A/N: sorry if this chapter is a little long.
R E G I N A
One of the nights I'm able to sleep peacefully, something happens. At around 2:30 am, gunshots were heard inside the house making me shoot up from my slumber. It must have woken the whole house.
The boys
I quickly get out of bed but stop when I notice Ambrose is still asleep. Not so peacefully, however. How did this man manage to sleep through all of this? "Ambrose" I whisper, when my attempt to shake him doesn't work. "Ambrose, wake up. We're under attack." I try again a little more aggressively. His brows knit together in confusion and agony.
Fuck. C'mon. We don't have time for this. Baby, please.
I try once more in a calming tone. "Ambrose. Baby, wake up." Finally, his eyes shot open, they're panicked. I wait until the realization crosses his features before going to my side of the bed and grabbing my gun from the nightstand drawer, Him doing the same. Before we could even make it past the foot of the bed, the door burst open, and in walks the Malibu Barbie-built blond bitch. A nasty smirk is plastered across her face. We both raise our guns to our little rodent problem.
"Amber? What the fuck do you think you're doing here? What did I tell you would happen if I saw your face on my property again?" Ambrose growls from behind me. The slut dares to step forward. "I came to get you back. Can you really just give up what we had for this trash?" She asks flirtatiously.
This bitch needs to be put down.
I glance back at Ambros to see him already gazing at me. He steps forward, his fuming gaze never leaving mine. Once he reaches me, his unoccupied hand finds my waist while his other is still trained on Barbie's head. "Deal with her. I'll check on everyone else. Keep her alive." He whispers in my ear before placing a quick kiss on my lips and leaving, shooting daggers at the thing on his way out. I hadn't noticed until now how quiet the house has gotten. I don't think she's noticed either.
This should be fun.
I'm a little shocked it didn't follow him out of the room. "If you think he'll ever love you, or fall for you, you're very delusional. He's mine. He'll always be mine, so stop trying." She hisses. Her overly fake body slithers toward me. An intimidation technique, maybe? Who knows. "Oh, honey. Do you think I tried to get him to fall for me? All I had to do was breathe the right way, and I had him on his knees." I tell her smirking. Her wicked grin finally fades as her hand reaches for something in her pocket.
A shiny black blade is whipped out and sits incorrectly in her hand. "You think I won't kill you, you ugly little fag?" How did she know? "Does Ambrose know you like to go both ways? Does he know you bisexual, disgusting little faggot?" Okay, she's starting to piss me off now. "Does he know how you manage to lure in your female victims? Does he know you made out with them? Does he know you enjoyed it?" I notice her getting closer to me the more she talks. How clueless.
I was going to let her have the easy way and knock her out, but her next words made me want to rip her head off with my teeth. "What was her name by the way? Macie? She was a sweet girl. Why did you kill such an angel? How old was she again? 17? Still so young." She takes one final step towards me, and I take that opportunity to knock the knife out of her hand and grab her by her throat.
"Listen here, you whore. You know NOTHING about me." I squeeze her neck making her gasp and claw at my hands. "You think you have power? You have no idea whose hands your life is in right now. I am going to say this once and once only so listen closely." I pull her toward me so she can feel my breath. "I am your worst nightmare. They don't call me shadow for no reason. If I didn't want you to know about those murders, you wouldn't know. I have all the power in the world. You are just an ant being crushed by her prey. I should kill you now, but I was asked politely not to." I let her go and kicked her to the ground before spitting my next words. "And if you ever threaten his feelings for me or min for him, you'll have two fewer eyeballs." With that I sent a hard blow to her head, knocking her out cold.
Just as I finished, Ambrose re-enters the room, observing the scene. "Everyone's fine. The boys are on the other side of the house, safe." I let out a breath of relief and then scan him for any injuries. He looks fine other than the cuts and bruises on his face, along with the gash on his left side. "Let's get you cleaned up." I him, escorting him to the bathroom after he calls some guards to get Amber from the room.
He sits on the toilet seat, and I watch as he pulls off his shirt. Tattoos and old scars litter his chest and torso. He has the body of a Greek god. Kind of ironic. "First aid?" I ask, looking for the little red box. "Under the sink, left side." he mumbles. I look under the sink and sure enough, there is a big red and white first aid kit. Walking over to him, I can see him paling. He's lost too much blood. "Hang in there for me. I just got to stitch this up, and we're done." I assure him.
