Hearts Divided: A Mafia Love Triangle Volume 1

Chapter 29 - Scarlett

I gazed at her intently, unsure of her intentions. Does she still have feelings for Cain?

"It was fine," I quickly replied.

She scoffed, her back turned towards me as she gazed out at the endless expanse of the ocean. "Don't concern yourself with me. I've already been with him," she declared, seemingly unconcerned about how her words might affect me. "It was ages ago," she added, as if anticipating my thoughts.

"What happened between you two? Why did things end?", I couldn't help but ask, even though I didn't want to know the answer.

She faced me and spoke softly, "There was never anything between us," she explained. "It's best if he tells you himself. It's not hard for me to do it, but it's better coming from him." She sat down beside me and pulled out a joint from her bag. "I want you to understand that any teasing or joking between us is innocent. There are no hidden meanings behind it."

She sparked her joint, inhaling slowly, while I observed in silence.

"Why did you cut your arms?" she asked, and suddenly I felt like I was back under Eric's intense questioning.

I hesitated to respond. The question was too personal, and only two individuals were aware of the details.

"I was going through a really bad time," I told her quickly, trying to change the subject, but she wouldn't let me.

"Those tattoos are meant to cover the scars?" Liz continued.

"No," I replied simply. The questions were getting more and more personal, and I felt cornered. Not even my mother was curious to ask about what happened to me. She didn't make any phone calls, let alone visits. Apart from my ex-fiancé, only my sister came to visit.

As I sat in the chair, I couldn't help but wonder how many others had been in this exact spot before me. People with real struggles and mental health issues, not someone like me. Despite countless hours of therapy, there was still no noticeable progress. I couldn't bring myself to see my past experiences as traumatic; after all, others had endured far worse. While some had lost their loved ones in unimaginable ways, I had simply attempted suicide because I couldn't marry the man I loved.

I couldn't shake off my mother's words as I overheard her talking through Hazel's phone. She accused me of pretending yet again. This wasn't the first time; she had always dismissed my pain, sickness, and even self-infliction as mere attention-seeking behavior. She blamed me for taking away my father's affection that she craved for herself. I resented her deeply for it. In our last argument, right before I moved out of that hellhole, I screamed at her that I never wanted to be born. She made a point to remind me that she wanted a child without any extraordinary abilities. It was something I had suspected since my teenage years, but I refused to admit it until that moment.

My Mother despised those who possessed these abilities—not because she lacked them, but because she believed all superpowers were superior to her own lightning bolts. She found those with the power of fire, like my father, to be particularly intimidating.

I couldn't help but miss him, and I felt guilty that he was still stuck spending time with her. When I left home, he was the only one who seemed truly heartbroken, especially since our parting was not exactly amicable. While we never had a chance to reunite, he did try to reach out a few more times before eventually going silent. But every year on my birthday, right at midnight, I would receive a message of well wishes, and somehow I knew it was from my dad, even though the number would always be different.

I long to see him, but I know he would be disappointed to find his daughter confined in a mental institution. Would he even recognize me with my tangled hair and the profound sadness etched into my face? The staff has limited what I can have in my room since my suicide attempt, so my appearance is far from its usual state. My weight has dropped drastically "thanks" to my Mother's opinions.