Devil Addicted

chapter 33

How have I felt so comfortable with a man that uses a gun? I feel like I barely know the forlorn looking man standing above me, his eyes still look at me with adoration but I can't help but question everything. 

Even though he said it was just his Dad that used to be in the rival gang to the Baxter's, I feel like Ian is in the same gang his Dad used to be. Unless that's a lie too, maybe his Dad was never in a gang and that was just some lie? 

If he isn't in a gang then why else would he shoot someone in the leg and threaten their life if they don't do something in 3 days? Maybe he is a hitman, that just makes things worse. 

If Ian is in a gang it starts to make sense why he lives in a mansion and there are always those intimidating look men dressed in all black. Holy shit. How did I not see this sooner? But one thing I'm not entirely ready to face is fact that those gang members called Ian boss. 

Ian immediately straightens and retracts his hands and says "Angel please-"

Now he is out of reach I scramble to sit up straight and interrupt him "NO! Pl-please n-not n-now." I want to tell him we can talk another time but the tears threatening to spill out of my eyes stop me from talking. I am already a stuttering mess he doesn't get the satisfaction of seeing me cry. 

He sees the tears brimming in my eyes and again like the sight pains him his face twists in regret and he leans forward to try and comfort me. But the very action does the opposite, a tear spills and rolls down my cheek while I scramble further into the couch and away from his touch not wanting to risk talking to him again in fears he might hurt me. Even though deep down I know he would never, but maybe that is just how he manipulated me, that is why I need time to sort through the mess of my own thoughts. 

Ian lets out a deep sigh and I close my eyes tight. I hear receding footsteps and a door close, I open my eyes and see my living room empty. I quickly rush to the front door and lock it, sliding down the door and sighing "Well that was one hell of a Friday night"  wiping the tears from my cheeks

I trudge up the stairs feeling as if my mind is 5 steps behind every move I make. My body leads me to the bathroom, I don't bother unchanging and immediately step into the shower and turn on the water. The icy cold water blasts onto my face and I sigh, it slowly turns warm and I just stand there letting the water try to wash me away. 

Suddenly I feel myself getting into bed, I stop immediately shocked at how I got here. I was so busy in my own thoughts I went into autopilot mode cleaning myself up.

--the next morning--

I wake up and it feels as if the light of day blinds me. I clamber out of bed and look at myself in the mirror. I have the biggest black circles under my eyes from my restless sleep and my hair is still slightly damp as I let it tumble out of the plait I put it in.

I look in my closet and go to reach for the sweatpants and hoodie but I instead decide to dress up slightly. Maybe if I look put together and happy on the outside it will do something about my confused and muddled inside.