What the hell do I want?
6
Luna
“How did you get… to this?” he asks, his palms up, gesturing to all of me. I don’t answer. I don’t want to. Look at him in his nice house and clothes, and look at me. We obviously had very different lives.
“What happened after you left the hospital?” he prods, and my cheeks fill with redness. I want to slip into the soft mattress and disappear. Why couldn’t his father have taken me instead. Shame and humiliation wash over me like a splash of acid. Sliding off the side of the bed opposite of him, I open the door, run across the room and quickly rush to his bathroom, I saw a lock on the door when I was in there last time.
“Luna?” he calls after me, fueling me to go faster. “Luna!” His voice commanding me to turn around.
I reach the bathroom door, slam it and lock it. The door handle jiggles from him attempting to open it and my feet backtrack to get farther away, my eyes glued to the door.
A loud thug has me jump when he hits the door.
“Open the door, Luna!” he demands, but I don’t, in fact, I move even farther away from it.
“No!” I shout, my voice hoarse. He stops knocking but I can see the shadow of his feet from under the door, he’s still there.
A noise as if he was leaning against the door and slid off, has my eyes widen, curious what his next move is.
“You can’t stay in there forever,” he growls, his shadow and hard breaths slipping away into silence. It’s like a beast prowling just outside the door, waiting for me to surrender.
“Watch me!” I sneer.
I climb into the tub, pull my knees to my chest and tuck my face into them. My eyes burn wanting to cry, but I refuse. God, I’m so scared. What if he decides to sell me back, or what if he’s lying and doesn’t want to help me? He’s obviously not a normal person, otherwise why would he have been there to buy women?
Trust is like a thin layer of skin, so easily broken and scarred.
I’ve been cut to the point I trust nobody, my scars of distrust so thick I barely notice who I am when I look in the mirror. Who does Romeo see when he looks at himself in the mirror?
Romeo
Standing just outside the door, my fingers in my hair, I’m fucking angry. No, furious. Why the fuck did she run? Why is she hiding from me? Backing up until the back of my knees hit the bed, I sit, my hands fisting the side of the mattress. She is fucked up, really fucked up. Curling my fist in on itself, it makes me want to hurt the people that hurt her, the ones that made her scared of her own fucking shadow.
I’m glad she didn’t leave when I told her to, she needs someone and I can’t let her go, not while she’s like this. I’m going to figure out what happened to her, even if it takes killing every man down the line of my father’s crew.
7
Romeo
Two hours later I find the keys to the bathroom, I’ve never had to use them before, so finding them was a fucking chore. Sliding the key into the knob, I unlock it, open the door slowly just in case she’s just around the corner ready to attack me with a damn shampoo bottle, but I find her asleep in the tub. She’s beautiful, more than I remember. Reaching out, I don’t hesitate this time, I touch her skin, the contact electrifying. She’s warm; soft. She moans, her eyes filtering as she dreams. Reaching into the bathtub, I pick her up, she wraps her arms around my neck, her face nuzzling into my chest. I suspect she doesn’t realize she’s doing it, in fact, if she did, she’d probably claw my ass up and down.
I don’t like people touching me, nervous of intimacy and hurting undeserving people, I keep my distance, but feeling her in my arms like this, I take my time walking back to the bedroom. Her touch doesn’t hurt, and the thought of her wanting more from me isn’t as scary for some reason. Maybe because I want her. I’ve always wanted Luna, but my mind is stuck on the kid I met years ago. Who is she today? Her hair is so long it’s wrapped around my arm and still has enough to dangle. In the guest bedroom, I place her on the bed and pull the blankets over her, she snuggles into them. I’m surprised she didn’t wake up and claw me to death, she must be fucking exhausted. Maybe knowing she’s here with someone she knows, she can let her guard down some and actually sleep. The moon outside the window shines on her face, my eyes drifting to her lips. They’re the perfect shade of pink. Sighing with my own tiredness, I rub my neck and begin to leave the room until my eyes fall on the notepad. Taking it into my hands, I flip the pages, all of them filled with a dead sunflower.
I wonder what it means to her? Glancing at her one more time, I set the notepad down. Closing my eyes, I can still hear her voice, see her face.
“Did you know that on dark days sunflowers turn toward each other for energy?” She tilts her head to the side, waiting for me to reply.
Opening my eyes, I look at her sleeping peacefully.
I know what I’m about to say is cheesy as fuck, but it’s something between her and I.
“I’m still your sunflower,” I whisper into the moonlit room. “And I’m going to find out what got you here, and I’m going to make everyone who hurt you fucking pay with their own pain
