#𝟑 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘
𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀 : She claimed to hate him, but for what reason? She went around with a "bitchy" personality, not wanting people to see through her. Her life was slowly crumbling into pieces, but he was always there to...
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"I didn't raise you to hide things from me." My mother whispers, her hands tangled in my hair. I lay on my bed, I don't know how long I've been laying there— but it felt as if it were forever.
I shut my eyes tightly at my mom's words, feeling my tears fall onto the pillow. "I'm sorry." I choke out,
"You can feel a lot of things, but don't ever let the word 'sorry' tangle with your emotions, Lin." My mom's voice has always been comforting, so has her words.
I flutter my eye lids open, looking up at her with teary eyes. "I was just scared, but I was never used to that feeling, so it worsened." My voice shatters.
"And then," I bite the inside of my cheek to distract myself. "I said things to Nico I never meant, only because— Dante didn't make me, but if I didn't he would've," I cut myself off, just the thought of what he would've done sickens me.
"I know sweetheart," she whispers, her voice low— hurt. "I just wish you would've told me." the pain that coats her voice kills me.
"I'm gonna come running to you like a child when someone breathes near me." I laugh a painful laugh, leaning my cheek against her hand.
She smiles, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. Her free hand plays with my hair while the silence takes over.
I open my mouth to interrupt the comforting silence. "Where's dad?" I ask in a tired tone, feeling my body physically hurt.
My mom doesn't bother replying, she shrugs, exhaling a breath. "I don't know, he refused to talk to me. He left with a gun and a blade." Her voice is laced with worry.
When both my parents came downstairs which they were probably told by Lana— my dad had beaten up Dante's dead body even if it did nothing.
I was already at loss of oxygen even with my inhaler.
This had all happened earlier today.
...
I woke up to my throbbing hand that isn't stitched or even taken care of. I'm pretty sure we have everything I need downstairs in the kitchen drawer.
Only because dahlia is always scrapping her knee whilst playing outside, so she's always crying for bandages, hence why my mom keeps everything in the kitchen drawers.
I get up with a low grunt when I press down on the bruise on my upper thigh. The rest don't hurt, it's just that one in particular.
It's dark so I can't possibly see the deep cut on my palm, I just know it isn't pretty at all.
I slowly walk out of my room with zero energy. My head hurts, my hand hurts, my thigh hurts, my heart hurts. But the difference is, the pain in my heart is nowhere near physical.
