*Being Published in 2022*
❝You can't deny that you're attracted to me, Nyx. Instead of fighting it, let's see what happens,❞ he grumbled, hands roaming my body. His thumb brushed my bottom lip. ❝Open up for me, baby.❞
...
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I'd spent years imagining the moment I'd see my mom again. It was something I looked forward to, an end goal. I'd envision what I'd say to her, to torment her the way she hurt us when she left. I could remember Poppy's screams. Sometimes I still heard it in my nightmares. I had it all planned out, truly. How could I not? When she first left, there was so much sorrow inside of me that it constantly felt as if I was suffocating. The first part of my plan involved questions, so many questions. Why did you leave us? Were we not enough? Did you not love us? Why would you leave us with him?
It was the inquiries of a girl who experienced so many controversial things and all she wanted were answers; answers that she never got. I became tired of seeking those answers and decided to make my own.
But as time went on, as I saw Matthew take his hatred out and Poppy and me, as I watched Indigo grow up without a mother, the sadness dissipated. A surge of bitter anger supplanted it, not even a blazing one. Ice cold. Fire meant emotion, passion. And I felt nothing for her. All of my emotions were solidified into little shards that I wanted to impale her with, emotionally, of course.
I planned to tell her about the girls she left behind. I wanted her to know that Annie was a brilliant cook and could very well open her own restaurant one day. And it seemed like a very good possibility, especially after Beckham revealed to me what he'd gotten her for her birthday. A course at our university, fully paid for by him. I didn't think it was possible to love him more than I did.
I wanted our mom to know that Poppy was fucking amazing at volleyball and that Indigo had a personality that could rival all the entertainers in the world. And me, I wanted her to know that I was tough, that I could rise to the occasion and protect my sisters like I always wanted to. I wasn't frail, wasn't the porcelain doll Matthew made me out to be, a doll he smashed and glued together to his heart's content.
But my tongue felt too heavy for my mouth. I knew why she left. It was difficult to hold onto my anger. There was just confusion now. Because I knew nothing about my life and who I was. The air in the place felt too muggy and my feet felt pulverised in my boots. I was all too aware of how wet my mouth was, of the blood rushing to my head and the sound of the clock on the wall. Each tick sounded through the tense air like a bomb. Yet, neither of us said anything.
The apartment was larger than I expected and situated in a bustling part of the city. It was a different kind of noise compared to a neighbourhood, and I could just picture Indigo waking up early, rushing to the window to watch people go about their morning. My heart clenched at the thought of her. I pushed aside the guilt, telling myself that space was what I needed. It was my mantra for the past week. I need space.
