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I cried. I was called a spoiled girl. I kicked their seats and screamed. I was called insane.
A noose around my neck and a stumbling chair would have felt more comfortable than the heavy diamond Conor forced around my finger.
And Rose…
She chooses others. Not me. Always others.
I know it’s not her fault she disappeared that day. I know she got taken. But I can’t help believing that had it not been the case, she still wouldn’t have come back to me.
She always leaves.
And every time, it’s a new fresh wound, a new way my heart breaks. Like it never happened before.
They say you can never remember pain. You think you can, but you can’t realistically remember how bad it hurts. A way for your body to protect you. You always know when something will hurt, hence why none of us will purposely put our hands in a fire. We know it will burn and that it’s painful. But we can’t truly remember how badly.
I can cognitively remember Rose hurts me.
But for the life of me, I can never remember what the experience actually feels like.
Until tonight when it happened once more. My heart broke all over again. Because while Sam was watching me in my own house, she was getting off on Lik’sfuckingshoe. She was letting him touch her in his car.
Now Sam is offering me the girl I’ve always wanted all to myself. Offering me to take over as I’ve always dreamed of. I’ve controlled Rose before, but never nearly as much as I have wanted to. I’ve shown her my fiery demon, but only as much as she could take. And I always took a step back whenever I felt she wanted that control back.
Not anymore.
The idea of doing crazy things to her, and her not having a choice but to take it…It turns me on so much that I can barely stop the need shaking my bones.
Sam walks back into the living room, and my heart skips several beats, palpitating to a rhythm of overexcitement.
He isn’t even holding her, a simple hand on the small of her back suffices to keep her close.
She is more beautiful than ever. She’s still crying, however silently. And while I am used to the color of a night sky when I look at her, I’ve never seen the thousands of stars that could shine so brightly in her gaze. They light up her face and enhance her beauty. Her eyes are red and puffy, adding a cuteness to her that she doesn’t usually have. She sniffles, running the back of her hand under her nose, and I notice the reddened tip.
And I understand why I suddenly find her more beautiful than ever: she looksvulnerable.
“What’s going on?” she asks, eyes darting all over the room, black dilated pupils taking everything in. Her voice is raw, breaking more than it usually does. She sounds like she doesn’t have the strength to fight anymore.
My hand tightens around the handle of the knife I’m holding. I want to destroy her further. I’m finally seeing the weaker side of her, and it brings out the powerful side of me.
Lik moving next to me and into my field of vision makes me realize that I’m not the only one entranced by her beauty right now. It’s never shone brighter.
Sam drifts his hand up her back, between her shoulder blades, until he can wrap it around the back of her neck.
“She’s stunning when she cries, isn’t she?” he tells Lik and me. “She’s irresistible with tears streaking her face.”
Neither of us replies. Rose squeezes her eyes shut, forcing tears still stuck in her lashes to roll down. When she opens them again, they’re on me.
“Do you know why you’ve never seen Rose cry?” Sam asks me.
I shake my head in negation, my eyes not leaving hers. I always assumed it was because of her heart of stone.
“Because Bianco loved it so much. She knew when she did, he would keep her to himself for hours on end. Just to watch beautiful, golden tears light up her face.”
Rose’s face twists at the mention of her previous foster dad, and she retreats into Sam, turning around so she can bury her face into his chest. Jealousy accelerates my heartbeat, though I try to ignore it.
“She is terrified of crying. She associates it with bad things coming her way rather than the result of bad things that havealreadyhappened. A bad omen. Simple reaction to trauma, really.”
A sense of sickness spreads in my stomach from enjoying her tears. How fucked up am I that I’m adoring seeing the girl I love at her lowest point? Being reminded of years of her life that turned her into the wounded woman she is.
