𝚆𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛

3|

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The constant dripping of a broken water pipe sounds like a hammer colliding with a wall every damn time. But I dare to say that even if the water pipe wouldn't keep me up, I'd still lay in the bed eyes widen open as I watch the embroided stars on the canapy.

I heard the others come up the stairs around nine pm but I don't know if he was with them and I don't care. My clothes are all back in my suitcase and my mission is clear, tomorrow when the sun decides to come up again I'll tell Daisy that I'll stay at a motel. I don't care how comfortable these cussion may be, or how delicious the food was. I won't stay here and that's final.

I shiver lightly and pull the duvet over my shoulders letting the soft material of the duvet slide against the small slip dress Daisy left for me. When I asked her to lend me something to sleep in, I expected an old band shirt or a thin long sleeve. Not five newly bought, silk dresses but I guess that's Daisy's way of showing that she cares.

So I put it on anyways ignoring the scandalous little puddle of material that in no way should be called a dress.

"God I won't be able to fall asleep with that noise." I breathe out and throw the duvet off of me and swing my legs over the bed. The floor is cold underneath my feet and I shiver again and grab the light cardigan from the side of my bed putting it on.

It's far past one in the morning everyone is long asleep and I'm sure a hot milk with honey will calm my racing thoughts.

I open my door as quietly as I can and tip toe through the dark hall taking a few minutes to orientate myself. I let my hands brush against the wall beside me so I know when the corner ends and go on to grabbing the railing of the stairs.

I shiver lightly when my feet come into contact with the cold marble steps. Probably should've thought this through but since yesterday's dinner my whole mind got turned upside down.

I don't even want to think about him or even speak his name.
It's just..deep down I know I have this raging anger and lust for vengeance to cover the hurt, the cracks I so carefully cleaned up, put together.

But they're fragile, I know they're going to burst open and bleed all over again if I'm not careful and protect them.

And the revenge burning inside of me is helpful with the pain. It makes the deep hunger, for him to hurt, enjoyable even though I know it's wrong.

But I want him to hurt just the way that I did, I want him to feel the agonizing pain pumping through his blood every second wondering if the pain's ever going to subside.

But I can tell it's not. It's not going anywhere soon. Even after five years.

"I sound like a serial killer." I mumble to myself before I reach the kitchen and go straight for the cupboard getting out a cup.

I'm actually sad to leave this place tomorrow not just because of Daisy's sweet gestures but it's really peaceful here, I can understand why dad likes it.

I open up the fridge and shiver immediately at the cold holding my cardigan together before I bend over to grab the milk in the far back.

"That's a sight I could get used to."

The voice scared me so much that I bang my head on the top of the fridge before I whirl around to look at a dark figure standing in the kitchen with me.

"You scared the living shit-" I stop talking while I hold my head staring at the devil himself.

A smirk lays on his lips as he leans against the counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
He's dressed in grey joggers and a black shirt and I can't help but stare at the soft, dark curls hanging around his face.