His nod is faint but there. I off with cleaning his wound the best I could without hurting him, which was surprisingly easy. This man's pain tolerance is incredible. Next, I take out the suture kit and thread the needle. In case it does hurt, I give him a warning, then began suturing his cut. At first, his face scrunches up in agony, but he quickly gets used to it and relaxes. I finally finished around five minutes later and wrapped his torso with gauze and medical tape. "All done."
"You wanna go check on the boys? They must be terrified right now." He mumbles. His eyes are cold as he looks past me. "Yeah. I want to see them. This has ne-"
I loud crash followed by yells and screams interrupts my sentence. My hand stops and Ambrose's head shoots up in alert. He quickly throws on a shirt and races downstairs me following closely behind. The first floor is in absolute chaos. Amber managed to get free of the guards somehow and now has a gun in her hand. A bloody female guard, who I recognize to be one of mine, is being held at gunpoint.
They really can't take an unconscious, harmless 115lbs woman to the Art Studio? I mean they are 3x her size. What the actual fuck?
"Amber, sweetie. Stop with the dramatics. Do you always have to be the center of attention?" Jay says from behind me. I could hear his deep footsteps approaching from a mile away. He stops on the other side of me, the side Ambrose isn't on, with a tired and sarcastic smirk. "You know if you weren't such a fake ass bitch, I would smash." He speaks again, stepping toward her.
Me too.
The rest of the family aside from Iris and the boys are now in the living room aiming guns at Voldemort. She's surrounded by guns and, apparently, highly trained soldiers. "Listen, wannabe Kim K, I know all those implants and injections are getting to your head right now, but I need you to put the gun down before you hurt yourself." I speak. Both Ambrose and Jay let out an involuntary laugh but quickly cover it up with a cough or sneeze.
"I-if you don't drop your guns, I'll shoot her. Right here" I don't think anyone took her seriously when she said that. As bad as I wanted to laugh in her face at this moment, I didn't. I kept my poker face. Jay, however, is a total fucking idiot and burst out into belly-clenching laughter. Amber doesn't like this one bit. She attempts to pull the trigger but is disappointed when nothing happens. She tries again, and again and again, yet nothing.
Thanks to me, and my beautiful tech leader, those guns only work with a specific handprint or DNA. If anyone were to use them without the right hand or blood or piece of DNA that's programmed into the gun, it wouldn't work. I know I'm smart.
After attempting, and failing, repeatedly, Cris and I finally decided to strut over to the dumbass piece of plastic. "Are you playing around or are you actually just that fucking dumb?" She growls and snatches the gun from Amber's hand. And I knock her out again, this time she hits her head on the hardwood floors, which leads blood to pool around her head. Cris bends down and puts two fingers on Amber's neck to make sure she's alive. She is.
Damn it.
"Marco, Angelo, and Louis. Take her to the art studio. Try not to fuck it up this time please?" I order my guards. They nod and proceeded to pick her up and take her downstairs. A surprised yawn escapes my lips. It's been a long night. I turn around and find that it's just Ambrose and me. Everyone else has dispersed to do their own thing. "Where are the twins? I want to see them before I go back to bed." I ask Ambrose.
I need to come up with a nickname for him. Knite maybe? Cause of his middle name... Nahhh.
Without a word, he leads me to the west wing of the house. It's dark and quiet, it almost looks abandoned. "Turn to the left at the end of the hall. They'll be in the first door to the left." I say before walking out, or at least trying to.
I stop him before he can get any further. "You should come with me. They would want you there too." I quietly say.
He hesitantly turns to face me, his expression cold and distant. "No, I don't want to interfere with your time with them. I'm gonna check the rest of the house and go back to bed. Goodnight." With that, he turns back around and walks away.
Okay?...
Shrugging it off, I follow the directions Ambrose gave me and enter the room. The lights are off leaving the room pitch black. I can't even see my own hand in front of my face. "Boys? Boys, it's Mama. Can you turn on the light for me?" I whisper. I hear a bit of shuffling before a light is switched on and my two little boys are standing in front of me. When they see me, They both crash into my legs.
"Mama. We were so scared. What happened? Why did Aunty Iris bring us here?" Enzo asks. His voice is raspy like he's been crying for hours. "I know you were scared, baby. There were bad men in the house. Iris brought you to this side of the house to keep you safe. But everything's fine now. Nothing is going to hurt you. Ever." I hug them tightly. Mateo has been unusually quiet and when I look at him, I realize why.
