|2nd Book in The Devil May Care Series|
They're more alike than they think.
At war with himself, Loki struggles to get his life on track. He struggles with manic depression-in other words, bipolar. He feels alone, trapped in his own mind as he refus...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Get her the fuck off me!" She fucking screeches.
I can hear yelling and panicking in the background but I don't listen as my fist drives right into her jaw with enough force to make her teeth rattle. My adrenaline was dangerously high, watching as she thrashes under me.
I don't give a fuck.
I was tired of her. Of everyone.
To many expectations and rules. Why was it impossible to accept me as I am? Was it really that hard? I didn't think so but nobody cared about what I thought so it didn't really matter.
I grunt in annoyance when I feel arms wrap around me pulling me up and forcing me to watch Azrael help the whining bitch off the floor, causing my anger to intensify. Did she not hear what she said? Did she not care? I let out disbelieving but breathless laugh.
Fuck her. Fuck everyone.
I hear someone telling me to calm down, tracing soothing circles around my hips. It doesn't work because I know exactly who it is. Just another person I don't want to be around. Twisting in his hold to face him, I shove him roughly, "Stay the hell away from me." I snarl, watching as he stumbles to reach out to me again but I storm out the room before he can even touch me.
I huff out a breathe of relief when I finally walk out of the building, feeling the cool air hit against my skin as my body relaxes. I drop my head into my hands, trying to focus on my breathing. Why was I like this? I'm supposed to be the happy one. The good one. The one everyone goes to for their problems but was that fair? What about my problems? Why was I the only person that wasn't allowed to feel anything other than happy. I hated it here. I missed my mom. I wanted to go back in time where she was there to love me, to hold me, and tell me it was okay.
I missed my baby brother. I missed when he was alive and healthy. I missed chasing him in the rain or painting his cute little face when he asked me too or just being in his presence. I just miss his beautiful smile, his contagious laugh, and his warm heart.
I miss being loved and cared for.
I hate it here. So fucking much.
But I hated being there even more. No matter how much I missed the good memories, the bad always outweighed them. Always.
Getting up, I start walking towards the way to my house while ignoring the buzzing in my pocket as I think back on a certain memory.
"Mommy, why are you crying?" I ask her quietly, not wanting to anger my father.
She sniffles looking down at me before reaching down to cup my face, "I'm crying because I'm sad." She whispers, "Can I tell you something, ya amar?" She glances around to make sure nobody is listening to her.
"When you grow up, I want you to leave this place. I want you to go some place where you're free to be your own person and live by your own rules." She tells me seriously, "I want you to take Amir with you and run."
