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“That…still means I could use the words.”
“You won’t, because you know that will destroy the connection we have.”
“And let me guess. You get off on that type of domination?”
“Besides the one where I throw you down and dick you into the nearest object, yes. But that’s not all.”
“Your need for violence?”
He nods. “I’ve had it since I was the lone survivor of the accident that took away my parents.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I told you to stop apologizing for things you had no hand in.”
“It’s in my nature. We can’t all be emotionless vaults like you, who only feel when violence is involved.”
“That’s the thing.” He looks at me funny. “My urge for violence has become less important since you.”
28
Naomi
You know that feeling when you’re so excited, you can’t stay still?
When your fingers keep clenching and unclenching to do something and you feel like throwing up from the strength of those emotions?
That’s me right now.
I skip over the steps as I go downstairs. I’m humming along with a tune from a rock song I was blasting first thing this morning while I got ready.
Today, I abandoned my headphones in my room and I even wore a short dress with pink and white stripes. Mom made me this one for my birthday two years ago and I never wore it. I was even mad that she’d think I’d appreciate something so cheerful.
Today, I’m in the mood for brightness. For…happiness, I guess.
After last night, there are no other words to describe what I feel right now. Not only did I have a heart-to-heart with Sebastian, but I also ripped open the stitches and allowed a weight to lift off my chest for the first time since that red night.
The therapists don’t count. They thought my negative emotions toward my mother were toxic. That I was destroying the mother-daughter relationship we could be having. They secretly judged me for it and I secretly saw my mom reflected on their faces.
Sebastian, however, didn’t. He didn’t call me a freak or irrational.
He understood.
Not only that, but he told me things about himself, too. Instead of going back to the party, we kept on talking. Me, about my dad and how I hired a PI to find him just so he could tell me that he’s most likely dead. And Sebastian told me about his uncle and how they have a power struggle against his grandparents.
Nathanial Weaver intrigued me since I met him that time. Not only is he cool, collected, but he also seems to be the only person Sebastian respects enough to hold on a high pedestal.
I say respect because I don’t think he’s capable of caring. At least, not in the traditional sense of the word. But even that doesn’t stop me from celebrating the fact that I feel more emotionally close to him than I have been with anyone else before.
Even Lucy doesn’t know about how deep my mess goes. She’s aware of my ‘daddy issues’ but not really my ‘mommy’ ones. She always looks up at Mom and says she’s this strong, independent woman that she strives to become one day.
That makes one of us.
After I got home last night, I was in such a delighted mood that I sat down and wrote a letter, too. This time, I sent it.
Dear Akira,
I know you said you don’t want to listen to me whine or talk about my problems, but you’re going to. Deal with it or stop writing me.
