💙mitchel💙: how would you feel if something happened to me?
💙mitchel💙: all that guilt
💙mitchel💙: how could you live with yourself?
💙mitchel💙: knowing that it's all your fault
"I can't fucking take this anymore!" I sob, tears flooding my cheeks as I ball my fists, pacing the kitchen.
"You need to calm down," Clinton says from the other side of the island, extending a gentle hand, which I slap away.
"How could I? How could you expect me to calm down right now?" The nearest cookbook goes flying, hitting the wall feet away before dropping to the wall.
"Vana," Christian sighs from the same side of the island as Clinton. "Don't throw things. It won't solve anything." He's trying to be the voice of reason, and it's only riling me up even more.
💙mitchel💙: you're so fucking predictable
💙mitchel💙: you'll be back
💙mitchel💙: you always are
💙mitchel💙: you just can't stay away
💙mitchel💙: can you?
💙mitchel💙: vana
Another item goes flying to the wall, this time a cup full of utensils. As my hand releases it, a scream leaves my raw throat. The sobs I'm emitting seem to only be getting heavier. Calming down simply doesn't even seem like a viable option right now.
💙mitchel💙: how about those pills?
💙mitchel💙: i've been taking mine again
💙mitchel💙: because of you
💙mitchel💙: i hope you're taking yours
💙mitchel💙: cunt
"Do not throw the glass," Christian's voice is raised, not enough where he's yelling, but enough to startle me. Before I even have the chance to hurl the half-full glass towards the wall, his hand is on my wrist, tightly, ceasing any movements I want to make.
"Let me go," I cry, turning my shoulder into his chest in an attempt to push him away. Obviously, I'm not strong enough, and he doesn't budge.
"I'm not letting you go, Vana. That's not what's good for you right now." As Kras speaks, Clinton walks around to the other side of me. Now that I'm unable to move, it's safer for them to be over here.
"I hate you," I spit through my tears. I don't mean it and he knows it; but in a moment of heated aggression mixed with passion such as this, emotions are high as ever.
💙mitchel💙: i'm going to find you
💙mitchel💙: you're going to regret ever leaving me
💙mitchel💙: vana
💙mitchel💙: vana
"Stop looking at your phone," Clinton says from beside me. "You're only making yourself worse right now."
"You don't know what's fucking good for me." My words are like venom, hot and poisonous, hurting their intended victim. However, I don't really want to be hurting Clinton or Christian. I want to be hurting Mitchel; but since he's not here, they're the next best choice. I have to get my anger out on somebody, they just happen to be the closest targets.