Blood stains his grey shirt. "Teo. Teo, baby what happened? Are you hurt?" I ask him. His grip on me loosens and he starts to lose balance. "Mama. I'm tired." He says weakly. I pull away from him to Inspec him. Lifting up his shit I'm met with a gunshot wound. The worst part is, it looks fresh. Like 'thirty seconds before I entered the room' fresh.
There's someone still here. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement coming from outside the window. My head whips in that direction and I lock eyes with a hooded figure. They're not that tall, maybe 5'8. Slim build, I can't tell if they're male or female because, in the blink of an eye, they're gone.
Shit
"Boys get d-" Before I could warn them, a bullet pierces Lorenzo's leg. He howls in pain as the burning bullet sits in his leg.
I didn't hear a gunshot. They must be using silencers. Who are these assholes? Why would they target a seve-. No. They're targeting me. Using Enzo to get to me.
Motherfuckers.
I tug Mateo and Lorenzo out of that room and race as fast as I can to the hospital wing of the house and call Ambrose once I'm there. He picks up on the last ring. "What!?" He growls. I don't have time to dwell on his rude tone. "Ambrose, there's another shooter on the perimeter. They shot Teo and Enzo. I'm in the Medical wing and nurses are attending to them, but I don't know who it could be." I told him in a hurry. I hear rustling on the other side of the line before it goes dead.
What the hell? Did he just hang up on me?
Not even two minutes later, the door burst open, and in walks Ambrose, looking frantic and concerned. "What happened?" He asks. After filling him in on everything we exit the exam room where the twins are being helped and enter the waiting room. I sit in a chair in the far corner of the room and Ambrose sits a whole three seats down.
There's an awkward silence encasing the room. Nobody makes a move to talk to one another, and eventually, I can't take it anymore. "How is your cut?" He doesn't look at me or in my general direction when he mutters a 'fine' under his breath. I try again. "What time is it? It must be late, and you must be tired." Same dry-ass response. "Around 3:30 am."
I'm getting tired of him now.
I decide to stay quiet for a few minutes, but my adrenaline-filled ass couldn't stay quiet for more than three minutes. "What is wrong with you?" I finally question, attempting to break the tension. I failed. He looks at me coldly. "Nothing's wrong. Why would you think somethings wrong?" He mentions sarcastically.
Wow. What the fuck did I do?
"Well first off, you're being distant. Physically and emotionally. You won't even look me in the eyes. What the hell is wrong with you?" I almost shout. I'm fed up with him. He turns to face me completely, anger dripping off his features. "I heard what Amber said. About that seventeen-year-old girl. You're asking me what's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?"
I. Am. Livid. Who the hell does he think he is to say some shit like that and then shut me out? He has some nerve.
"First of all, you are such an asshole for believing what came out of that wrench's mouth! Secondly, you didn't even talk to me or ask me if it was true! You just assumed that I would rape and kill the girl! Listen to what I'm saying! Why would I touch her without consent with all that I've been through!? Who do you think I am!? Third, I didn't do all that shit! But you wouldn't believe me right!? You would just assume the worst! You would take the word of your whore over your so-called 'girlfriend'."
I didn't let him speak before I stood and headed for the door. Before I left, I turned just enough to see his face. "Tell someone to let me know when they're done. I don't want anything to do with you until I've calmed down." And with that, I walked out.
===============================================
A half-hour later, Eddie, Ambrose's personal doctor, joins me in the living room. "Hey," He says, sitting down on the couch next to me. "The boys are fine. I put the under anesthesia. It'll keep them out for a few hours. The bullets didn't hit anything vital." He finishes but stays. I don't look at him, but I can feel his warming gaze on the side of my face. "You should get some sleep. You need it. You will feel much better when you wake up." He says softly. I reluctantly turn my head to face him. And then when I notice some of his smaller features. The small specks of brown swirling in his light brown eyes, the scars along his face-one on his left eyebrow and one on his upper lip that make him look like he's been through something, and the small wrinkles that litter him have confirmed his old age. He seems so clear now.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll go get some sleep. Thank you, Eddie." I acknowledge him while standing. I tread up the stairs and, by habit, to Ambrose's room, but stop in my tracks. I'm still mad at him. I quickly turn around and go to my room, shutting the door and drifting off.
