Her Street Fighter

19.

Chapter Nineteen
Nathaniel

I was mad at her. I went outside and lit out a cigarette. I felt the burn in my chest, but it felt good. It made me feel something else.

That stupid cat shred up my dead brothers blanket he used to have as a kid. How did the cat even get to it? I hid it in a spot high enough where only I can reach it. It must have fallen on the ground when I got something out of my dresser.

I tried not to let my emotions show, but I felt the sadness eat me alive. It kept gnawing at my insides and I couldn't swallow this horrible feeling that sat at the bottom of my stomach.

I had to leave because she thought I was going to hurt her. I would never hurt her no matter what. Even if it was something important to me that was ruined, like my brothers blanket.

I threw the butt on the ground and stomped on it to put the fire out.

I needed some time to breathe and I think I had enough of it. It was getting cold and I was annoyed at the world for doing this to me. They had to take him and that was more than enough.

I go back up to the apartment to see Marebela packing up her stuff. Her cheeks stained with tears. Even though it was her fault, it wasn't at the same time. She didn't know the cat was going to do that and she just wanted company. It was probably hard being isolated up here for so long with nothing to do and no one to talk too. Especially when I was at work.

She needed to go out and make friends. She could start by getting a job, just because I was not letting her work at my store doesn't mean that she can't get a job somewhere else.

I stopped Marebela from packing any further, by placing a hand on hers which let out a scared gasp out of her lips.

"Don't," I told her weakly. I didn't have much strength left.

"Don't what? You want me to stay here, even though I—" she started. "Even after the cat ripped up your blanket because I let her in."

"It's not mine," I said grumpily.

Does she really think I would keep a blanket for myself? Does she think I sleep with it at night? God, what else does she think of me? I was not some delicate little boy who sleeps with a stuffed animal and cries over a blanket.

"I don't get it." Her eyebrows furrowed together. "You're not mad at me?" she asked.

She closed her eyes and took a sharp breath in like she was scared to know the answer.

I didn't answer. I was mad at her, but I was more sad at the fact that the blanket was gone. The last thing that was holding me together with my brother has been wrecked and there was nothing I could do to get it back.

Part of me was still mad, but not mad enough to let her live on the streets when she has nowhere to go. I would never forgive myself if anything bad ever happened to her.

I found myself speaking before I can stop myself. "Let me take you somewhere."

"Where?" she asked, her eyes looked up to mine and I couldn't look away. They held me captive, every fleck of hazel pierced my brain and I forgot all the reasons that I was mad at her.

I started speeding up on the road when she was in the passenger seat. I knew how much she hated when I did that.

She looked over at me with surprised eyes but I kept staring at the road. I had to pay attention, just because I was driving fast doesn't mean I was going to look around and lose control and kill her in the process.