Dear Bridget,
Damn did I miss your drunk texts... How's your love life? Me and mum just saw export liquor in the shacks and guess what? You owned the store! All by your addictive workaholic sad life... No, seriously...
Remember the time we first met? I knew there was something fishy going on. If it weren't for that Greek royalty we would have lived a bloody lie till the end of the century. Westminster is the only place I want to live with you and dad. They're married, why not settle? Anyways I always pray for you and me to not end up like their history. Call me if you need anything, okay?Love, Natasha
~~~
She raised her brows, puzzled. Carefully, she kept the piece of scented paper back in the envelope and in to one of her drawers, the one dedicated solely to her beloved sister. She's having half a mind of agreeing with what she's read but still too irresponsible to think through. Gnashing her teeth she thought of a way out of her mind. She needed to feel that something was done. Uncontrollably, she chose to cling to her most contagious habit, knowing she'd face a consequence afterwards.
She trolled down the fields and ended up drenched in dirt which she didn't mind sleeping in for six hours in the terrace under the shade, like a depressed psycho. The dread exposed from her eyes, she knows what to expect to see in the mirror as her eyes opened.
"Why a bastard from New York?"
She complained for hours as if no one could ever hear her. She looked at her glass realizing she drank straight from the bottle, and felt conscious since her mother taught her proper behavior in the short time they've been together, the short time she'd sell her soul for which can't be lengthened. Fate always seem to interrupt and cut her optimism out, and dictating her to try harder in achieving her father's satisfaction. Her supposed to be ally, a man from another huge clan, flooded her mind with nothing but hatred for the past few weeks. Walking to her desk for a ton of paperworks, she prepared herself and exceeded for more, and then fell asleep in the living room. She dreamed of him, a distorted dream that made her postpone the request to have him out of the picture.
After waking up in a nap and taking a long shower she went back outside to inhale some fresh air. Sitting on a firm branch she gazed without direction towards the misty sky in the cold morning arising. The soft breeze made her feel cold for not drying up. In her wet blouse she scrunched her nose from what had been a hangover from two bottles straight.
"I seriously doubt it..."
Her father chuckled as he stepped in holding half a bottle left for her, and that he will continue to drink seeing his daughter sunk in a headache. She jumped down from where she's sitting to kiss his cheek. After the slight effort of movement she felt a sore jolt from head to toe and scrunched her face for feeling dizzy for half a second. He choked out about his conversation with her mother for hours last night on his laptop. She was half listening, inwardly laughing to herself and tried to be neutral for as long as she can take.
YOU ARE READING
Four Walls to Mend
RomanceBridget Darcy yearns to grasp the cliche achievements any mundane girl would want. Aggressive yet naive, a few new found significant people convinced her to roam the bigger world of city lights, with a wine glass in hand.