The raindrops there painted the roads in the darkness glared at me, reminding me of how weak I was. I glared back, just not with the same intensity or motive. I just glared. A weird thing to do at puddles, since you normally just look at them. Maybe because I am not normal? Probably.
Anthony speeded up, moving his hands beside me. The leather smell filled my nose and I inhaled a deep breath. "Your brothers were nice," I commented, my body moving closer to the window.
"Thanks," he answered flatly, turning left down an unknown road covered in darkness.
Clouds covered the otherwise sparkling moon, leaving only the half glowing streetlamps to fill the empty streets with light this cold night.
Anthony had made the music play in the background. I could only just figure out the words, which I silently copied with my mouth; singing on the inside of my mind.
"You don't talk that much," he said beside me. The heavy feeling of his eyes landed on my back, keeping themselves there for a moment.
"I say what I need to say." I sought the fastest way to end the conversation, however, I had no idea what happened in Anthony's mind. Which thoughts crossed over each other and begged to be released.
"That sounds sad," he said, turning the wheel, so the car twirled down another road. A twist in his voice indicated that he in some way knew how sad my words were.
We all have feelings we don't show to others, maybe even Anthony hid something beneath all his layers? I did different things to prevent me from being miserable and one of them was avoid conversations, but still, I answered when Anthony would say something. I answered when Tony, my father or my mother would say something. I kept doing the things there buried me deep. I was indeed a fool.
Feelings crammed into my chest and I didn't fight it. I let it bury me in black powder until I wasn't visible any longer.
"Do you still love him?" His words were as powerful as his fist and as I glanced his way, his expression was just as strong.
"Who?"
"Your brother. Do you really still love him? He must have done something to make you feel such emotions everytime something about brothers comes up."
I drew in a deep breath. "You can't stop loving family. So yes, I still love him."
"How much?"
He indicated a strong concern of the subject and somehow I knew that no matter how much I tried to avoid it, he would keep pressing for the truth. So why not just give it to him already? Save me from the fight I would lose no matter what.
"Does that really matter?" I asked, my hands trailing after a drop there ran down the clean window, picking up a few smaller drops on its way.
"Why does it not? He may be your brother, but your love shouldn't be unconditional over for someone who hurt you so badly."
"My love for him wasn't enough to make him stay. If I stop loving him now; if I begin to love him less, would that bring him back? Or would it make it hurt less?" I watch my eyes in the window. My reflection was the only thing keeping me sane. My eyes, glowing with innocent and fright, stared back at me.
Anthony briskly stopped the car, my body punched forward in surprise. I turn to look at him, my eyes wide and my heart racing for every second there goes by. He unlocked himself, turning his torso towards me and gently placing his hand on my cheek, leaning his face closer.
I shoved his hand away quickly, scrambling as far away from him as possible. "Don't touch me." I never thought this was how I would feel around Anthony. Lost. He shook his head, placing his palms on my cheeks whipping away the tears I had yet to discover with his soft thumbs.
The familiar rumble of thunder was heard outdoors and soon the fantastic light followed and lit up the cloud covered night sky.
"Why are you like this? What made you be like this? Your brother?" he asked his voice as soft as the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm fine."
He just shook his head at my comment, a smile playing on his lips. "You know, if he really loved you that much he wouldn't have hurt you. He wouldn't have left."
Anger boiled in my whole system as soon as the words left his lips. I was hungry for destruction, as a marvelous sea in a storm. "You have no idea what you are talking about!"
"Then tell me so I can understand!"
"You'll never understand, so just drive me home." I punched back in my own seat, slapping his hands away in the meantime.
"Easy there, princess, I'll drive you home as soon as you explain. I gave you time, I didn't ask questions when you broke down in front of my family or after the night where you funny enough also broke down. Now I do, 'cause I want to understand and I want to help."
He started the car again, the motor blending with the sound of my own heartbeat and rapid breathing.
"I've never asked for your help and I'll never ask, so give up. Just give up, okay? There ain't anything you can do for me." I never thought so many words could escape from my mouth. But here I was, talking and talking when I just should have kept my mouth closed for good.
Anthony drew his hands through his hair three quick times. He kept silent, probably melting my words with his own thoughts. What did he think about? How was he really?
I dropped my gaze to the floor of the car, my feet dotted to each other. My thumbs hooked themselves in my worn out jeans. I was about to explode before, not even my father or mother could bring such things up in me. Only Anthony had that power over me.
"You have to face the truth someday, Nina," he said as low as possible, maybe hoping I wouldn't hear him.