~Dream/Flashback~
"Hey, I haven't seen you around you much. You new here?" I know, classic and cheesy, but it seemed to work on her. She's going with it. "Yeah. I moved here last week. My friends brought me out to have fun." She says. "How old are you sweetheart?"
Ugh, I feel like every pedophile ever lived.
She smiles at me. She doesn't look older than maybe twenty. "I'm nineteen. How old are you?" Should I tell her my real age or makeup something? "Twenty" I answer honestly. Her flirtatious smirk never fades, and she sways her way to me. "Then let's go have some fun." She giggles and pulls me out from the crowd and by the bathrooms.
Her silver, ass length, dress raises with every step she takes. The matching silver heels click against the hardwood floors as we enter the woman's bathroom. Her smirk is now a full-blown grin, and her hands are all over me. My gold mid-thigh length silk dress lies loosely on my body, and I ditched my heels in the hallway, leaving my bare feet on the cool floor.
Her lips smash into mine in a terrible slimy kiss. When she pulls away, her breath brushes my nose. Telling me she's had maybe one or two drinks. "Have you ever eaten someone out before?" She whispers, killing my nostrils more than she did before. I nod answering her question.
Without another word, she walks over to the wall and lifts her dress, showing nothing under, but her sex laying bare and in the open. I turn around and lock the door before getting on my knees in front of her saying a silent prayer-knowing damn well I'm an atheist-to whoever is listening and latching my mouth onto her pussy.
~Two minutes later~
She lasted a few seconds then I knocked her out. Before she did, however, she told me about my target: Gorgia McGee. Twenty-two years of age. Moved here to Jacksonville when she was twelve with her parents and younger sister. A junior in college at Jacksonville University, majoring in business.
Basic
I left her passed-out body in one of the stalls, fixed my makeup, and continued with my mission. As I walked out of the bathroom, I find my shoes lined up neatly by the door. 'How did these get here?' I think to myself. Someone must have put them here, but if they did, it means they didn't get far. I pick up one of my shoes to put on and under it, I find a small piece of paper.
Looking around, all I see are drunk couples making out on the wall, and smell the stench of vomit and alcohol.
"Looking for me?" An unknown feminine voice says from behind me. I slowly turn to see none other than Gorgia McGee standing firm with a gun pointed at my head.
"What do you think you're doing? Put the gun down." I lull. She doesn't pose a threat to me, but she does to all these innocent bystanders who are too drunk to know their own names. "Why? Are you scared that I'll kill you?" She tries to intimidate me but she's failing.
Miserably. "Oh, honey. You can't kill me. Do you want to know why?" I don't let her answer. "Because before you can even argue with what I'm about to say your throat will be slit and you will be choking on your own blood, begging for me to help you. Then, your dead body will drop to the floor. And I'll walk out of here untouched." I tell her with a sick grin on my face.
Her face morphs from one of bravery to one of cowardice. The gun shakes in her hand but quickly tries to redeem herself by lunging for me. Stupid girl. I pull out my knife and slit her throat while she's in mid-air.
She could have just shot me, and all of this would have been avoided. I would be dead, she would be alive, her boss/boyfriend fucks her into oblivion, and she goes on with her life. But no. She had to be an absolute dumbass and leap for me like she's a fucking frog and look where it's gotten her. Lying on the floor seconds away from the end of her life. I didn't even have to do much, but then again, I'm only getting paid one hundred thousand dollars.
She should be dead by now. I look down upon her unmoving body. Yep. She's dead.
Mission Complete
I look around to make sure no one saw that. Of course, they didn't. Drunk idiots. Shrugging, I up the note from the ground along with my shoes and the bar. My matte black BMW I8 sits beautifully across the street with bragging teens huddled up around it. "Yeah, it's mine. I modified it myself. You like what you see?" A young boy says, quite confidently, to a young girl who's gushing over him. "Yeah. It is. Can I see the inside?" The boy's face falls.
I love this part.
He stammers and fumbles over his words. "W-well I... I wouldn't... Y- I- The interior just got cleaned and... y'know, I wouldn't want anyone or anything to mess it up. Y-Y'know?" The poor boy's freaking out. I should 'help him'. He leans against the car the girl following close behind, the bodies don't even touch the car before I press a little button to turn on the car.
