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My hands were crossed over my chest as I leaned my side on the wall while looking through the window. My eyes traveled over the garden savoring the beautiful calmness of it, while my brain kept being fussy.
The talk that we had with Don brought nothing except hate in me. It was hard to make him believe that one of his men would do something as Leandro did, because by his words - he was the calmest and innocent one in his eyes, but after convincing him he did, he believed that instead of an angel he was holding a devil.
The anxiety and anger keep bugging me over the past week causing my jaw to flex as well as my fists. The truth that was relieved didn't bring me any good, instead vexed feeling overpowered my senses.
I was irritated knowing that I was lied to, I was aggravated knowing that I went through hell thinking that I'm doing good, that I'm saving the people I love the most when in the end they didn't even need saving.
I was.
"Same last name doesn't mean that it's family." Ricardo's words replayed in my mind like a broken record, "There is a lot of people with the same last name, but that doesn't mean that they are connected. My relationship with Leandro was strictly business there is no blood relation involved."
I submitted to the devil through the past seven years, why? I didn't need to. All that crap he was feeding me was just that, crap, pure shit, lies. He was not a big fish I needed to worry about, maybe be scared of him, okay, but thinking that he was something as big as the next heir - that was a mistake.
I was feeling sadness for what I lost. I lost aunt, I lost love I had in my life, I lost people that cared for me and I cared for, but as if the is not enough, I lost myself, I lost what I used to be...
For the past week, all I did was closed myself in Dante's room and cry. Cry for everything I lost. Cry because I didn't know what to do.
I would quietly cry till I wouldn't hear the footsteps that would approach the door then I would shuffle my head into the pillow and act as if I'm sleeping.
It would be better that way.
That way the only thing I would feel would be his eyes and gentle caressing on my arm or cheek. I wouldn't feel the heartache that started make itself known whenever we are eye to eye.
Ever since the truth was spilled all we do is argue. Argue for what we could have and what we lost.
He blamed me and I blamed myself.
I breathed deep trying to calm my racing heart, whipping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand I took a glance at the punching bag that was hanging in the middle of the room.
