Hunted by the mafia, memories and secrets in Rome/Tom Kaulitz story

Chapter 11

Tom’s POV

I looked at her, sleeping in my car. Her cheek was swollen and it was glowing in a dark red color from a slap, making my stomach clench.

That asshole.

I’m going to kill him…

I forced my eyes away, back to the road. That piece of shit would pay for what he did. I didn’t care what the consequences would be, just as long as Anthony got what he deserved.

I could feel my arms hurting from my fingers all the way up to my shoulders. Noticing my hands gritting the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white made me release them slowly and stretch out my fingers.

Dammit relax Tom!

I was mad. No I was beyond mad, I was malicious.

The feeling was burning inside my entire body so intense I had a hard time focusing on the road. They hurt her, they hurt Taylor, just like that over something that wasn’t even her fault. It was her father’s.  

The hatred that my body was feeling was something I hadn’t felt in a long time and it was not something I liked. I had felt like this for months two years ago but I had managed to control my anger to feel better. I was more peaceful but knowing what Anthony did to her, what he could’ve done to her clogged my mind in a black fog.

Feeling myself almost biting my teeth apart I decided I really needed to cool down to be able to drive back without getting into a car crash.

I pulled into the curve of the road and closed my eyes and took deep breaths. Nothing happened and she’s all right Tom, she’s okay.

I managed to control my temper and feel more relaxed as I heard a small snore next to me.

Surprised of the sudden sound I looked over and saw Taylor cuddled up in the corner of the seat. Her hair was tussled up and her dress was dirty at the bottom but I couldn’t help the way my chest ached.

She had talked to me tonight and even though those bastards basically kidnapped her, she had needed me. Even though it was incredibly selfish of me, it was a good feeling. In fact it was so incredibly addicting to know that she needed me.

I leaned back and stretched into the backseat of my car and fished up my blazer. Shaking it a little bit, I tossed it over her to keep her warm and I couldn’t help but to smile at how she grunted satisfied and slid further into it.

For a moment it felt like old times, like when she fell asleep in my bed after a long day and helped herself with carefully selecting one of my t-shirts to sleep in. I suddenly felt the urge to kiss her, touch her cheek to make her feel sheltered but I restrained myself.

Blake was right, she wasn’t mine and she would never be again.

I’ve said it to myself so many times these past two years, repeated in my head to move on, that I didn’t think it would affect me anymore, but hearing someone else saying it hurt.