"Which truth?"
"All of them. All of them you are so desperately running from."
"I ain't running."
That, for once, was the truth. I wasn't running from the truth, in some way I was staying right in it, hoping and praying it for it to be a dream or nightmare there soon would be over.
"Maybe not, but I'm still right," he said, turning left and towards the part of town I came from. The dirty part, where his fancy car didn't belong.
"You might be right, however, that doesn't mean I am wrong, you just haven't seen things from my side."
He laughed under his breath, only letting a slight sound reach my ears. "Somewhere deep down you really have a good heart, Anthony, however, when you open your mouth something covers it. So, please shut up and drive me home as planned."
I glanced at his eyes, they stared hard straightforward without as much as blinking. The breeze from the air condition played with a string of my hair, only slightly making it move to its rhythm.
I broke my gaze and glanced out the front window, forcing myself to concentrate on the road ahead or one of the cars there once in a while would drive past us.
Anthony pulled up in front of my house. Its surface was hiding in the darkness and I needed to squeeze my eyes to make sure it was the right one. I unlocked myself and made sure he didn't walk out to open the door for me. I opened it and was about to walk out, when Anthony grabbed my wrist, keeping me inside.
"Wait," he growled, taking in a deep breath. "Do you hate me?"
Did I really hate him? Sadly, no.
"Look, I don't hate you. In some weird way, I can make myself hate you. I'm just done. I'm done with getting hurt. I'm done knowing people who'll only break my heart in the end. So, no, I don't hate you. I'm just done with you and people in general."
I wrinkled out of his grasp and in a quick jump, I was also out in the rain. I looked over my shoulder and over at Anthony. He stared at the wheel, "at least you don't hate me."
I slammed the door, walking in without looking back or hesitating. I swung open the door, my father sat up against the wall. A half-finished bottle swirled in his hand. His own eyes were closed and his peaceful snoring filled the room.
I snapped the bottle from his hand, walking into the kitchen to take a few more before heading upstairs.
I should deal with my shit instead of turning to my addiction, but this was easier. Way easier.
I was just like my dad. An alcoholic asshole, who closed everyone out. Ruined people because I was too afraid to let them in. And in this moment, all I wanted was to forget it. Forget it all.
I glided down against the wall, taking the first couple of sips. The old scent of alcohol would soon float around me, declaring what kind of person I was. I eyed the smelling liquor. Should I really do this? I wrapped my fingers tighter around the bottle, draining it down in one big mouth full.
The normal knee burn on my tongue only reminded me of how much I missed the feeling. How much I longed for it. I let the bottle fall heavily down on the ground, but not so much that it split. I grabbed another can and swayed it open.
I emptied it, squeezing the bottle as I tried to lick out the last drop. I threw it across my room, the tears following close after. "Why does he have to care? Why the fuck did he have to notice me?" I screamed over the room, my body feeling the tension.
I rested my head in my right hand, using the other to keep me sitting straight. The alcohol was still as clear on my tongue as it had been when I had consumed it.
This is all their fault! This is my father's fault, my mother's fault, and my brother's fault! If they had just been loving I wouldn't have been here!
I glanced over at the other cans. The sweet taste lured me in and I grabbed one in a fast moment. I twisted open the can and took a small sip. Again, the burning left a familiar sensation in my throat and on my tongue.
Tears glassed my sight, leaving me no other choice than to blink and let them run down my cheeks and mix with the others.
Sadness. A term I had never fully understood, even though I felt it often. Why was I here, on the floor with a bottle in my hand, being sad about something there has already happened? After all, there was no point crying over it. What was done was done. Unluckily for me, being sad was as if being stabbed repeatedly without dying, keep feeling the pain of the deep cuts.
In that moment on the floor, it was as if I had finally died on the inside, turning to something inhuman. I suffered at night when my tears stained my pillow. I suffered in the day when my never-ending false smile played with peoples minds. There was so much ugliness hidden in me, so much sadness.
It was all too much, however, there was always one thing there helped me avoid it for some time. And that thing was alcohol.
My hands hung on my knees and the can fell out of my hand. My head droped between my legs and tears wetted my clothing.
It was not easy to be me.
...
I love writing these chapter though its kind of sad. Sometimes I forget what Nina really feels like and then when a chapter like this comes, all of her scars suddenly comes back to me and I get sad.
Nevertheless, what did you think about the Nina and Anthony moment? Should Nina let him help her or keep up her act? Please comment what you think and maybe throw a vote in my direction.
Have a nice day!