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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Seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn to hours, hours to days. The world kept going — changing — shifting, but I am bound in knots of betrayal, weighing my body to the abyss, the unknown. It's like I'm in a permanent daze — wandering through the garden of never-ending misery. Nothing feels real anymore.
I touch the ground under me, but my hand falls through it.
I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. My body has been on auto-pilot since the bachelor's party, trying to live in ignorance.
Mika is like a rose. A shiny, shimmering, enchanting exterior. Swaying in the wind, pro-fusing a sweet ditsy smell. It warps your mind, bending you to her will. You can't stop. That's the charm about her, but when you reach for a hug — she pierces you in the chest — in the soul...
Her love left me in shambles, pieces. The thorns etch deep into my skin until I'm leaking on the floor, and she walks away without a scratch.
Is it possible to hate and love someone at the same time? Every fiber of my existing wanted to hate Mika, wanted to get vengeance for my brother, but when I had the chance, I failed-- because I still love her. I surrendered, collapsing on my knees for a woman that betrayed me. I wanted Mika to lie, begging her to feed into my ignorance, but she didn't.
Mika killed Ander.
Mika killed Papa.
How could she rip my heart out and leave me here to gather up all the pieces? There is nothing to pick up. It's gone. There's a hollowness in my chest. I loved her with my entire soul. She owned every part of me. No one else on this fucking planet could make me feel the way she did. She does because even with all her baggage-- I want her in my arms again, even if everything was all fake.
Because a part of me likes to live in my dreams, and in my dreams, she really loved me back. It doesn't matter. Everything was real to me. The kisses, the sleepy nights, the laughs, the tears, the dates-- all real. She was my fucking world, and I was just a piece in her little game. How could she? How could she?
How do I make the pain stop?
The drugs aren't helping--they aren't enough to keep me under. Hundreds of empty baggies lay on my desk, but they have done nothing to help me. Pain. Pain. Pain. That's all I feel every second of every fucking goddamn day. Why did no one tell me how much falling in love hurts?
A wetness trickles down my lips.
My hands touch my nose.
Dark red blood stains my fingertips. I laugh. Mika acted as if she actually cared about me relapsing. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to make her feel the same pain I did. She stood in front of me, resting her forehead against the barrel with no fear in her eyes. Why didn't she move? Why didn't she fight back? Did she want to die that badly? Why did she want me to kill her? I wanted to scream and shout at her to stop, to run, but I kept the gun there.
