𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

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Blaire 》

I can't not be with Jake. He holds enough information over me to makse me feel like jumping off a cliff is the safest solution. It would be the best way to avoid the embarrassment after everyone knows what a piece of crap my father is. As much as I didn't want to believe that. As much as it guts me to admit it to myself, I can't keep being delusional. It's enough that I can't be with Levi.

Not that I had any chance with him. I can't believe I'm not allowed to admire Levi for his beauty and his gentleness with me in everything. At least from afar. If Jake found out I even know a male that isn't a relative, God knows how much dirt he's willing to dig up on me to scare me enough to stay away from him.

I quiet literally live with Levi now. That is if I don't want to get eaten alive, of course. I can't believe I'm not crying right now. My lack of emotion is starting to worry me.

I can't believe I can't have him anymore.

Yup, that's sadness. I knew my case wasn't that bad.

I'm more sad about the fact that I can't admit my attraction to Levi than the fact that there could be a possibility my father ate my mom. Literally. With a knife and fork. And possibly, a spoon.

It was nice knowing I was free to make my own choices even if I was restrained mentally. At least it wasn't in pretty literal form.

Or was it?

It's overwhelming how many things I want to buy -need to buy- yet I have absolutely no money to buy nearly as much as I need. I need to get tampons since I ran out of them at Levi's house. I need to get some under clothes from the clothing section. Some pickles. That's for sure.

I only have fifteen bucks on me. It'd be too much if I asked Levi for anything.

We walk around the aisles, Levi next to me with the cart and putting everything he usually buys, asking me what to get every few minutes. It's adorable how he thinks it's necessary to ask me what to buy since I'm mostly at his.

He's currently standing in the refrigerator section, directly in front of the cheeses next to all different kinds of pickles. Ghost pickles. Green chili pickles. Kosher dill pickles. Brined pickles, my personal favorite. I'm dying. I need to grab them. I peer at the prices, my eyes widen when I see they're 5 bucks.

Why do you need 5 bucks for a jar of Brined pickles?

I'd rather pickle my fingers.

I clear my throat, looking back at the tall frame next to me with a well-mustered smile like I didn't just get traumatized. I see him looking around for some type of cheese, quite frustratingly.

He sighs, exasperated with himself before looking at me for help with a tired smile that says 'save me, please' or at least that's what I interpreted it to be.

"What's up?" I ask in a decently sweet voice. I didn't intend for it to be this soft, but I simply forget myself when I'm with him. And I've accepted that fact ever since that night when we noticed each other in our windows.

I still hate myself to this day for not taking the chance i had, the one that was available for two months to tell him about my past or who i actuallyam. I say 'had' because I no longer have that. I can't tell him about my life now, because A) i feel like im suffocatingeverytime i talk about my father. And B) this is a much more importantreason than A, if i told on my father, my mon would most likely get a heart attack in her grave if he was in trouble.

His face drops to the floor, clearing his throat before facing the cheese like I'm not even here. Like he's avoiding my gaze. That tugs at me a tiny bit. A tiny bit. Tiny. "I'm looking for this type of um- cheese. It used to be nonna's favourite and I can't remember the name for the life of me."