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"It is!" I'm screaming now, tearing at my hair as my breaths start coming faster and faster. "It is, it is, it is! You want me fucking gone!"
I feel the panic seeping through my blood into my bones and into the very marrow of who I am. I try telling myself to calm down. That this is just my anxiety, a panic attack of the worst kind, taking over me and forcing me to behave this way. But it's too late. The part of me that would rather hurt whoever it takes is in charge now, and she's calling the shots.
Raphael chases after me but I don't let him touch me, screaming and pushing over a dining chair as he comes after me.
"Don't fucking touch me!" I hiss. "I should've known I'm nothing to you! I'm fucking nothing to everyone..."
Angry tears spill down my cheeks as he tries to approach me. I grab a carafe of wine off the bar stand and break it. Blood red liquid seeps into the hardwood floor while I sob, holding the broken glass.
"Don't you dare fucking touch me. I know what I am to you. I know you think I'm worthless."
"Willa..." Raphael swallows thickly.
The version of me I've locked in a dark place inside my head recognizes how worried he is, that he wants to help me. But the Willa running the show tells her she's worthless. He'll just judge me and try to get rid of me for this freak-out. And it's better that it happens now than to drag this out for so long that it will really hurt me.
But I'm already hurting.
I'm hurting so fucking bad, and it's all my fucking fault.
"Please don't hurt yourself," Raphael begs me, his voice breaking. "Hurt me if you're angry. Put the glass down, Willa."
My hands shake even more, the glass unsteady in my grip. How does he know I want to hurt myself? Maybe he isn't so bad after all. Maybe he does see me for who I am. Maybe the Willa in control right now is wrong.
I take a deep breath and the glass falls from my hand. Raphael steps forward and envelops me in a bear hug I can't return because I'm shaking too hard. I sob against his chest uselessly.
"Willa, don't worry," he whispers against my hair. "I'll take care of you. For ever. I'll make sure you're safe and happy. For ever. You're mine now, trouble. For ever."
Slowly, his words seep into my thoughts and drown out all the doubts I'm having.
"Do I have to go back?" I ask brokenly.
"I don't want you to," he admits. "But we both know your family needs you, Wills. You need to make sure they're okay before you come stay with me permanently."
My doubtful eyes find his as I ask, "Do you even want that?"
"I want nothing more, trouble," he smiles to reassure me. "Now come on, we'll sit down and talk about what happened."
I let him lead me to the white leather couch where I sit on his lap.
"You must think I'm crazy," I whisper.
"No, I don't." His voice is clear and determined. "But I know something I've done must have triggered this. Are you feeling better?"
I nod and he brushes his fingers through my hair. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize for your feelings, Willa. Ever." He smiles at me softly. "But I want to help. Are Dove and Nox not being nice to you?"
I shake my head, feeling miserable. "They're amazing. They give me everything I want."
"Then why don't you want to go back?"
"Because I..." I swallow. "I don't belong with them. I want to belong with you."
"You do," he's quick to reassure me. "But they need you more than I do right now. And we can't be selfish and ignore that. Do you understand? As much as I want to keep you here for ever, it would be wrong, Willa."
I nod, feeling miserable. I don't want him to be right. I want to forget all about the family I never felt part of and replace them all with Raphael.
As if he's reading my thoughts, he says, "Don't you love them, Willa? Dove, Nox and the boys?"
I think of the twins and their crazy pranks and shenanigans.
I think of Nox with his quiet, brooding attitude and the reluctant smiles he gives me.
I think of Dove, so caring, so warm, so loving.
And I find myself nodding.
"See." Raphael kisses me again. "Maybe you can be without them, but right now, they can't be without you. And sometimes, it's on you to take care of other people when they need you."
"I guess," I whisper. "But this doesn't mean we're over, right?"
He grins at my pleading gaze, tugging on my long strands of hair. "Why would it?"
"It would be an easy way for you to back out," I mumble. "Because my parents don't like you... It gives you a good excuse to break things off. Go back to your normal life."