They quickly jump back, screaming and yelling. "You shouldn't brag about a car that isn't yours." I tell the shocked teen. Their eyes trail my body then the car. The girl's eyes don't stray from me, however. "Don't even think about it. I'm probably way too old for you. How old are you, seventeen?" I ask the gaping girl. She looks offended for a second but quickly covers it up. "No. I'm eighteen. How old are you, Twenty?" I like her. I send her a wink before climbing in the car and driving past the couple. Both gaping at either my boobs or my car.
After a long thirty-minute drive, I make it to my private airport, my jet waiting for me. The pilots stand professionally off to the side of the plane and bow when I pass. I want nothing more than to get home and kiss my kids. I've been away from home long enough and I'm sure they are sick of my dad and Cristos.
Some hours later, I was safely in Chicago. Now all that's left is a two-hour drive back home. Ugh. I hate traveling. As I lay my hand on the window to drift off to sleep, an irritating ringing of a phone cuts me off. Assuming it was just no one important, I decline the call, but it immediately began ringing again.
I don't bother checking the caller ID as I pick it up and bring it to my ear. "What!?" I growl. A low chuckle is heard on the other side of the line. "Is that any way to talk to your creator?" He patronizes. I know that voice anywhere. He never gave me a real name, but he would call himself Black. He never explained why, and I never asked. I was always scared he would rape me again if I asked, so I kept my mouth shut.
My voice gets caught in my throat. "What do you want? How did you get this number?" I'm panicking. Why would he call me five years after dumping me on the side of the road when he was done with me? "How are my sons?" he asks, completely ignoring my question. My blood boils.
He hurt me, beat me into three miscarriages, trained me to be a killing machine-to have no emotion, beat me half to death, then left me to fend for myself while pregnant with twins. All within the span of a month and some change. My boys, those twins were supposed to be triplets. But I lost one because of the beatings he gave me.
He has no right to call them his when he's the reason they have one less sibling. When he's the reason Mama has nightmares. When he's the reason the world doesn't know they exist. He is not and will not be their father. Ever. I will never call him a part of my family all because he didn't pull out. He may be blood, but he is not family.
"They are not yours. Don't ask about them. What do you want?" I hiss. I'm not afraid anymore. He can't hurt me more than he has already. He sighs. "Dol-" I interrupt him. "Don't. Call. Me. That." He used to call me his doll. That's all I was. His doll. His toy to play with and break then throw away when he was finished. "I just wanted to tell you that girl you ate out, is dead. Do you realize she was a minor? Only seventeen. Such a shame. You didn't have to kill her the way you did." What is he talking about? I killed her friend. "What do you mean? She was nineteen." I tell him slowly. He laughs. A genuine loud laugh erupts from his mouth, and it takes a while for him to calm down.
"Did she tell you that? That bitch lied. She was seventeen. You raped and killed her. I must say, I'm proud." I didn't rape her. If anything, I was the miserable one. She asked me to do it. She dragged me to the bathroom. I didn't rape her. "I didn't rape her. And I didn't kill her." He's quiet for a moment but then he speaks up. "Oh, but you did. You see, my men were at the scene. They saw the whole thing. Are you calling them liars?"
Holy shit. This man is crazy.
He killed her and he's trying to blame it on me. He thinks he's slick. "Do you really think I'm dumb?" I say in a dangerously low voice. "You sick son of a bitch. You killed her. Probably fucked her corpse too." Quietness. Such a beautiful sound. Too bad I have to break it. "Don't call this number again, because I won't pick up. Don't mention my kids, because if you do, you won't be able to create anymore. Don't threaten me, because I am not afraid of you. You can't hurt me anymore. Goodbye, Black." With that, I hung up.
I didn't rape her, he did. I didn't kill her, he did. She wanted it. I didn't rape her. I only knocked her out. I didn't kill her. He did. He did that to her.
"Gina!"
Right? I didn't rape her, right?
"Gina! Wake up!"
S-She asked for it!
"Baby, please! Wake the hell up!"
I didn't do it.
I didn't do it.
I didn't do it.
I didn't do it.
"REGINA!!!"
I gasp, trying to catch my breath. I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't see. I can feel tears well up and overflow. I'm panicking. "Gina, Where are your pills?" A familiar voice calls out to me. "I-I ca-can't move. I can't move. Pl- please help me." I cry out. A pair of large arms lift me from the bed and carry me out of my room. "You're going to be okay my love." Ambrose. That asshole.
I'm so tired.
My eyes start to droop, and I start to slip back into a deep slumber, but his voice stops me. "No. No. No. Stay awake. We're almost there. Eddie will take care of you, and you'll be fine."
