ROMEO (book 1)

50. DELILAH

TW!!

I stare at Romeo sleeping peacefully. He just fucked me and then fell asleep.

I can't sleep.

My mind is racing.

I look over at his phone sitting on the bedside table.

I told myself I would never be one of those girls. That I would have trust for Romeo, enough trust to not snoop through his phone.

I lean over him, picking it up. I know his password, so I type it in and pull the blanket over me.

I start with messages.

Mom. Matteo. Dad. Delilah. Asher. Leo. Ilaria. Luca. Alessio. Emilio. Malory.

I click on Malory's contact.

He was asking where I was. Asking if she could dance for a group of his men for a Juniors 18th birthday. There was nothing concerning.

Everything else was work related. His men. Some women he's worked with; his aunt Keilani. I remember him talking about her.

I check his photo's next.

His nudes.

My nudes.

Some random girls nudes.

Kelly.

Kelly beat up.

A video of him laughing while someone hits Kelly.

A video of him jerking off to someone having sex with Kelly.

I slap my hand over my mouth, crying.

I scroll up. He has more random nudes of random women. Pictures of his family members. More of his own nudes. Pictures of me. Pictures of us. Pictures of some random stripper girl.

I didn't need to see anymore.

I turn the phone off, drop it, get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. I pull his shirt off my body.

What does he like about them that he doesn't like about me?

My boobs aren't big enough.

My tummy isn't flat enough. I want a flat stomach. I don't want thighs that touch. I want to be skinny and pretty like them.

I didn't need to force myself to be sick. I throw up everything. All the sushi I ate, everything I ate with Romeo. I throw it all up in the toilet bowl.

Then, after that. I stick my fingers down my throat and make sure to get everything else out. He wouldn't cheat on me if I looked like them.

I flush the chain, sitting against the counter.

I hated the rolls on my body. The body hair I have everywhere. I open the drawer and grab one of his razors. I shave everywhere I could. My arms, my stomach, my legs, the hair I have on the back of my neck. I do as much of my back I could.

I had so many cuts after.

I throw the razors back.

I'm still not like them.

I'm not pretty enough.

I cover my face with my hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

The door opens, "Delilah?"

I don't answer him.

I ignore him.

I ignore him when he sits beside me, when he pulls me into his lap and cradles me. I pretend it's someone else. I pretend it's my dad. I always wanted my dad to hold me when I was upset.