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I know I’ve made progress, but I still feel the need to take the edge off. I’m scared shitless to feel anything. The grief for my father’s death, mixed with my disgust for him. The worry that Andrew may do something awful if I don’t show up to the wedding, especially after finding out he tried to get Dion killed.
So, I take more pills, and for a moment, I don’t have to think.
I know this is dangerous, especially with my recent history of addiction. Every time I pop another tablet into my mouth, I’m haunted by the fear of falling back into old habits. It feels like I’m fighting a losing battle.
Like I’ve taken a step back in my recovery, and it’s frustrating. I want to stay strong, and I can’t live like this forever. Something has to give, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face what comes next.
Since my father died, I’ve had more of a reason to become a recluse.
My mother moves around the house like a hollow version of herself. Her eyes now dulled by sorrow and betrayal. I see it in the way she gazes into the distance sometimes, lost in memories that bring more pain than comfort.
My baba was a terrible man, and we never knew. How could we have been so blind?
I’ve never felt so disgusted in my entire life.
But the loss of my father doesn’t only haunt my mother.
I loved him something fierce. We were a tight-knit family—until he surprised me with the engagement news.
Now, I can’t un-know the darkness he carried with him. The lies he told, the secrets he kept hidden behind his ‘doting husband and father’ charade.
I thought I knew him.
I trusted him with my whole heart. But that heart has now been crushed, shattered into a million pieces I can’t put back together.
And Dimitri…I’m sure he’s hiding something from me. I see it in his eyes, the way he avoids my questions, the way he changes the subject whenever I ask him about the snippets of conversation I overheard while in the hospital. It’s driving me insane. What could be so terrible that he can’t tell me?
Speaking of the devil, there’s a knock on my closed door.
“Hey!” Dimitri yells from the other side. “Can I come in?”
I’m sitting at my vanity, staring at the new scar across my chest.
“Yeah, sure.”
He pokes his head in. “Are you decent?”
“Of course, I’m fucking decent, you twat,” I retort, throwing a makeup brush at him.
He ducks to dodge it, laughing, and steps inside.
When he notices what I’ve been doing, he frowns. “Riri, there’s no point in covering that up. Be proud. You’re officially badass. You’re like Scarface now.”
I chuckle. Even though Dimitri is now head of the Kastellanos family, he hasn’t lost his playfulness, and it makes me happy to still have a sliver of my baby brother, despite the demands of his new role.
“Well, if you put it that way,” I say with a smirk.
It’s not that I necessarily think the scar is ugly.
I saved Angie’s life, and that’s something I’ll never regret. It just represents so much, everything that happened over the last couple years.
“How are you holding up?” Dimitri asks.
“Better than most in my situation, I guess,” I shrug.
He sits on the edge of my bed and taps the mattress for me to join him. When I do, he puts his arm around my shoulders, bringing me in for a hug.
“You’re doing amazing, Ri,” he says, pride shining in his eyes.
