War

Chapter Eighteen

A/N - here we go...

TW - this chapter is triggering, heavy and upsetting, containing themes of depression, self harm, and mentions of suicidal thoughts- if you don't feel comfortable reading then please skip this chapter ❤️

~~~

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
Aniyah
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Sundays were one of the only days I could do absolutely nothing and not feel guilty about it.

I'd stolen some shorts and a t-shirt from Marco, the entire outfit swallowing me whole as I moved around the kitchen; the both familiar and comforting smell of peppermint filling the air as I prepared some avocado for my husband's toast.

While Marco usually insisted he could make his own breakfast, he seemed anything but here today. He was in the room, sure, but he appeared to be looking through everything this morning- even me.

"I was thinking", he blinked, deep green eyes meeting mine and focusing slightly, "do you think it's weird that my father hadn't contacted me once since the wedding?". That was over a month ago now, and I couldn't help but think this was the confirmation I needed to show that he actually didn't care about me.

"Do you think it's weird?", he answered my question with a question and my lips lifted upwards as I placed his peppermint tea in front of him.

"I mean, he always made me feel like I was invisible anyway", I looked away from him, swallowing, "so no, probably not". I'd answered my own question, he only gave a shit about his work- probably couldn't wait to get rid of me.

"You're not invisible", he told me seriously, hand squeezing his mug tighter, "anyone who believes otherwise deserves to have the life drained from them slowly". Sure the analogy was slightly chilling, but I knew violence was Marco's way of showing he cared, so I appreciated it completely.

"Do you wanna tell me what's bothering you?", I asked him, watching him cock his head to the side a little, "you've been quiet since we got up".

"Aren't I always quiet?", he raised an eyebrow to which I chuckled, he wasn't exactly wrong.

"Touché", I nodded, placing a heap of smashed avocado on one slice of toast with my back facing him, "but if you did wanna talk...". I trailed off, briefly turning to him to wave a hand; silence filled the room as I continued with the task at hand, assuming he didn't want to go into detail, or give me any explanation to begin with.

Baby steps, Niyah.

"We're sitting Ezekiel down today, in an attempt to urge him to get the help he needs", he revealed after at least two minutes of silence, I looked at him and my gaze softened...of course he was worried about Zeke.

I know Marco was painted out to be some villain, a sadistic man who was only valuable when it came to violence, but the side I'd seen to him for over a month now was anything but. He loved his brothers more than life itself, carried more scars on his body than anyone should ever have to carry, had lost his mother before he became a teenager...he was human just like everyone else.

And it pained me to think that people thought differently.

"Do you want me to make myself scarce?", I asked with a weak smile, understanding that this was probably something they wanted to do as a family. And although I knew Eli had said it in the heat of the moment, I had only been here five minutes, I didn't want to intrude on something as personal and sensitive as this.