Pretty lies

thirty- an angel

Alessandro Marino:

"On behalf of the entire station, I am so sorry for this little miscommunication." The captain apologises for the third time.

"It's fine, don't worry about it." I just to get the fuck out here.

At five o'clock in the morning, I would want to be sleeping, anything other than coming down to the police station.

As the captain walks away, Solo storms through the doors. Dante trails behind him like a lost puppy.

"I got your call. Where are they at?"

"I don't know."

When the captain called me, he said there was a dude with her. I mean, what the actual fuck? Her siblings are missing and she's hanging around with some guy.

"There's the little criminal."

I turn to see Isadora walking towards us, a powerful frown coating her face.

"What's up your ass?" I ask her, trying not to look over at the man next to her. From what I did see, he has stupid fucking hair.

"Not you."

The fucker over here starts choking on nothing. That's embarrassing. Tristan doesn't help as he is now struggling not to fold in laughter.

"Pull yourself together man."  Dante nudges the asshole over there.

I turn to see Mr weird hair and Isadora are already out the door. There are two cars outside : mine and Dante's. She's not leaving with them.

"Isadora, stop walking so goddamn fast!" Nothing.

"I need to talk to you." Still nothing.

"Stop being such a brat."

"What did you just say to me?" There it is.

"You heard me perfectly fine."

"Isa, maybe you should just-" Nope. This guy is not getting involved in this shit.

"Hey, shut up Joe, this doesn't concern you!" He looks like a Joe to me.

"That's not even my-"

"You look like a Joe so that's who you are to me."

"Is that an insult."

"Depends on how many Joes you know." I have met seventeen guys called Joe in my life and I'm only twenty seven.

"This is so stupid." The little brat adds.

Without saying a word, I lean towards her and she is thrown over my shoulder. The familiar position is one that has become very prominent in our- thing.

"Every fucking time."

"It wouldn't need to happen every time if you'd listen like a good girl."

"Excuse me." She says, shocked by my choice of words. I meant what I said and I make no apologies for it.

I can only guess that her face is all flustered and her nose is scrunched up. That's what she does when she's horny ,but she doesn't want to be. The more you know.

With one hand, I open the car door while the other lifts her off of my shoulder, keeping her in my grasp.

"Get in the car." 

A sigh leaves her lips as she slowly climbs into the passenger seat. She's looks less than impressed by this ordeal.

I now sit next to her as we make our way home. The ride is silent and tense. I feel the heat of her body nearby and it takes everything in me not to reach out to her.

"Why?" That's all she says to me. No further questioning, just why.

"Why what?"

"Why can't you just leave me?" That one hurt a little bit.

"I don't know. I don't like being away from you." I confess in a low and hushed voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologising to me?"

"I'm sorry I made you be all weird and shit." She laughs at her own words. I don't see what's so funny.

"Would you like to elaborate?"

"You've gone all soft on me, Marino. It's not a good look on you."

"Don't call me that." I hate when people call me that.

"It's your name, isn't it."

"My friends call me that." A few of them do.

"Am I not your friend?"

"No." That's all I can say to her. I don't want to be her fucking friend. You can't exactly say that to a girl without sounding like a dick.

"I think we are." I shake my head at her continuance of the subject. One thing you will find with Isadora Rose: she will never believe that she is wrong.

In a flash movement, I jerk the wheel left, steering away from our road home.

"You were supposed to go-"

"I know."

"Are you gonna kill me?"

"Not yet."

"You kind of look like a serial killer."

I turn to the mad woman next to me and she turns back. The look in her eyes tells me she's not kidding.

"Why do you think I kill people?"

"Assumptions." We haven't had that conversation yet. She was already distraught when I told her about the life she was born into ,so I couldn't really explain then.

"What would that make you think of me?"

"What?"

"What if I have killed?"

She doesn't come back with a witty or sarcastic response. She doesn't berate me for my past. She simply looks the other way.

"Please say something to me."

"I wish I was dead sometimes." No.

"Don't say-"

"I'm not suicidal, if you were wondering. I just wish that for a second I didn't have to be here."

It hurts to Isadora say that about herself. The woman I see is far different to the one she speaks of. To me, she is full of life and worth. I see this angel in-front of me whilst she describes a stranger.

It hurts.

"I don't like it when you talk like that."

"I don't think you like when I talk at all."

"You're acting like I hate you."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you hate me?" Fuck.

"I could never hate you Isadora Rose. No matter what, I will never not want to be around you, I will never not need to feel you or hear your stupid ass stories." I need her.

"So, no I don't hate you."

"I think you're a dick."

"I can live with that."

"You are definitely a serial killer." I laugh at her silly choice of words. No one has ever used term that to describe me and I strangely find it quite amusing.

I have never been so grateful for a detour. This is most she has spoken to me in days. Days.

I thought she was done with me. Done with the secret kisses and simply being in each others presence. Her tolerance of me is the kind sent from heaven. She is my fucking angel .