Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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Apparently, I've been wandering around the hospital with several fracture knuckles. Doctor Philip didn't even bother to shield the shock on his face as he touched every bone, and I didn't flinch an inch. I played it off by saying I have a high pain tolerance. Which is the truth. The only time I felt a glimmer of discomfort was when Asiel started crying during our kinky fuck session.
Why is he awakening these dormant godawful emotions? Things were better when I went through life feeling nothing but pride. But also a piece of me craved to create sweet, happy moments with my boyfriend. I don't know how long things will keep going my way before everything fucking blows up in my face.
Our relationship is intertwined with a time bomb, ticking to the evitable end. A day I'm starting to think I don't ever want to experience. We have an expiration date. All relationships do. Whether it's a break-up or someone dying, it all comes to an end. This is why love and happiness are all fucking pointless.
It's only a two-minute scene in a one-hundred ninety-minute movie.
A small glitch in the matrix.
A flickering light bulb.
Do I deserve to be happy even for a minute?
My thoughts evaporate into thin air as I feel an elbow bump into my arm on the armrest. Pacho blows a raspberry as he rakes his hand down his face. His light touch makes my skin crawl, itch, irritate. Just because he decided to not participate in the events that night doesn't make him any better than them. He still watched and let it happen to us. Riley is still dead because no one fought against the monarch.
The dark cloud of blame doesn't only drench his clothes. Since relieving the memories, I've been drowning under the thunderstorm from the blame cloud. Riley. Asiel. Bodies. Death. Blood. My skin is bleeding, tearing apart as the guilt carves through my skin like magic. Nothing used to affect me. Why do I suddenly feel like a piece of shit?
I think there's a fault in my code.
Pacho clears his throat. "How long do you have to wear that for?"
My eyebrows arch in confusion until I remember the splint on my hand. "Oh, about eight to twelve weeks."
"How did that happen?"
"I-um. Fell?" My voice waivers, giving my shitty lie away. "
He tips his head to the side and gives me a pointed look. "You fell?"
"Y-eah." I nibble on my lip a second before taking a steady breath. "Please refrain from overstepping boundaries. We both know no one here cares about what happens to me."
With a deep breath, he replies, "I do care. Not as much as Asiel, but I value an asset on our team. You're valuable to us. Maybe the answer to everything."
The patience on my face quickly shrinks. "Since when has your opinion of me changed? I thought I had it coming."
A hint of disbelief flashes over his face as his frame turns wooden, frozen, curling into itself. "So, you do remember that night. I-I thought you must've forgotten after acting so casual with us during the birthday dinner. You played the part perfectly."
