In a world of deceit and harshness, she tries to survive.
But when Axel is involved , survival doesn't exist.
Highest Rankings -
#2 in Seniors
#7 in Axel
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Monday mornings. Fucking hate them.
This Monday morning is no better than the rest considering it's the third month mark since that day.
Flashes of a girl at the big plaza set raced through my mind this morning.
This morning the bold tattoo on my neck written in Roman Numerals stood out as I stared at my mirror.
I cried this morning.
Matteo heard but he knew not to walk in. I hated taking my temper out on him so I told him whenever he heard things being thrown, loud sniffs of me inhaling a long white powdered line or my pathetic sobs not to walk in.
Two months ago, the day at the party, I wasn't just there for decoration. I assumed she would've been there.
Except she wasn't. I sent her a couple text messages a month ago but I received no response.
I then learnt she'd had a younger sister.
Astrid Jones.
I found out she'd be dressed in a black leather pants and a blue short dress shirt with a fake police badge on it. I thought it was a dumb Halloween consume idea.
I'd attempted to call her sister because maybe I wasn't as bad of a person as I had originally thought.
But of course she never picked up.
I knew when teenagers or even adults pulled shit like she did, something was about to go down but I didn't care enough to call her back so she wouldn't slip out of my sight.
I felt guilty saying that but it's better than to lie.
But when I saw her sister, big beautiful brown eyes assessing the party's crowd, my mind said what a small world it really was.
Her eyes met mine and the coldness in my body was replaced by heat flooding straight to my dick.
We were in the same situation before. A month before that. Her tears that day would've hurt me if I genuinely cared. I would've dug deeper to figure out why this poor girl was on the verge of a panic attack.
But I didn't. I had my own problems that day as well and no one cared.
My first thought was why the fuck she was looking at me. My second thought was why is she crying in a fucking crowd of people. But the warm tear caressing my cheek killed that hypocritical part of me.
I didn't really have anymore thoughts after that. My mind just drifted off to things more important than this weird girl.
But yet I was still curious. I looked back and made a second print of her in my mind. I needed to. Weird that I didn't know her but I still felt comfortable not being the only emotional one in this place full of disgustingly, happy people.
