Affairs Of The Heart

✔ T R E N T A O T T O

Chapter 38

Luca's Pov

It hurt, it really did.

It was an excruciating pain like I'd never felt before. It was a pain worse than that of a bullet to the chest or even a stab to the gut.

It felt as if she had ripped, no, torn my heart from my chest and discarded as if it was gum that had lost its flavor leaving me demolished and soulless. I wanted to scream, to destroy everything in my path, I wanted.....to have her back.

I tip my head back, watching the swirls of colors which explode behind my closed lids. The burning copper liquid gliding down my throat, doing absolutely nothing to ease the pain but doing much to numb my unbridled emotions.

I should have gone after her, I should have tried harder. Instead, I let her leave, I let her slip from my fingers yet again.

But, how could I have stopped her? She made up her mind, I could have seen the promise, the determination in those dark chocolatey brown eyes. There was no way of swaying her.

There it is that now familiar pang in the space my heart used to belong.

I rake my hands through my hair for the millionth time, my fingers becoming entangled in the disheveled mess. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I try to keep a hold on my emotions. Cazzo, who was I kidding I wasn't the one in the driver's seat anymore.

I lift the bottle to my lips again, downing its contents like the last few bottles. I grimace slightly as it burns its way down to my stomach. I enjoy the pain though, it distracts me momentarily from everything.

Letting my eyes flutter open, they flicker around the gloomy depressed and mostly destroyed study. I push my self off the floor, staggering to my feet. I make my way over to the liquor cabinet which is going to run dry soon enough.

Fuck, when I crash I'm gonna crash hard.

Feeling around for another bottle, I grab a crystal-like bottle of vodka. Uncapping it, I waste no time in raising it to my lips. Scrunching my nose up in disgust at the horrid cheap taste, I purse my lips.

Now I know why it was at the very back of the liquor cabinet.

Making my drunkard way over to the couch, my eyes catch sight of the phone I'd abandoned. It lays undisturbed in the remains of what used to be my desk. Bending at the waist, I pick it from the rubble with a snort.

Plopping down on the couch, I grasp the phone in my right hand, my bottle of vodka in the other as I deliberate whether to call her or not.

Oh, fuck it.

Taking a shot of liquid courage, I dial the number I have come to know like the back of my hand. Raising the phone to my ear, I listen and wait, wait to hear her sweet melodious voice, hoping just to hear a simple utter from those perfect plump lips even if it was her telling me to 'fuck off'.

But, she doesn't pick up and on the last ring, I feel myself crumble, even more, that single betraying tear falls from my eye without my consent as that bursting pain blossoms into a full-scale hurricane.

"Stupido." I curse myself lowly as I toss the phone carelessly away.

I didn't understand it yet at the same time I did, that old saying 'If you love something you have to set it free and if it came back it was yours to keep.'