They say that nowadays, love cease to exist. It's just a myth. To which it never existed. That it was just in fairytale. Or in movie's, book but not life.
But Ezra helped me prove them wrong. It not just a myth, it doesn't just happen in a fairytal...
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My fist collided with the man's cheek bone. "Ezra." I hear Octavius warn. My fist collided again. "Look, you've become weak because of the pathetic-" I hit again, but this time I heard cracking.
Everything hurts.
The guy's head hung low. "Ezra, what the fuck?" I stare at the guy. His nose is broken, and his lip is bleeding.
As the thought of her flooded back into my mind. The way she looked when I brought up her mother is permanently burned into my head.
The way her brows furrowed as hurt became visible in her light eyes.
How her lips quiver and the tear that feels onto her cheek. Seeing her cry woke something inside of me. The pain in my chest is still there, cold and dark.
You're a monster.
When she came into my life, she lit a flame inside of me that I didn't know I had. It's like there was a candle somewhere inside of me waiting to be lit.
Nevaeh lit my whole body on fire. She has an Addiction. She's a craving you can't get rid of. She's like a scar—the ones that stay visible and don't fade. She was like a drug.
She is my addiction.
But I ruined it. Because of me. I want to protect her, and I can't do that when she's around.
Max cried for her all night. Elain and Marissa won't talk to me. Leo left. Fernando has moved some of his men into Italy.
But all for what? For a girl that I can't get the fuck out of my head, no matter how hard I try. She likes burned into my brain and skin under my skin.
"What is your problem?" Octavius growled. I chuckled evilly, turning to face him. "Mine problem?"
Octavius looks a little off-guard.
"You are my fucking problem." I growled, walking past him. I gripped my forearm. I can still feel the pen dragging lightly against my skin.
She thought I was asleep, but I wasn't.
I look down at the skull. It's not messed up. I have no idea what pen she used, but don't ask me.
***
I open the front door to my estate and immediately get hit with a wooden spoon. "Che diavolo c'è che non va in te ragazzo! Tuo padre ed io ti abbiamo cresciuto per essere cos fottutamente stupido?!" My mother shouted.
Translate: (What the hell is wrong with you, boy? Did your father and I raise you to be so fucking stupid?)
My eyes widened when she started to reach for her Chancla.
Ok, if I run fast enough—
No, it will still fucking hit me.
"Ma." I pleaded. "Ho fatto una fottuta domanda ragazzo!" When my mother starts speaking in Italian. I know nothing can save me from her now.
