Completed on 24/09/2018
Tell me who hurt you?" It was a command. I could have been afraid and probably told the whole of my traumatic childhood but I shook my head. There was no way I was telling him my darkest secrets.
"I will find out..I always...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sophie
*unedited*
Tears clogged my throat, blurred my eyesight, and soaked the top I was wearing.
My feet were unstable; my body shook. It was a wonder I could run. I felt worse than the day I discovered Raphael was in the mafia, perhaps because this time, he had knowingly chosen to betray me, consciously broke my heart by touching and fondling a woman who wasn't me.
I didn't look back at the house, did not glance to see whether he was following me; I stared straight ahead at the bright cloud, the beautiful sky that was a total contrast of the gloom that now resided inside of me, yelling at his betrayal, at how cavalier he had done it; without a single thought of how I would feel.
He kissed her the way he kissed me, touched her with the same hands that touched me, caressed her the same way he did with me; I was devastated emotionally.
I kept seeing his hand beneath her skirt.
I didn't know how and where to begin, but I knew I had to be smart about my next move.
My head was beginning to hurt, my breathing a bit too erratic, but I guess it was to be expected; my life had just fallen apart.
I couldn't continue to love him. Give myself to a man who thought so little of me. It made me realize that he had never given anything of himself other than his money; after all, he had so much, I knew he couldn't spend all of it in his lifetime. He had nothing to lose.
It was time for me to go. Time to pick up the pieces of my heart, put them back together, and walk away before he could completely destroy me.
I couldn't take it anymore; I refused to cry over him anymore, yet even as I thought that, I could still feel tears profusely falling down my cheeks.
I feared that the love I felt for Raphael would keep me from leaving him, but I swore the same love was going to be the strength I needed to leave him. I couldn't live in a world where I had to share him; that would destroy me.
It wasn't fair to compare my father with Raphael. Still, as I stood in that beautiful Rio sunset, I thought of the ways both had broken me—my father both physically and emotionally, while Raphael had hurt me emotionally. Still, somehow, ironically, Raphael had hurt me the most.
I had been happy for a while; he had made me happy—truly happy. But it had all been an illusion; none of it had been real. His whispers in my ears, his concern, he feigned it all—it had been a charade.
Nevertheless, I did not regret loving him; I loved him, still did, but I couldn't help myself from despising him a little for betraying me, but mostly for letting me love him, knowing very well, he could never love me back.
