leaving me.

"I'm confused." Sammy's voice sounds behind me but I ignore him and begin to look through my desk drawers.