Dead Flower (Sequel to The Flower Girl Book Two)

Chapter 24: Traffic

                                     Veronica

First time on a plane, I couldn't believe it was private! Thank god it was. Flower and I were both geeking out. The turbulence was not something Andrew warned us about. I didn't do much research before hand either. The air between Aubrey and I was stale. A good bag of chips left open but not wrapped up. We both said our hellos, but not much else.

I plan to talk to her when it's more fitting. What I mean by that is, when there aren't any five year old's around. I don't know what the choice of words to come out of my mouth will be. Definitely not stale. More flavorful like skittles. Why am I comparing everything to food?

Probably because I'm starved. Though I shouldn't say that. There are far more people out there worse off than I am. I think about Andrew. How he was left in the back seat of a Taxi. Hungry, crying for his mother to console him. I don't question why he doesn't want to meet his birth mother. I question why she didn't want to stay. Doesn't he want answers? I do.

Reading my mind, thankfully not completely. If he knew I was thinking of his biological mother, he'd only freak out on me again. "You hungry baby?" At a loss of words, I nod my head. "What do you want?" Now I have to speak.

My head is too consumed by what they expect from me. Husband wants his own personal whore. A wife who will do as he says when he says it. A dirty slut to submit to all those desires. At least I don't have the stress of what a mother would want from me.

Was it a bad idea to come along? Andrew and I seem to need some space apart. It would have done us good. That way we would both miss each other. "Vee. What do you want to eat?"

His eyes are bruised with the evidence of no sleep. Bags under his lower lashes, dark circles on the outside corner of his cornea. "A chicken Cesar salad." Andrew rolls those tired eyes in the back of his head, searching for sleep as they quickly close.

"You need to actually eat something babe. I'm going to get you a steak with mashed potatoes, and broccoli." Obliquely smiling at the fact that he cares, but I'm trying to lose some weight.

I can't sway his decision. Already injecting his wallet in the pocket of his sweatpants. I watch as the shirt strapped around his bicep tightens. Biting my lip, is the toxicity worth how incredibly hot he is? Should the sex outweigh his impulsive behavior.

I honestly can't see myself with anybody else. I definitely don't want to see him with anybody else either. Isn't it astounding how you can be having a great day, full of your own laughter, not everyone else's this time? Then a situation can just switch that happiness off to the most gruesome feelings in the world.

I stare into my hollow eyes. Nothing lives behind but the reciprocating thoughts. I often wonder if people do care. They don't. No one cares, even when they say they do. The only reason they even say the words is so you don't go out and do something stupid.

That's what I am though right? Stupid. Stupid for following a heart that should have imploded by now. The stress should have eaten my brain, but it hasn't yet. I'm waiting for my body to start eating itself. Once a day a meal transfers through the digestive system.

People will feed you false promises. I see women and wonder how they're so lucky? They have it all. At least that's the way it seems. Pretty privilege. Pretty women don't get beaten down. Their hearts are not ripped out of their chests and stolen from rejection. They can have and get anything they want.