❝Morrison is my archenemy and he only dies with my hands wrapped around his neck...❞
Carl John Morrison has never met any man who surpasses Aiden Black. He's a stuck-up prick. Easy on the eye. A lethal weapon.
And Carl has a weakness for him.
A tr...
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Ch 3: Self torture
“My God you look like shit, Aiden.” Stacy said. “And I’m going out for a sleepover at Mason’s, class project due tomorrow, bye!”
“Its way past your curfew,” Aiden sharply replied.
Stacy was already pushing past Aiden to leave the house. “I know that. In case you missed the memo, it wasn’t a request. I was only informing you as an obligation.”
Aiden scoffed, “I’m the adult here, I make the rules and I said you’re not going anywhere after your curfew.”
Fed up with scratching nails back and forth, Stacy left the house without saying another word. Aiden gasped as he watched the teenager leave. Angry, he slammed the door right behind her and went straight to his bedroom for a very much needed shower. So much to deal with in one night.
Aiden and Stacy’s relationship was what one may put across as highly volatile. He couldn’t even commit to memory the last time she had called him dad or anything similar out loud.
The unexpected demise of a once robust relationship kicked in as soon as Stacy started bringing up questions about her never spoken about mother.
Aiden wasn’t ready to unfurl that specific part of history, yet or maybe ever. Stacy needed to be content with what she had, him, and nothing else. Wasn’t he enough for her already? Stacy’s mother was a devastatingly painful part of his life that had triggered a state of heavy depression which furthered into Restless Legs Syndrome (RLS) making him lose sleep every single night since it also prompted his chronic insomnia.
In the last few years, Aiden worked tirelessly on his state of mind and depression but RLS—not so much.
The condition required him to discontinue caffeine and quit smoking but nicotine was something he wasn’t ready to give up any time soon. With a raging teenager on his case twenty-four seven, he definitely needed the addictive stimulant to increase speed of his sensory information processing, sharpening his mind and mostly easing tension caused by being a teenager’s father figure at only twenty-nine.
Instead of addressing the never talked about situation in a comprehensible manner for Stacy to get at least an overview, he completely shut her off—throwing her string of inquisitive and sincere questions out in the curbs for stray dogs to feast on.
Stacy was no doubt distraught and hurt, she despised the way Aiden had handled everything hence resorting into straight up defiance like any other normal teenager in order to make her actions justifiable. However, the two of them possessed similar traits, stubborn to the bone marrow, resilient and rash.
