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COMFORT ME FROM AGONY
~WILLOW~
I’m probably dead.Yup. Dying. Finished. Unalive.
“You’re rather dramatic when you’re trying to recover from a hangover.”
Poor Bria sounded just as miserable as I was, which I wasn’t sure made me feel better or worse for drinking so much fucking whisky that I probably would have died if I was human.
Thank you, shifter metabolism.
I was thankful as fuck that one, everyone was asleep right now — even Dimitris — and two, the washroom was located in some faraway corner down the hall of whatever place we were currently staying at.
Why there wasn’t a washroom in the bedroom was beyond me.
From my frantic yet silent race to the bathroom, I got a glimpse of the outdoors from the windows. It felt like we were in the middle of nowhere; the surroundings of trees and mountains left me wondering if we went to Antarctica or something.
In fact, I couldn’t figure out why we would change locations unless we had become criminals while I was unconscious, but that didn’t seem very logical right now.
Even with my pounding headache.
With a grunt, I flushed the toilet for what had to be the fifth time before sitting back on my knees so I could wait for the dizziness to go away.
Ya. Being hungover sucks balls.
"You’d do it again though,” Bria muttered the obvious.
If it makes me forget…why not?
She didn’t answer that, and I knew she wouldn’t because neither of us wanted to re-face the elephant in the room.
The lingering sadness in regards to Roberto’s death.
I’d already accepted that I wouldn’t be able to get over it. Not so quickly. That would be unrealistic.
Just staring into my reflection reminded me of him.
The various expectations I’d worked endlessly to uphold to meet his standards of acceptance…only for him to be gone.
I’d surely put a burden on him — my existence but a challenge in the eyes of those superior to him. I felt like a fool for only finding out everything at the last minute, and even now, I couldn’t fathom the idea of forgiving him for what he’d done.
No…maybe I did forgive him long ago and simply didn’t want to mentally acknowledge it.
I had no choice now.
You can’t hide from the dead.
I was sure he could see right through me now if he was given a chance to look at me. Deep within, I wondered what he’d see.
Would he still be proud of me when I’m such a mess?
That was how I felt l as I stared into my reflection. After vomiting everything out of my stomach, I already felt like shit, but the simply reminder that I no longer had a Papa was already making me shed tears.
I knew if he was here, he’d be scolding me for daring to show any sign of weakness. Telling me how a De Luca doesn’t cower to anyone, not even to the reality of another’s death. But did he ever take into consideration how I’d react if he died?
Maybe he assumed I hated him so much that I’d rejoice at the news of his passing. I guessed over the years and the treatment I experienced, it was a valid expectation to have.
It was a shame that this wasn’t my currently my reality, and even as I fought to numb away these stupid emotions and move forward, I simply couldn’t do it.