Okay. I trust Eddie. He reminds me of Eddie Brock aka Venom. I wonder if he has a parasite.
I try my best to keep my eyes open although I can't see anything. I can hear and feel and speak. "Regina. Can you hear me?" I identify as Eddie's voice. It's so calm and soothing whereas Ambrose and Cristos are running around like headless chickens. "Yeah, I can hear you. I can't move or see. What's wrong with me?" I whisper.
I feel his cold fingers on my neck, probably checking my pulse. "You're fine. It's just a panic response. Your body is so worked up that it doesn't know what to do so it shuts down. You just need to breathe. You need to calm down." He soothingly says. I try but I can't. It isn't working and I'm getting frustrated. "It's not working!" I exclaim.
I hear him sigh then leave. The room increases in volume, then I hear a door close. Did he just leave? My frustration turns into anger. How could he!? The door opens then closes again this time I feel a big warm hand engulf mine. "Gina? Gina, baby are you okay?" Fuck. I wish I could move so I could snatch my hand from his. But, because I can't act, I tell. "Don't touch me! I don't want you here!" He quickly lets go and I can hear him step back.
My breathing has picked up as well as my crying. I don't want him here. "Gi-"
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!!! Only people I trust can call me that! Only people who trust me can call me that! You have made it perfectly that you don't trust me! That you don't care." I yell. He doesn't say anything after a while. So, I say something instead. "Get out."
"No." He replies. No? No. What does he mean no? "Why!? You don't care so why stay!? You don't trust me so why stay!?" I'm fed up. I feel his hand on me again but this time I try and try and try to pull away. But it doesn't work. "I'm not leaving because I do care." He mumbles. "No, you don't. If you did, you wouldn't have done this to me." I tense. "If you cared, you wouldn't have believed her, and I wouldn't have panicked. If you cared, I wouldn't be here right now. You did this to me." I am calmer than I was before.
I try again to take my hand from his and by some miracle, I can move it. "I won't let you hurt me like everyone else. I'm asking you, please, get out." I ask shakily. I feel his body heat vanish and I hear the door opening and slamming shut behind him. Now's a good time to try my breathing exercises.
Inhale. 1...2...3...4...5...
Hold. 1...2...3...
Exhale. 1...2...3...4...5...
I repeat the process a few more times until my vision clears and I am completely mobile. My hands are still shaky, but I guess that's to be expected.
He did this to me. All he had to do was talk to me. I would have told him everything. But he decided to assume and trust his former fuck buddy over me. How could he?
A M B R O S E
First of all, you are such an asshole for believing what came out of that wrench's mouth! Secondly, you didn't even talk to me or ask me if it was true! You just assumed that I would rape and kill the girl! Listen to what I'm saying! Why would I touch her without consent with all that I've been through!? Who do you think I am!? Third, I didn't do all that shit! But you wouldn't believe me right!? You would just assume the worst! You would take the word of your whore over your so-called 'girlfriend'.
I don't want anything to do with you until I've calmed down.
I didn't rape her, he did. I didn't kill her, he did. She wanted it. I didn't rape her. I only knocked her out. I didn't kill her. He did. He did that to her.
If you did, you wouldn't have done this to me. If you cared, you wouldn't have believed her, and I wouldn't have panicked. If you cared, I wouldn't be here right now. You did this to me.
I won't let you hurt me like everyone else.
Her words echo through my head as I lay in bed unable to sleep at 3: 34 am. It's been three weeks after the incident with Amber's accusations and Regina's reaction. Lorenzo's and Mateo's birthdays are in a few days and she's throwing them a small party. She didn't want me there but the boys said they didn't mind me being there. She reluctantly agreed.
We haven't spoken in the weeks that have passed. I miss her. I miss her random comments. I miss her intoxicating laugh. I miss her addicting smell. I miss the trail of light she left everywhere she went even though the light in the interior is dead. I miss being able to kiss her in the morning and being able to hold her as she slept.
I fucked it all up. I can't do all the things I missed. All because I didn't listen to her. I didn't even care that she was bisexual. What I cared about was the fact that she, allegedly, raped and killed a seventeen-year-old girl. I want to hear her side of the story. I always had. I was just so clouded by hate and anger that I didn't even look at the facts.
She's right. Why would she do something like that when she was a rape victim herself. How could I? How could I believe Amber so easily? What the fuck is wrong with me?
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