Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗠om.
Matteo.
Enzo.
Chloe.
Damien.
Hell, even Christian in a way.
How many more people did she have to lose in one lifetime for her to reach a break? How many more people had to betray her, love her the wrong way, or wrongfully be ripped from her grasp without a single explanation for her to be offered an open door to a free life? It was like every corridor held a surprise and underneath each decorated box top was another someone she shouldn't have been forced to say goodbye to.
Rayne listened to the sound of her shoes as she continued down the hallway of the second floor of the hospital. Her eyes did not peel from the linoleum tiles as she reached the staircase; even descending, lost in a trance, she had no idea what to feel. Normally, a dissociation all too familiar with what she was feeling right now was an out for her—a way to configure her thoughts without having to put too much strain on her heart.
That coping mechanism she relied on too damn often was now failing her.
Much like everything else in her life.
As she reached the first-floor landing and headed for the automatic doors to the parking lot, a voice behind her called out to her. Or so she thought. Her feet kept marching, nevertheless; much too afraid to turn around and see the ghosts of her past and former present lingering. She hadn't even gotten to process what happened to her secretary—nor the celebration that came in the form of engagement bands—before a person like a father to her bid his part from this world.
What am I supposed to feel?
What is going to happen now?
How many more people will she willingly put in harm's way, all while claiming ignorance? How many more people dear to her heart will submit to the dirt—placed underneath layers of fertilized shit—for her to realize that she is the problem?—that if she was smarter, more intelligent, stronger—they'd be okay? How. Many. More?
"Rayne!" a hand grabbed her upper arm as the voice cleared in her ears.
She spun on her heel, surprised to see Rueben standing behind her, slightly winded, holding onto her like she was crazy for walking away. Cocking her head to the side, she asked a question without her words, displeased to see a waft of his blonde hair shift with his own displeasure.
"Where are you going?" he asked, breathing normally now.
"Home."
"Do you want to talk?"
"Talk about what?"
He straightened up and moved his hand from her arm to her shoulder, placing his second one on her other one at the same time, angling her toward him. The shield she was putting up between reality and fiscality was beginning to crack under the pressure of his green eyes—so smooth with concern. So absorbed with love and consideration.
