amora bisognin
home was always quiet.
no other soul lived there, not even any maids, staff or pets.
just me and my thoughts, running freely, no obstacles.
i was sitting at my balcony, looking up to the sky, my eyes heavy and hands sweaty. i quess you could say i had a rough night behind me.
the nightmares kept coming back, slowly and steadily, and i didn't know if i could take them anymore.
too many times i have woken up in the middle of the night, my throat dry from screaming, hands and back sweaty from rolling around in despair and my eyes bloodshot from all the crying.
tonight was no different.
i think the clock was 4:28 am, or at least it was the last time i checked it.
i took my phone from the glass table and went to my contacts.
c, d, e..
e.
ethan dolan.
i pressed his icon and hesitated for a moment.
was i doing this for sofia or for myself?
then i pressed the green phone icon and took a deep breath before pressing the phone againts my ear.
i need this, i need this, i need him.
it ringed for six times before he picked up the phone.
"what." a groany, deep husky voice exhaled to the phone. i shivered.
"ethan.... please." were the only words i could stutter out. i was sniffing uncontrollably and a new set of tears started flooding from my eyes.
"amora?" his voice peaked, showing interest.
"please help me, i don't know what-what to do." i cry to the phone, my legs now pressed against my chest, my other arm holding them together. now there was no going back. my head started hurting again, no matter how many aspirins i took a while ago.
"are you okay? are you hurt?"
"i don't know- i-it just hurts. a lot."
"amora? where are you, i'm coming." he demanded and i could hear him getting out of bed, besides all the heavy breathing i was making.
"home."
"where is home?"
"golden estate. highest floor. tell- tell the receptionist that edward gave y-you permission."
"who the hell is th-"
i cut the line.
silence.
and then my head fell in between my knees and my other hand lingered on top of my head, trying to squeeze the headache out of me. the pain was unbearable, the feeling of disgust was unbearable and i swear to god if i could even get up from the floor, i would've already done something i would've regretted later.
but you can't regret anything when you're dead, right?
