Page 141 of Sinful Lord

I can already feel the tears welling up in my eyes when Tytus opens up the door and steps into the hallway.

Before he shuts it, though, he stops. A deep sigh empties his chest. Finally, he looks back at me.

“I’m doing this for you,” he says. “I’m doing this because I want to make you mine. Forever. Are you mine, angel?”

I can’t answer. All I can do is stare at him and wish this wasn’t so complicated.

Tytus just nods

“Then I have to keep working.”

With that, the door closes. The lock clicks into place. I’m trapped, once again.

Tytus’ heavy footsteps slowly disappear down the hallway. But I don’t budge. I can’t. It feels like a single movement could unleash the flood building up behind my eyes.

I’m sick of crying. I’m so tired of fighting every last little feeling that Tytus inspires in me.

But I can’t just ignore it. I can’t forget about him.

He loves me.

Do I love him?

“Fuck!” I cry out. My legs give out on me. I plunge into the bed and start crying into the mattress.

The exhaustion builds. The conflict spills from my eyes.

It’s hard to tell how long I sob for, but when I finally pull back from the covers, the sheets are soaked through.

I sob just a little bit more.

Why am I so helpless? Why have I always been so helpless?

For once in my life, I want to feel in control. But how the hell do I do that?

I’m being pulled apart by two different forces. On one side, I have the love of my family, desperately trying to drag me back home. On the other end is Tytus. Whatever we have is so strong that it pulls me away from everything I’ve ever known.

He said he loves me.

But what have I done to deserve such a thing?

Slowly, my tears dry up. My brain starts to work again. I try to think my way out of this mess.

I’m running out of options. I need to regain control of my own life.

No. Not regain. Begin.

I need to begin taking control of my own life. Never before have I actually had any say in what I do next. Even escaping my gilded cage turned out to be Tytus’ idea.

So, what do I want to do next?

Shit.

I have no fucking clue.

Turning onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling and let my swollen brain run wild.

I think of Tytus. I think of my family. I think of his family.