Her Hope (On Hold)

[ Chaper Eight ]

After I made sure my father was in stable conditions, I excused myself to get some fresh air. For obvious reasons, he granted me permission immediately.

I definitely needed some fresh air. I needed to breathe.

I had no clue where I was walking or my current whereabouts, but I couldn't care any less.

My life had been one traumatic experience on repeat, each couple of years followed up by a new tragedy.

At this point, I just was waiting for something awful to occur again.

The sun was going down rather quickly as I caught sight of a completely deserted park. It was vast, filled with trees and flowers, which gave me more space to take in everything.

My mother died because of me.

I fell onto the ground, leaning against the log of a tree for support.

If I had never been born, she would still be alive today.

I glared at my sneakers, beginning to resent myself even more as my mind hurled the truth at me.

If I had just died, she would still been here.

I couldn't contain the tears any longer.

It was all my fault. Not my fathers... Mine.

They cascaded down my cheek one after another as I clenched my jaw repeatedly, forgetting how it felt to just let go of everything and cry.

Everyone at the mafia thought I was this courageous girl, that I survived the man who attacked me because I was strong. But that was all a lie.

It was all one big lie.

And all I wanted was my mom to tell me that everything would be alright.

"Eleanor?" I looked up, completely and utterly vulnerable and on display for Tristian Jefferies.

I was too exhausted to put on my brave girl face and fight the world, so I averted my gaze.

"Hey, hey, don't cry." He soothed, promptly sitting down next to me with a frown etched on his face. His hand grazed my chin as he turned it so that I was completely facing him, our eyes locked.

Snake. Their all snakes. Don't trust him. Leave. Snap at him. My thoughts became too much to handle as I began to cry even more from the unbearing pressure.

He wiped away each and every tear that fell, in which I surprisingly felt comfortable with. A small smile tugging at his lips when I eventually calmed down.

"W-Why are you being so nice to me?" I croaked out, my vision foggy as I tried to make sense of it all.

"Because-" It seemed as if even he didn't own an answer himself. "I don't know, I guess I just know what it feels like..." He quietly replied, swiftly checking up on me to change the subject.

"Are you going to be alright?" He asked, finally releasing my chin. Clearly worried that I would break once again after he left.

"Yeah. I guess so." I pretended to be okay, nodding with a petite smile.

He seemed to pick up on it, a full-blown smile now visible on his own face. He stood, outstretching his hand. I frowned, "I thought you were leaving." I said, slipping my hand into his much larger ones.

He cocked his head to the side with a confused expression, "leave you alone? I don't think that's possible, even for a second." He winked, hinting about the first time we met.

I rolled my eyes, aimlessly walking around the park with Tristian by my side.

And for once, I felt genuinely fine.

Which scared me.

• • •

Several days had dwindled by since I had last talked to Tristian, or even acknowledged him.

There had been various occasions in which he would try to catch up with me, however, I always tended to ignore him.

We shared two classes, which were the only two classes I was always in the earliest in, making sure students surrounded me.

Whenever he tried to switch seats with someone close to me, I'd ask to be excused and end up ditching the rest of the period.

Was I being a stone cold bitch?

Yes.

Was it cruel of me?

Absolutely.

Did he deserve any of this?

No. Not at all.

I held my books close to my chest, strolling down the empty corridor in bliss when a bunch of students leaped out of the shadows, blocking my path to the cafeteria.

"What do we have here?" One of them smirked, stepping in front of his group. No doubt their 'leader.' "Ms Morgan in the flesh, is it not?" I kept my unfazed demeanour in check, seeking humour in the fact that they didn't, nor could ever scare me one bit.

I had faced gang members much tougher than their puny, pubescent selves.

"And what is it to you?" I queried, taking in his appearance. With bristly jet black hair, clear blue irises, a lip piercing on the left side and a sharp jawline, he wasn't too bad looking. Too bad he was clearly an asshole.

"Oh it's everything to me sweetheart." He countered, sauntering towards me in large, confident strides. "You see, my friends and I want to eliminate you." He whispered the last part in a taunting manner, chuckling at his own comment with a crazed look in his eye, his group soon following.

I waited for them to finish while they discreetly gouged my reaction. I blinked, as if I wasn't paying attention to what he had previously said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this the part where I'm suppose to act as if I felt belittled by your little attempt to scare me? I, being the daughter of one of the strongest mafias to exist in this entire state. Possibly even world." I took a few steps forward, proving that I wasn't the one to be afraid in this little exchange. "Threaten me again, and I'll bring hell down on you and your little groupy, and when I say hell, I mean creating seperate pools of blood for each person here, sweetheart." I made sure he got each world I spoke before I shouldered past his shocked state, rolling my eyes as the rest of them quickly looked away.

I guess being a Morgan really does have its own little perks.

• • •

I'm so sorry that I'm slow, but for those of you who began reading this story to observe the relationship develope between Tristian and Ellie, it's coming!

Next chapter is honestly, no lie, where it begins.

I can assure you of that ;)

Dont forget to vote and comment if you enjoyed! :)

xo