đź’‹Emotions Pt IIđź’‹
I'm thinking about what I could've done differently in the past. I should've taken the bullet when it was offered to me.
"Fucking hell." Every mistake my mother made with my father, it's like it's in my blood.
Is this the last night I'll see? Doubtful, but the thought is there, gnawing at me.
He looks through me. He saw my soul tonight, and no matter how much I pretend to be tough, I'm fucking terrified.
I don't want to die. I honestly don't want to die.
He brought me into this room and left me.
I've never been in here before. The last time I was in a room like this, I was hanging from the ceiling, helpless.
Now, I'm sitting on this bed, knees drawn to my chest. I've fucked up.
Badly. No denying it. Basket had guided me silently—didn't even look me in the eyes as we moved across the floor.
The carpet beneath my feet felt softer than usual, or maybe it's always been like that.
I'd never noticed before. I was too focused on plotting Block's death to care about the details.
I never recognized his taste in décor until now.
People would ask me what the hell's wrong with me, but.
.. I love him. And even if part of me wants to kill this man, I can't picture myself doing it.
"Would he kill me, though?" My thoughts spiral, but before I can dwell, he glances at me again, his eyes playful, yet dark.
His words land like darts, aimed to sting. I can see the fire in his eyes, his frustration barely contained. He's pissed. So much so that he keeps his distance. That's how I know I'm in deep shit.
His words are cryptic, his meaning lost on me. I stay quiet. He knows I'm scared. Lost, even. He's reading every twitch in my body, every breath.