Make me yours

Chapter 21

Hey babes, 

Hope you are well, safe and happy. A small part of this chapter is inspired on a part of a fanfic here on Wattpad so I feel like I should credit happydays1d on her fic Duplicity for that idea. Thank you guys, for reading. Thank you to those who comment, you make my days.

Oh, and btw I kinda picture Jonathan as Zayn Malik. I don't know if I am making sense but in my head, he looks like Zayn, but feel free to picture him as you want. 

Love you. 

The silence in the hallway was at the same time blessing and torture. Alessandro has already stopped breathing some time ago, making my own irregular breaths the only audible sound. My legs are too weak to stand giving me no other chance than to be sitting on the cold floor with the letter on my bloody head and tears on my face. 

I stop looking at the man on the ground a few minutes ago when his wrinkles started despairing and his face started to look like James'. My mind is the craziest place I have ever known about. I just killed a man, I ended someones' life, and instead of guilt and pain for this dead body, my mind only brings me to the other dead body, James. 

Tears fall from my eyes fast and aggressively making it impossible for me to see the perfect letter in my hands with my grandmother's perfect calligraphy on it written with a black pen. I try my hardest not to get it dirty, trying to keep my shaking hands away from my sobbing lips and crying eyes. 

"Livian?" It's the ear device calling from somewhere on the ground. I can hear Mattheo's voice through it, breaking the silence and making me blindly look for the device on the badly illuminated floor. My hands tap on something small and I quickly bring it closer to me. 

"Mattheo?" It's a whisper, a crying sob with a breaking voice and mourner's heart. My lips are shaking too much for me to say anything else so I just wait for him to understand what I don't even do myself. 

"He is dead isn't he, angel?" And of course, he understands. His voice is soft, especially on that word. He never called me that before but it left his lips so naturally like he really meant it. But how could he?

"I'm no angel." I whisper back more tears falling and more sobs leaving my mouth. "I-I killed a man, Mattheo." Here it is, the sentence. The sentence was supposed to make me feel guilt and range over myself and fear of the consequences. That was supposed to make me feel anything at all, but no. I feel bad but not as much as I think I would feel, as much as I think I should feel. 

"You are an angel." A whisper, a really low whisper like he is afraid of saying those things out loud, as if they are too deep for me to hear. There is a long silence after that my breaths being the only thing I hear once again. "How do you feel?" His voice is a little louder now, he sounds so calm like he needs to be like that for me. 

"I don't know." I whisper back, my face already insensitive to the wet tears on my face. "I shouldn't be feeling like this. I should be feeling guilty, sad, afraid. Why am I like this?" The pain is clear in my voice. 

"There is no right thing to feel. Don't be so rigid on yourself." Silence, a silence that somehow makes me feel a little better. "You were so brave, angel." Pause, those kinds of pauses that anticipate something big. "Your grandmother would be so proud."

My grandmother. The reason why I am here in the first place. My heart skips a bit when he mentions her and my head gets all dizzy and confused. I don't know if I am supposed to hate her or not. I no longer know what I am supposed to do and it is killing me. I can no longer distinguish the good from the bad, the should form the shouldn't. I don't even know myself anymore.