Death Wish

Chapter 15: I'm Not Going Anywhere

I run out of the car and bolt to my front porch. I hear Lorenzo slam his door, but I'm already inside with my back against the door. His desperate pleas rip me apart from the inside-out.

"Linnea, please talk to me! What happened? I know I changed your opinion, why can't you admit it? I'm sorry, I can't hold up my end of the deal. A life without you as my friend is unthinkable. Please talk to me," he begs, banging on the door.

I slide down the door and put my head in my hands. Why can't I admit it? He's right. Which just adds to the ever-growing list. He's funny, smart, gorgeous, and extremely thoughtful. He doesn't let what happened to him in the past dictate his life. He is always putting others before him and is always there for a shoulder to cry on. He is an amazing person who would be an amazing friend. So why can't I admit it? Because I am terrified of being left again. I'm not worth anyone's time. So why's he bothering? Even if I let him into my life, he'll leave me. Just like everyone else. I have no one and am destined to be alone.

I get up and walk down the hall to my bedroom. I stare at the photos and posters littering the walls. A particularly large photo stands out. It was of Kol, Brietta, and I blowing out our candles on our sixteenth birthday. My parents stood in the background, smiling at us, oblivious of the camera. I smile fondly at the memory. We went go-karting that day, for Kol, the art museum, for Brietta, and horseback riding, for me. My parents made a big deal of our sweet sixteen and spent a ridiculous amount of money. My smile fades when I realize that they're not coming back. Why?! I lose it and scream until my throat goes hoarse. My legs give out under me and I fall onto the floor. I'm done being sad. I'm not weak. I run to the basement and rush to the punching bag, untouched for years. I never had the guts to go back to the place where my father trained me. I clench my fist and ram it into the bag. Why did they leave me? Why me?! Why am I the one suffering? Why? Why? Why?

I punch the bag with each question. My knuckles start bleeding from punching something so hard without protection and I welcome the pain. I need something to fuel my anger.

I hear something crash upstairs, but ignore it because I'm too focused on murdering the punching bag. Why? Life isn't fair. It sucks. What am I doing living it? I've lost everything. There's no purpose to me. No purpose to living. Better make this better for everyone and extract myself from the equation. Then Thibault will get his wonderful inheritance and Lorenzo will stop wasting his time on me and Dr. Vasdrik can stop bandaging me and everyone can have a wonderful life. Without me in it. I go ballistic on the punching bag and hit it so hard, some sand leaks out of the bottom.

"Linnea!"

I ignore the voice and continue my slaughter of the punching bag.

"Linnea!"

A hand is on my shoulder and I swing around and punch the face in the eye. I wake up from my tantrum and see that I just gave Lorenzo a black eye. Or what will be one. Seeing Lorenzo, all my anger comes flooding back.

This was a game. He can't come back and twist my feelings. It doesn't work that way. He doesn't have that right. I don't like the way he's making me feel, so I start hitting him. First, lightly then I gradually hit him harder until he starts flinching and backing away. He grabs my wrists and looks into my eyes.

One look at his piercing green eyes and I wake up. Again. Worn out, I rest my head on his chest. He puts one arm under my legs and the other behind my back. I feel a soft cushion under me and in my tiredness, I snuggle closer to the warmth of the person and away from the cold bed.

"Please don't leave," I murmur.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," he says, kissing the top of my head.

I smile and snuggle closer to the pillow.

...

When I wake up, my head is on something hard and my arm is draped across something bumpy. I look up and see my arm across Lorenzo's abs and my head was on his rock-hard chest. He is sleeping on his back with his legs tangled with mine and looks so peaceful. I walk my fingers up his chest and over to his chiseled jaw. In this state, he looks almost angelic. With his perfect ski-slope nose and long eyelashes, he's perfect. My fingers dance over his face and trace his eyes and I imagine the gorgeous orbs staring at me. I can't get over how perfect he is. He is just wonderfully wonderful and it all seems like dream. I can't believe we're friends. I've decided that he is a good guy and I am a terrible judge of character.

He opens one eye followed by the other.

"Hey," he says in a husky morning voice.

I internally swoon and slap myself.

Get it together! We're just friends who are pretty close. He'd never want you. But you can enjoy the attention while you have it.

I smile and greet him back.

Taking a deep breath, I say, "You are different than what I imagined. You took care of me when I needed it and that is what changed my mind."

He smiles and pumps a fist into the air. I chuckle at his silliness and get out of bed. Moving around the room, I grab a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants to change into.

When I exit the bathroom, Lorenzo is gone, the only trace of him is the lingering scent of peppermint. When I walk into the kitchen, Lorenzo is rummaging around the kitchen, looking for spices.

"What are you making?" I ask as I sit down at the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice.

"French toast. Do you know where the cinnamon is?"

"Far left cabinet. You cook?"

"Yep. My mom wanted me a domestic as possible. But French toast is the only thing I can make."

I chuckle and watch him move around the kitchen with ease.

"You know, you can take a picture. It would last longer and I don't have a bad side."

"Hmm...no thanks, I'll pass." After a pause, I ask, "Are you doing anything today? It is Sunday after all. Any parties to attend to?"

"No. Are you asking to take me out?"

"No. It's just I didn't want to pull you away from any plans you might've had. I don't want you to feel obligated to take care of me."

He looks over at me briefly and says, "I would never feel obligated to spend time with a gorgeous girl. This is all on my own time and my own choice."

I look down and blush, covering my face with my hair. After a couple minutes of silence, he loads plates with sticks of French toast and carries them to the table. They are a perfect golden brown and look delicious. I pick one up and when I bite into it, I literally melts in my mouth.

"Wow, these are really good!"

"Well, don't sound so surprised!"

I smile and stuff more of the goodness into my mouth.

___
A/N

Video: I'll Be There For You by The Rembrandts

Have any of y'all seen the entire season of 'Friends'? Who loved it? I know I did.

Yay, she forgave him!

Who is your favorite character so far? Least favorite?

Remember: constructive criticism is always appreciated!