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As someone who loves nothing more than to sleep, last night my thoughts only deprived me of what I wanted most. Needed even. I could feel the weight of my body when walking to the kitchen to make coffee in an attempt to wake myself up, even if it only helps my eyes open a centimeter wider than the current hooded state they remained in.
The hour was already pushing eleven in the morning but it felt like a continuation of the past few days. What had kept me up last night was a new found form of deeper curiosity compared to the already formed interest that has been picking at me for weeks.
It could also have something to do with the alcohol.
Nix had only answered a fraction of the questions I have but now even more questions have formed—a never ending cycle. Along with the curiosity is warning signs. I don't know if now would be the time for me to see the red flags with the choice to continue to speak and see Nix. I myself even was surprised when I told him to come the following day—today.
He didn't give me a for-sure answer but a part of me expected to see him later at some point. Just from the mere fact that he made the effort to come yesterday, I felt like that was only the start of the whirlwind that is, Nix Romano.
I won't lie and say I didn't try to google the name he had mentioned, The Red Ashes. The sole name that sounded like a prison sentence. It comes as no surprise that dark businesses took place in the deepest parts of such a big city, I just didn't expect someone in my now 'circle' is—was apart of one, if not thee largest one.
In the google searches, as expected, nothing was found. No social media finds, hashtags, nothing. Not even a name. It was worth a try in the moment though, or so that's what I'm telling myself.
What scared me the most though was Nix had been right up there with the leader.
What kind of level of evil did one have to hold to be associated with something like that? —But Lex's words still remind me that he isn't bad and if I was going to trust anything about him, it would be from his own blood.
That doesn't stop the firing questions on how he became apart of such a group in my mind? What all did he have to do? Questions about his father, mother, questions going as far back to the unforgettable comment made on that damn rooftop.
Yet underneath all the interrogating, I just wanted to know him. The now him, not just whatever past he was ready to leave behind.
