My Valentine's Virus

Level 12: Zone_Warden

The charges against EctoPhantom have him imprisoned for five years and a fine of $250,000. The news headline flashes across my screen, hitting me with a force I didn't anticipate.

The weight of my guilt and pity has me leaning back in my computer chair. Maybe it's the genuine possibility that I could face similar charges once Princess recovers, adding to the weight of the impactful news. She might hold off on it now, considering I brought her back to the land of the living. But with that girl, you never know.

Despite not knowing how to swim, she still adapted, nearly besting me in our race and risking her life just to prove she could. As charming as her obsession with victory is, she's a major security risk—a risk I can't afford to play with anymore.

I sigh again, as my heart and mind tilt on a scale for the millionth time since her incident. An incident forcing me to face my emotions. I'm into her, and it scares me. I've been obsessed since she gunned me down online, and I was forced to look into her. Rage aside, there's no one else like her.

I recline, assessing my inner battle since Abbie's incident. I'd prefer handling Melanie on my own, but that's easier said than done, considering our history.

Whatever we had wasn't real—no. Not like those lovey-dovey ones romantics fawn over in movies or books. It was a placeholder to impress my father's business crowd.

After he orchestrated it behind my back with her mother, Opal, leaving no room for disagreement. Dad was blessed with the opportunity to introduce his beloved son, who had a shiny blonde at his side.

I still remember the meeting at a previous gala. The younger me picked up everything there was to know about her at first glance. Over the years, her company had as much spice to it as milk.

She clung to me like a shower curtain. I'm not saying her unhinged grippy sock mentality wasn't cute, but she had no substance beyond her narrow obsession with her looks and tendency to judge strangers' bodies every other minute. It got old.

I didn't tell my father beforehand how I was going to break up with her. I knew exactly what his reaction would be—he'd disown me. And that's exactly what he did. But foolish me had a sliver of hope that he'd get it.

Recalling the nightmarish moment that keeps me up at night, the scars on my chest throb. I exhale a drag from my cigarette, allowing the wonderful plant to do its thing and soothe my nerves.

In hindsight, maybe breaking up with Melanie during a couple's cooking lesson wasn't the brightest idea.

We were stirring pots side by side in silence, and I struggled to explain how she was draining the life out of me. You know that old saying? It's like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"Don't forget to add the oregano—" she whispered, barely audible, before I interrupted her.

"We should break up," I affirm, my jaw tightening to secure my tone's seriousness.

"...Because of the oregano...?" Her face paled, and she kept a long gaze on me as if pressing me for an explanation that didn't need further analysis.

The air was otherworldly dense, and it felt like all eyes were on us. I didn't care. I was miserable and hated every second with her. It was like breathing in poison, but I took the reins of my life back and broke the curse.

"No. I'm just done," I uttered.

I'm good at reading people before they open their mouths. Only 30% of what we say is verbal; the rest is conveyed through body language and expressions. So, I wasn't surprised when her entire body stiffened. Hurt filled her piercing red eyes, a sight I wouldn't want on my worst enemy. But I was drowning in misery with only one way out.