Watching Her

chapter 23: Mateo

I felt guilty. More than guilty. I felt rude and ignorant and stupid. Everything at once, like I was my teenage self again. But I also felt grateful. I was thankful that she shared her emotions with me. I had thought that she had nothing more in her head than shoes and money, but this, this was so much more.

Of course I expected that she had emotions there and then, but this? This situation we were in currently? This wasn't an emotion. This was a crash from every side, like the pain was squeezing her from the inside out. Like she threw up all of her emotions and that sadness and pain were the ones that she still choked out after.

I could not help but feel guilty for this as well. I knew that bI had not treated her correctly, I knew that nobody should ever greet their guests this way. Yet, I had felt scared from the first moment we had met. I had never felt this way. It was not an exciting way of being scared, it was a real, "What will happen?" feeling. It was as if I suddenly did not know how to talk and walk around her.

And seeing her like this - to be honest - I still did not know what to do. A girl had never cried in my arms. Hell, a girl had never been in my arms. I was acting like a stressed teenage boy, but I was aware that her feelings were not those of a typical teenage girl. I knew that she should not feel this way, this was too much. This was fear in her eyes, abandonment, punishment.

She did not like to share her emotions, especially not with somebody she had only spent a few days with. Not that those days really counted as I hid most of my time in my office. I knew I could not tell her that this situation hit me just as hard as it hit her, but right now, even that assumption seemed ignorant.

The Winterson's daughter is spending her time at my mansion in Italy, so that she gets back on the right track and is prepared for her life after her eighteenth birthday.

It did seem quite confusing now, that she had never spoken up about the agreement that we all decided on.

"Why does everything matter? Tell me, why is everything that I do wrong?" Her voices hit me like a stone would have hit my head, just without the pain. A stone would have felt better than her words, I was sure of it.

I wanted to tell her that nothing was wrong, that her eyes seemed so innocent and kind, nothing could ever be her fault. I wanted to know the reason behind all this, why was she feeling this way.

She could never do anything wrong. She could never hurt anyone. She could never be anything else but perfect. Why could she not see the the way her best friend had lit up the moment she had seen her? Why could she not have heard the conversation between me and the driver, that he told me that she was feisty, yet had respect? Why could she not see the way she talked, walked, dressed? Everything about her was so perfect, why could not she herself see it, but everyone else?

This was more than being angry that I tore her away form her 'little' party. This was more than despising me. This was more than being upset. This was more than wanting to get a reaction ut of me.

This was a deep meaning and something that I could not just get out of her like that. She was tired from all the pain that had been consuming her. Since when was she feeling this way? Why was she feeling this way? Who had done this to her? What had happened?

I wanted to dig and not stop until I would hit rock bottom, until I was only made up out of blood and sweat. And even then, I would continue. I felt the urge to find out more, to protect her from her pain and fear. Seeing her this way was... Excruciating. It showed the side of a person that I had never noticed.

"Who told you that?" I asked. I wanted to find out the person who told her this. This had to be something happening frequently, it certainly was not a 'one time' happening. I knew this manipulation and I knew how to end it. I knew how to protect her from it. I knew but I needed more information. I just hoped that I was able to get it out of her.

"He did." Her voice broke in the middle of the sentence, a sound I never knew I hated until I heard it again tonight. I could only assume as she continued to speak. The smell of salty tears filled my nose.

"He hurt me!" She was screaming into my chest, into my arms. She was screaming at him, I knew it. I knew that she was imagining him, standing in front of her. It would help her, but only for a second, because it was not real what she was doing. She had to do it in person.

She began to thrash in my arms again, caught in a nightmare. Her arms swung around her as I tried to comfort her, hold her, even though she was making it hard for me.

"He hurt me!" She kept on repeating the sentence as I pulled my arms around her tighter to stop her from hurting herself with her frantic crying. I took deep, long breaths in hope that she would follow them, that she would calm down.

"I don't want this, please. Please, stop, I'm sorry." She was whimpering, whispering to herself as her voice finally managed to fully break me. I knew this was not the time for me to cry, but her words stabbed me directly into my heart. I shuddered once while she continued to cry silently into my now wet shirt. It did not matter anyways, her crying was a reason to ruin everything.

I wanted to provide her warmth, comfort, safety. I wanted her to change during her stay, for the better. I had gotten told that she was troubled, but this? This was not troubled. This was a person in her troubled world, it was not the same. It could never be. I wanted to understand, for once. I wanted her to explain, but she could not.

"What do you not want?" I frantically asked her, wanted to ask a million other question, but I tried my best to hold back. She only kept her head low, did not even look at me once while she twisted the fabric of my shirt that was probably now soaking.

"Get him away from me." She breathed out, as if having run a marathon just before. She clung so tightly to my shirt, she started pinching my skin beneath it. I covered her entire body with my two arms as we both were crouching on the floor. I hoped the pebbles did not hurt her. her shoes were probably killing her.

"He is away, he's gone" I whispered, trying to reach her ear. I continued to wonder. Was she talking about an ex-boyfriend? Somebody who had broken her heart? A teacher maybe. I had to stop myself from debating, this topic was angering me, making me furious. I hated the person who had even tried to hurt her. I hated him.

I hated Angelo who was all over her, kissing her, trying to get to her neck. Maybe leave a couple hickeys there. And for every one I would have pulled out a teeth, slowly but surely and framed them to send them with him, away.

I hated my colleagues who had been watching her as she had left the dining room, mouth wide open, as well as their eyes. Nothing but sex in their mind. Even my deepest friends, I wanted to hurt those too.

"You're safe, principessa. Please, stop crying." I begged her, not remembering the last time my voice sounded like this, but I did. I wanted to put an end to her tears, I really did. And I would do everything possible one day to follow that plan. To end her sadness and pain someday.

I did not know why, but I suddenly felt a deep responsibility.

Don't forget to vote and comment!