Burning Heart ▹ CIAMPA [COMPLETED]

36 ▹ now

• NICOLE'S P.O.V. •

Tommaso drove us back to his apartment, which was half mine now, too. I was still reeling from the phone call that I received only a few minutes ago from Bianca, herself.

I wasn't going to answer, but I felt deep down that I needed to. She needed me to hear her cry and scream, to know that she is breaking deep down. Bianca is struggling, from what happened with us, to her failed relationship, and to the loss of her adopted father.

Tom was like a father to me, too, though. I used to ran away from the orphanage to go to Bianca's house. I would sneak in through her window and she'll yank me inside, which always made a thud sound. Her father and mother, Eleanor, would come and see what the racket was. I'd hide under the bed and, when Eleanor left to go back to bed, I would always hear Tom say: "I suppose Nicole is here?"

He always near and I'll peek my head out. He'll smile, say goodnight and that he loved us, and left to go back to his bed. He didn't care or mind, even if I broke the rules by running away. Eventually, I just started staying with them without them ever having to sign the papers to keep me.

Bianca and I would stay up almost every night to watch wrestling until our eyes bled, always watching with her older adopted brother, Lincoln. We all had our favorites and always talked about becoming professional wrestlers, too, but that's just it, though. It was all talk... Until we made it happen.

It made me feel really sad that Bianca and I weren't so close anymore, that she betrayed me like she did and practically punched me in the face afterwards when I confronted her at the hospital. It felt like actual blows to my gut with each word that she said, because it was the truth. Or, at least, her truth.

I felt my phone vibrate, so I grabbed it out of my pocket and saw that I had a new text message — which was from Bianca, apparently.

We said what we needed say. Nothing more and nothing less. I was still hoping that she and I could talk more, but I didn't know how to talk to her anymore. Even if I was passed what happened, it still felt so damn weird to talk personal with her or to talk at all.

I felt pressure on the couch beside me, which was Tommaso who smirked and placed his arm over the back of the couch. He had popped some popcorn and turned on the TV, hoping to take my mind off of what's really tearing me down.

Everything was.