She isn't fine like she pretends to be. On the contrary.
Liliana Storm Whitlock is shattered into a thousand pieces, used from the ones she loves, betrayed by the ones she loves, broken by the ones she loves.
So she lost herself.
And it all seems t...
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My eyes are shut closed, I'm unable to open them because I know he is towering over me right now. I feel his presence right above me, closing on me while I'm stuck with my back against my wall with no escape.
My lungs feel swollen, unwilling to take in any oxygen to keep me alive.
I'm dying.
I shake my head, feeling the weight of my thoughts and emotions bearing down on me. My arms wrap around my body, tightening until my nails press into my skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. The pain is a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside, offering a momentary escape from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume me.
Hands wrap around my wrists to tare them away from my arms, making a sob escape my lips, because it will only worsen my situation. "No ! No ! No !" I sob but shut my mouth in a second. I can't make a sound he will only enjoy my suffering even more and make it worse.
But unlike what I expected the touch against my wrist is gentle.
Soft. Not forceful as it brings my hands against a firm chest.
And slowly I start to feel again. I feel the warmth emanating from my naked skin, a heart beating fast but regularly under my touch. The thumping of my heartbeat against my ears slows as I strive to concentrate on the sounds of the world around me. Voices...
"It's just me princess...You are okay."
Princess.
This nickname. I- he...
"Open your eyes and look at me princess. It's just me." The voice is gentle, comforting and nothing like what Thomas would say.
"Come back to me."
Still trembling like a leaf, I let myself trust this comforting envelop that this person is offering. Trust. My eyes slowly crack open, but my vision is blurred with tears that continuously stream down my cheeks.
And suddenly, a hand cup my face before a finger slowly brushes the tears under my eyes. The contact makes me jump back, but the hand doesn't back away, it only readjusts the grip to continue running soothing circles on my cheeks.
As my vision clears, I finally distinguish his face.
Rhys Heartlow's face.
His eyes find mine immediately, pure worry coating those cinnamon-brown eyes. He doesn't remove his hand when my breathing slows, as I finally realise that my head was playing with my mind the whole time.
