𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

26 : h u r t

He tilts his head, looking down at the floor before meeting my eyes. My heart shatters into a million little pieces at the way he's looking at me.

And for gods sake— even in this state, He looks so perfect I could kiss him till I loose my ability to breathe. I lost that privilege as soon as those words left my mouth. The words I certainly did not mean.

His eyes are red, his hands are shaky, hurt is written across his face. I glance at the state of his room, the pills on his nightstand.

"Are you deaf?" I laugh, feeling my heart beat faster by the second. I hate doing this to him, if it were anyone else I wouldn't give a shit. He's different, my sunshine.

"It's on the table." His voice cracks, he points to his nightstand with his head.

Oh my gosh my baby.

I forcefully roll my eyes, turning around and walking towards his nightstand. It physically hurts just looking at him.

I exhale a shaky breath, standing in front of his nightstand, giving him my back.

I glance at his pills before my eyes drop to my inhaler which I pick up. Thank god, because I wouldn't have been able to do this breathing on your own thing.

I stare into his phone that's sat perfectly on his nightstand. I actually feel my heart stop when he gets a notification.

Oh my god, his wallpaper is picture of me laughing while we were on a date— I'm smiling with my teeth, my eyes are squinted, his hand is on the side of my neck, his thumb on my jaw.

I tense when I feel something wet glide down my face. No, no, not here.

I quickly turn around, feeling my lungs close in. I make my way out of Nico's room, not bothering to even take a glance at him. I physically can't. When I close his door, it slams shut so loudly, it echos the house.

...

I cover my under eyes with concealer, staring at my figure in the mirror. I look the same— despite the slight marks on my neck and wrist from d— you know who.

I feel different.

I drop my beauty blender, walking out of my room which I don't even sleep in. I can't talk to Nico unless i'm sure my dad did something. Either way, I hurt him too many times— and he wouldn't believe me.

I didn't tell him about the video of me and nick because I'm sure he'd kill me. Do you know what makes it so sickening? Dante is so proud of what he does.

I walk out of my room, shoving my inhaler in the pocket of my sweats. I make my way downstairs, holding back the tears that brim in the corner of my eyes.

When I reach the kitchen, I find both my mom and dad— arguing. "It's nothing." I hear my dad say as I get closer. I swallow the lump in my throat, walking in.

"It's something!" She hisses, shutting the tap where my father is washing his ha— his bloody hands. But it's not his own blood, and despite the cut on his cheekbone, he's perfectly fine.

But it still worries me.

"Isa." He clears his throat, opening the tap again. "What's wrong?" I whisper weakly, gaining both their attention.