"What if it was the prince who needed saving?"
Not receiving an ounce of love even in his childhood, he became heartless. His cold exterior scared people away, and not to mention his detached, unemotional personality. Haunted by his past, he was use...
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What the fuck is happening to me?
Why did my heart fucking flip when she touched her nose to mine? Why did I stop breathing when she brushed away my fucking hair?
And most importantly, why the fuck am I touching myself to the thought of her?
It's her eyes. It's her bland, boring, brown fucking eyes. It's the fucking way she asked me to be her friend. It's the way her eyes light up when she giggles, or the way her chin tips back slightly when laughs.
It's the fucking way she churns my soul.
I walk out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my waist. I haven't slept in three days now, and my father's words keep echoing in my mind.
I raised you just so you could carry on my legacy and remind people of the nightmare that is Elias Aleksander. I didn't raise you so you could crawl after a fucking slut like a dog.
Broken glass is scattered all around the room. I broke it when I got too mad. Mad at him. Mad at myself. Mad at my fucking life.
I didn't raise you so you could crawl after a fucking slut like a dog.
I surprise myself when I realise that I'm not mad at him for questioning my ability, or for calling me a dog. I'm mad at him for calling her a slut.
What in the world is going on with me?
I kick a few broken shards of glass away and walk to my closet, picking out a dark blue button-up with jeans.
After fixing my hair, I get in my car and drive to Temptation.
I blast the song on full volume as I drive recklessly. Heck, part of me hopes that I'll get in an accident and die. Part of me is too stubborn to admit that I'm scared of killing myself.
Part of me wants to flush her out of my fucking system, but a larger part of me wants to get my hands of Tyril and rip out his entrails.
Who, to my surprise, called me just this morning.
He had the nerve to not only kill three of my guards, but also call me at three in the fucking morning.
The conversation did not go how I had planned.
"Who is this?" "Zane. It's nice to hear your voice after so long"
I pause, my hands tightly gripping the edge of my desk, almost breaking a piece off. "Tyril" I speak through my teeth. My veins feel like they're about to burst any moment now.
"It looks like someone tried to catch me alive, but was unsuccessful. Just give up, Zane. We both know it's useless" he lets out a very fake laugh. I want to punch him through the phone.
"Why are you calling me?" "Why? Did you not want me to say hi?"
"I saw your father just this morning, and to be honest, he seems fed up with your shit. Say, who is she anyway?"
