Tu es à Moi

Ride with my baby

GREG POV

I can feel her eyes on me, watching, scanning, and judging. The monster, with that cold, calculating gaze, is sizing me up, probably wondering if I'm worth her time. It's infuriating. Trying to hold back my annoyance, I gently slap my hand on her desk, just enough to get her attention but not enough to show how much she's getting under my skin.

"So," I say, keeping my voice steady, "what do you think? Does my idea sound great?"

She doesn't respond. Her face remains expressionless, but I can tell she's thinking something. The silence stretches, and just when I'm about to repeat myself, I hear her whisper something under her breath.

"This girl's really out of her mind... does she think I'm going to waste my time training a little monster?"

I stiffen at her words. Little monster? Me? My hands clench into fists. She's dismissing me, pitying me. She'd rather be dealing with Katherine and her weirdness than spend a moment with me. I see her walk back to her precious swivel chair, as if I'm not worth another second of her time.

Does she really think I'm nothing? That I'm not capable of more than her pathetic little followers? The anger boils inside me, and I feel the heat rising to my face.

Fine. She wants to ignore me? She'll regret it.

Without another word, I stand up abruptly, turning my back on her. I don't care if she's still staring, still sitting in her stupid chair, looking down on me. She'll see soon enough. I stomp out of the room, slamming the door behind me with enough force to make the walls shudder.

I need air. I need space. I walk through her dreary mansion and out into the garden. Of course, it's just as lifeless as she is. Dark, overgrown bushes and twisted trees fill the space, as if color and vibrance don't exist in her world. Everything about her reflects this darkness—her personality, her life. She's stuck in it.

"Shit, that monster," I mutter under my breath, storming toward one of the trees at the edge of the garden. "The way she was staring at me earlier... it killed me."

The frustration finally bubbles over. I throw a punch at the tree, my knuckles colliding with the rough bark. It cracks under the force, and I feel blood trickle down my hand, but the pain? I don't feel anything. I never do. Not since I was a kid. Wounds, bruises, cuts—they never seem to hurt. It's like I've always been numb, physically and emotionally. And honestly, I like it. The lack of feeling makes me stronger. It makes me dangerous.

"She'll see soon enough," I whisper to myself, eyes fixed on the blood dripping from my knuckles. "She's not the only monster in this world."

I punch the tree again, harder this time, and more blood splatters across the bark. But it doesn't slow me down. The anger fuels me, and in that moment, I realize I don't care about the consequences. I'm ready to prove her wrong. I'm not one of her puppets. I don't belong to her world. I'll carve my own path if I have to.

Before I know it, I'm in the garage, standing in front of my car. My sleek, black machine waits for me, its engine calling out like a beast ready to be unleashed. I slide inside, feeling the cool leather under my hands as I grip the steering wheel. My head is spinning, and I don't know where I'm going, but I don't care.

I slam my foot on the gas, and the car roars to life. The tires screech as I speed out of the garage, the engine revving louder and louder as I push the pedal harder. The wind whips past me, the world outside becoming a blur as I drive faster and faster, not knowing or caring where I'm headed.

I'm riding with my baby—to nowhere. But maybe that's exactly where I need to be right now.