My Opp's Sister 2

𝟏

𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐚'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕
𝟐 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

"Casyo. Casyo. ...Casyo."

You can't stop loving him. He betrays your affection and leaves your heart in pieces. He steals a part of you and makes it impossible for you to put yourself back together. Yet your heart longs for him. It longs for his muscular arms and smooth beard. It longs for his affection.

Why?

Maybe you hope he returns what he's stolen. He never does. He just takes more. And for him, more is never enough. He can take you, he can take your heart, he can take the hearts of a million; but it would never be enough for him. His blood is cold. His heart can't love anything but itself. He smiles and it's intoxicating. His fingers brush through your hair and it's addicting. He laughs and it's contagious. Him and his flirtatious self. He knows what he does to you. And he loves it. He loves when you suffer. What kills you gives him life.

You look down at the scar between your breasts, then continue staring out of the window. It's a chilly December evening. You can't see much through the iron bars anyway.

Broadmoor Mental Asylum.

Your home for the past 8½ weeks.

People thought you were nuts. You lost a lot of weight. Your beautiful hair had fallen out. When you looked in the mirror, you laughed. This can't be Queen. This isn't Rebecca Romano. Where's her curvaceous figure and jet black curls?

Nobody believed you. You knocked on so many doors, trying to tell people who you were and what Cas had done. They'd called the police instead of hearing you out. They thought you were mental.

Ha! If only they knew.

'There's a mad woman at my doorstep pretending she's a celebrity,' an old man had said on the phone to the police right in front of your face. '...she's black.'

They placed you here. 'We hope you'll find it comfortable'. Comfortable? Oats for breakfast. Oats for lunch. Oats for dinner. Compared to your velvet sheets at home, this mattress was rock hard. You're stuck in this square room 24 hours a day. Let out to shower and use the toilet one. No TV. Barely eating. 

At first you had pleaded with them. Call Uma Romano! He'll remember me! They didn't call. To them, you were simply a mad stalker. You cried day and night. You cried for your son. The thought of him waking up and not seeing you pained your chest. Or was that just the scar?

You've accepted that the love of your life shot you to keep a promise to a dead person. And you don't care. You just want Zakai. It's been 2 months. You haven't seen his smile or brushed his hair or tickled him or fed him or changed his nappy. What do you do with yourself? Because besides being a business woman and a model and a singer and a girlfriend and an influencer, you were a mother.

So now you're not complete. Every morning when you woke up, the first thing you would do is check on bunny. Your day doesn't start right and that means the rest of it doesn't follow right. Nothing's right. But there's one thing that's kept you sane being stuck in here.

The Bible.

It's crazy. You always knew there was a God but you've never properly read the Bible. It was in your room when you came, though. And you started flicking through it to pass time. But the more you went on, the more you enjoyed it. Reading and praying. Just talking to God. Because your heart is a different type of heavy and you don't know what else to do.

How many times have you tried to escape? How many times have you ran your arm under the hot tap for hours straight because even though it burned, it was numbing your pain? How many days and nights have you cried until you threw up? How many times have you screamed till you lost your voice?