Sold to the mafia

Anthony

I push the curtain back and watch her drive away. I see her look over her shoulder with one last glance at the house, and it kills me not to run out and get her. I couldn’t move as I felt her stir next to me and leave me. I knew that’s what she was doing, and it took all of me to lie still and let her go free.

I knew she’d leave me. I was a fool to think I could have her. I was wrong to think she’d be safe with me.

She needs to leave me. I can’t protect her. I need to let her go. She doesn’t love me, and Vince will never let me keep her if she doesn’t love me back.

They’ll never understand.

If I could tell her anything right now, I’d tell her to run. Run far away from me.

It hurts. The pain in my chest hurts so fucking much as I watch the car disappear.

She left me. I really thought it was love in her eyes.

Mom. I thought she loved me too.

When Dad killed her in front of me to get rid of the fear and the nightmares, she cried out how much she loved me. I thought that was love, too.

Maybe I’m wrong and I just don’t know what love is.

If love is what’s causing this pain, I don’t want it. But I still want her. Fuck me, I do. I want to lie to myself and think that we can be together in this fucked up way and that the world will leave us alone. But I can’t put her in danger. I’ve been selfish and stupid, and I fucking hate that I ever took her the way I did. At the same time, she’s all I want. If I could go back upstairs and keep her lying in bed with me, I would. If I had to lock her up and never let her out again, I would. That’s only more reason that I need to stay here and let her go. She deserves so much more than a man like me.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

I sit outside in the rain, letting it soak through my clothes, just thinking about how I should have let her go right from the start. I should have let her go free. I thought I made her happy though. I thought she wanted the same things I wanted. But I was wrong.

I hear a car swerve in the distance and my heart starts pounding in my chest. I run inside for the keys to my pickup truck and haul ass as fast as I can. It can’t be her. I pray she’s okay. It takes too fucking long to get there. I’ll save her. She needs me. I’ll protect her. I slow the car as I see skid marks, but there’s nothing there. It looks like a car crashed, but then drove off.

I stay at the scene for a long time, thinking it wasn’t her. It wasn’t my kitten.

She’s left me and now she’s safe. She’s better off without me. I wish I had a way to track her to know for sure. Again, another reason she needs to run from me.

The pain won’t go away.

I can’t get rid of this hurt in my chest. I just know something’s wrong.

I close my eyes and shake my head. It’s all in my head. I’m only hurting because she left me. I’m looking for reasons to search her out. It’s my own sickness.

I need to let her go. I settle on that truth as I drive back home. But I can’t sleep. When the sun filters through the curtains and my phone pings a few hours later, I reach for it like it was meant to go off.

I expect it to be my kitten. I don’t know how, but I do. All night I’ve waited up, hoping she’d come back to me.

I stare at the phone and I fucking hate myself. I click it off and move as quick as I can.

Cassys want a meet.

I know why. And I’m ready to end this. They’re all fucking dead.