Alexis

Nessun Riposo per i Malvagi / Nessun Rimorso

"Why? Dammit! You had no right to get involved in any of this. Everyone told you countless amounts of times that we were taking care of everything, not you! We told—"

I cut off his rant. "If you were taking care of it why wasn't Johnny dead by now?" I quizzed. "Maybe because you all aren't. Just as I told Vincent— what's done is done. That won't be the last time— I hope you know. No amount of rants is going to change that."

Freddie rolled his eyes and sighed, aggravated. "You're fucking insufferable. I hope you know that." I hummed "mh-mmm." It only pissed him off more. "Get the fuck out of my face before I say things Imma regret," he muttered as he rubbed his face.

I rolled my eyes. "You have your own apartment. You can leave any time you want. I'm going to bed."

"Of course," he remarked. "Not even gonna clean the gun." He shook his head. "Don't worry. I'll do that," he sarcastically said but still picked up my gun.

"Thanks," I mumbled and grabbed my glass of water to take upstairs with me. "Vincent, are you coming up?" I asked him and turned around so I could see him.

"Si," he agreed. "Give me a second."

I nodded and then left. When I got to my room, I set my water down on my nightstand. I rubbed my face for a moment before I turned and walked to my bathroom. Without taking my phone for music, I closed the door. I stripped, pulled up my hair, and stepped into the shower. Unlike the showers when my dad was killed, I saw no blood on my hands. Rather, it was as if the water was baptizing me. After all, I felt as if I was God.

I got out of the shower after I washed off the body wash and face wash. I did my skincare routine and got dressed. By the time I made my way to my bed, my lights dimmed as usual with my Chinese Lanterns on and one candle burning, someone had knocked on my bed. I allowed him in, knowing it was Vincent without needing to see his face.

My lips turned into one of those polite-closed-mouth smiles that are awkwardly given to people on the streets. "Hey," I greeted as I pulled back my bed sheets. "You can take a shower if you want," I said although I was starting to feel as if I didn't need to. He's been in my room plenty of times. He should know he was allowed to use my bedroom freely. He knew what was off-limits. I mean, he had his bags in my room, which I fully allowed. I felt horrendous about what happened between him and Donna. He didn't deserve any of that, in my opinion.

Vincent nodded. "Si, bella," he said and then paused. He went to say something but stopped and pressed his lips together. He broke eye contact with me and glanced to his left. "I'll go shower," he said after a moment. I nodded as he went away into the bathroom.

I grabbed my phone and crawled into bed. Kyle texted me. He's such a sweet boy. He asked me how therapy was and about my day. I kept my answers simple. Didn't go, work and I got my nails done, red. All simple. I felt that if I went into detail, it could bite me in the ass. It could lead to me going to jail. Not that I care too much about that but I kinda did. A large part of me, on quiet nights that I laid in bed, wanted a child. Multiple. Children. I wish I never miscarried [HAD a miscarriage, for Kyle's sake]. I wanted a daughter. I wanted a son. I wanted a kid. So fucking badly.

You'd never be a good mother.

Tonight was one of those quiet nights. I was in my head. My phone was put away. The only sound was the little (and big) voices in my head. Fuck— I really wanted a baby. I knew if I got caught for doing what I did, I'd go away for a long time. A long time. Time that couldn't be

(~)

replaced. Time that precious. Time, of which I had more with my dad.

I closed my eyes when they started to burn. I sighed, chanting to myself to keep it together. Longing was hammering in my chest. I hope my dad saw what went down tonight. I hope he's happy. I hope he feels justified.