Tolerate it.

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Note:

This chapter may be disturbing to some readers as it contains references to abuse, curses, and various forms of physical violence. If you are uncomfortable, please skip

[ :* ]

It was time to go home. As soon as they returned to their homes it was already nighttime. Y/n who was still constantly terrified of her father's presence, shut herself away in her room, refusing to face him.

"Y/n." her father knocked on her door. "I'm going to barge in there if you won't open the goddamn door." he added making you stand and open the door.

"Hola papa." you greeted him as he entered the room and locked the door making your heart race and breathing hitch.

"Look," he lets out a big sigh " don't make this hard for me, we will go home after the party tomorrow." he adds.

"No, papa. I don't want to." you protest. 

"Is it because of that Madrigal boy? Look at him, flirting with that girl he's with after announcing you're his so-called novia." he raised his voice and gripped your chin harshly to the direction where Camilo was laughing with someone with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, tears welled up in the corners of your eyes.

"Not just that Madrigal boy." you looked up meeting your father's eyes. 

"The people here? They do not even hit or curse at me." Your legs moved unconsciously, bringing you to your father.

"Tío Felix can't even lift a finger on Dolores no matter how big or small her mistakes are." you hit his chest with your fist.

"Tío Agustin listens to his daughters' problems and consoles them." you hit him again, raising your voice.

"Abuelo can't even raise his voice at mama." You didn't care who heard your and your father's argument. You wanted to rip your heart out of your chest because it hurt so much.

"I used to believe that the way you treated me was how fathers were supposed to treat and raise their children. That's why I've grown accustomed to it and let you be. I even let you express your grief over Mama's death to me. Though it felt wrong to receive bruises from my own father." You wiped your tears away, irritated by the fact that they didn't stop falling.

" I let you be, papa. Because I knew you were having a hard time." you added. You heard your grandparents enter the room, your Abuela held both of your arms.

"And Camilo..." you felt your teeth grit. "He's not someone you can just call that Madrigal boy." you glared at your father who was trying to find the right words to say. 

You were sick of dismissing your own feelings for the sake of the pleasure of others. You kept it bottled up for all these years, your childhood thrown away. You spent it trying to fill the void left in your father's heart by your mother's death. He blamed it all on you. He blamed you for everything. And you believed him, and that is why you let him treat you to his liking.

"He taught me how to live. "

And with that, you pulled your hands harshly out of your grandmother's grip and ran downstairs. As soon as you opened the front door, you were greeted by the last person you wanted to see at this moment.

"Amor?" his smile had faded, and his eyes were filled with worry. He wished he could wipe the tears from your cheeks. But before he had the chance, you ran away.

The image of him laughing with someone else impacted the pain you were facing at the moment. It was, in fact, more painful than the anguish your father had inflicted on you. Seeing your beloved in the arms of someone else. You've always doubted yourself if you could ever make him happy or if you're good enough for him. The scene you saw tonight had answered those questions.

Run away.

Why am I running away....

Again?

"I'm as fragile as glass", you thought to yourself running. 

"And if loving him hurts this much, I'll pick myself up piece by piece and reassemble. I'd rather lose myself than lose him." you accidentally voiced out. As your knees gave up making you fall on the grass. You sat there and cried.

"querida?"




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