Trusting Milo

XIV

I N D I G O

I couldn't face them... I didn't want to see the disgust in their eyes. I knew I would get caught eventually. I should've listened to my brain instead of my heart when getting too close with these people. After letting the silence increase my anxiety, I shamefully lifted my head.

Milo's eyes held pain and anger, but the disgust was present and I couldn't help but break down, knowing I lost all of my chances with him. I felt him embrace me and the action made me stiffen. Why would he hold me?

"Look at me, Indie. Please," I heard him say.

I looked up and winced as I saw so much hurt in his expression. 

"Talk to me," he pleaded.

I couldn't deny him-- I owed him my thoughts. "I-I'm so sorry...," I whispered out.

"Why on earth would you be sorry, baby girl?," he questioned.

"B-Because I'm weak... I-I'm flawed...," I stuttered out, not being able to filter my words.

His expression faltered and I watched as a small smile tried to sneak its way out of the corner of his mouth. "Oh Indie... you could never be flawed; you are the definition of perfection to me. And weak? Absolutely not... you have endured what no other person should ever have to, and yet, you have never taken the easy way out. You are not weak, mi reina. You are strong as hell," he said as he held my head in his hands, attempting to pour all of his emotions into my eyes. 

My heart tightened and I was sobbing like a child right now, unable to fight myself any longer with self-hate. I'm falling in love with the man sitting in front of me.

I felt his thumb wipe away a few of my tears, while he tilted my head up gently. I looked into his eyes and saw adoration gloss over. "You really are the definition of perfection. I can promise you, nobody will ever lay a hand on you again. You are far too innocent and pure for this world," he said-- his words shattering my heart to pieces.

"I'm not innocent or pure," I spat out, angry at his choice of words-- angry that the moment was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

"What's that supposed to mean?," he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"It means just that Milo. I'm not fucking pure," I stated harshly.

"What do you m--," his words immediately halted as realization flashed across his face. I watched as the hatred and indignation made his eyes squint and his jaw clench repeatedly.

M I L O

I was beyond infuriated at this point. The thought of someone else touching her that way, the way only I should touch her, made my skin fucking crawl. This beautiful angel has been tormented, beaten, and raped-- but yet she still has the heart to let people in, to let people be trusted. The one person that is supposed to protect and love her at all times is the one who potentially broke her. My anger was multiplied when I thought of the rope burn scars enveloped around her ankles, the finger prints wrapped around her little neck, the way she winced when she moved abruptly.

I lunged the chair and table at the wall, which clashed loudly and bounced to the ground. My dad ran up and grabbed my arm sternly. "Calm down Milo, you're scaring her," he stated roughly.

As if this was all I needed to hear, I stopped dead in my tracks. Looking back at her, I could see her eyes were widened, tears sliding down and dropping on her hands, and she was shaking in fear. I automatically felt guilty for being the cause of it-- that was never my intention. I slowly made my way over to her and watched as she habitually cowered herself back to the edge of the bed. I urgently picked her up, hoisting her into my lap, holding her lightly, attempting to show her that I would never harm her. She sat frozen in my arms for a minute, but then I felt her body relax against mine and her head lowered delicately on my chest.