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Some say that when you're drowning, your life flashes before your eyes. I suppose that has to do with any instance in which you're dying, whether it be drowning, being buried alive, or anything that's slightly traumatic and quick.
Right now I'm drowning.
Not literally but figuratively.
I'm simultaneously being burnt alive and drowning. Is that even possible?
My head is a discombobulated mess and nothing makes sense anymore, my grip on reality is slowly but surely slipping away from me and I'm angry. I'm pissed. I'm furious. I want to set Liam alight like he has set my entire world alight. I want to take one of Harry's special HS engraved bullets and put one right between Liam's eyes so Harry can backstab him as he did us.
I know an eye for an eye is never good but I feel like in this case it can be justified.
I've been wracking my brain for the past week trying to figure out who I could've taken from this 'Ghost rider.' Harry explained that there was a woman in the car with Liam during their talk, she looked older and had longish hair.
Does he know how many females I've betrayed in my lifetime? How many people I have put away? How many identities I have faked and trust I have stolen from people?
The list is long and it won't get any smaller anytime soon, except maybe it will considering this all dates back to Kaia dying. That was before my days of being in a gang. Before I murdered my father. Before I joined MI6. Before everything.
There was a slew of women in my sperm donor's life, ones that particularly didn't like me because I was too loud, too opinionated, too out-spoken. They preferred me quiet, small and hidden away in my bedroom with the door locked as they did nefarious things, unaware of the fact that he was doing the same to his teenage daughter.
I inhale the smoke from the cigarette slowly, letting the pain of it burning the back of my throat reminded me that I'm here. I'm alive. I will overcome this and I will find Liam and burn everything he loves to the ground.
I will make him feel my wrath. I will make sure he feels every ounce of my pain.
The door to the balcony slides open and a red plaid blanket is placed over my shoulders, a ring-clad hand that can only belong to Harry reaching down to yank the cigarette from my own lips to bring it up to his.
He comes into view as he sits down in the chair across from me, looking out at the cloudy view of London. "Penny for those pretty little thoughts in that pretty little head of yours?" he questions.
I'm just happy for the distraction, watching as his lips wrap around the cigarette to take a slow inhale before he passes it back to me.
"Don't think my thoughts are that pretty right now, H," I breathe, taking the cigarette from him so that I can take my hit.
