The Mob Boss's Retribution [18+]

33

Dinner was ordered instead of home cooked that night when we arrived from Ariel's place.

My unhappy state of mind nagged me. A lot.

I had felt the shift of our friendship. Not necessarily in a positive way. It wasn't good. I could tell that it wasn't good, neither was it wanted or appreciated.

Roman didn't know about our little snappy encounter before lunch and make up after lunch. Even if he knew he acted pretty oblivious to knowledge.

The side eyes from Angelo wasn't something I had missed throughout the lunch.

God, I hated myself for lashing out at Ariel. But then again, I felt bad a lot and then did the same thing I felt bad about..

Distance was necessary between me and Bubbles. Her state was affecting me too much. I was letting it affect me too much. And being close to bubbles would be if anything but a thorough encounter of pains. All due to my self centered thinking.

Sometimes I did wish I were like my friend. Or maybe Coralyn and Alyssa. Selfless and kind. Polite and prim. Gentle. I wasn't. There wasn't any thing in my that was sugarcoating worthy.

I was Blaire. Blunt and insensitive.  And now, possibly the reason of my best friend's mental health deterioration. She was such a sweet soul.

Overbearing. Motherly. Nagging. But sweet nevertheless. Ariel was always there to lend- hell, she would even cut of her shoulder if I wanted that. But me? I was mad at minor inconvenience she caused to my day dreaming fairy tale.

I wish I were a better, sensible person.

I wonder if the therapist Bubbles see is any good.

It would be better if I went. Just to let the mess in my head, calm down a little.

But there was no avail.

Dressed in a set of silk pajama shorts and chemise, I stared up at the reflective ceiling of my bedroom. Roman and I still rarely slept on the same bed.

It was usually me feeling uncomfortable with another person and getting away to save my sorry ass. Roman, once knocked out rarely woke up before the clock struck five fifteen every morning.

No matter how late we stayed up, fucking each other's brains out.

The bastard could sleep through a fucking shootout, he could.

Turning on my side, I was tempted to call Ariel. I glanced at the time in the right corner of my cell phone. No. It was late with the time reading three thirty.

She would be a sleep getting discharged from hospital. She would need her share of rest.

But the again, Devil-o, as the lil bitch he was, might not let her sleep through the night. I realized. What a little cunt.