Chapter 2
1441 Words
Elena
There are too many voices. Arguing. Yelling and begging. Mike and my dad are fighting over who should die.
My father looks at me. His eyes are deep brown abysses are surrounded by those crow's feet but don't distract me from the sorrow and guilt I see there. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I love you so much. I'm so sorry," he whispers to me.
"I love you, Daddy," I cry.
A gunshot sounds.
No!
I shoot up in bed with a scream. Opening my eyes, I take in the familiar surroundings of my bedroom and grip the sheets.
I'm home.
It was all a nightmare.
As I lay back in bed, I will my heart to calm down and stare at my starry ceiling thankful that I have something to focus on. Even though they aren't glowing right now, it's a nice distraction. I really like these glow-in-the-dark stickers. At a young age, my mom knew that a starry night would be able to calm me down.
Swiping the sweat away from my forehead, I hear clinking coming from my wrist. I take a better look at it: The charm bracelet Mike gave me for Valentine's Day.
It was all a nightmare; wasn't it?
Surely, my dad never got shot. He's probably sitting at the kitchen table right now. Declan must have brought me back home. I really don't want to face the music about the way I ran off last night. I feel as though it was more than justified, but I'm sure my dad will have something to say about it.
My head hurts way too much. It's like the dull pain that just simmers. My eyes feel as though they've been weighted with something so heavy, they ache. Every blink I take burns.
Steadying myself, I carefully swing my legs over the bed and remove the covers. The sight of the sweatpants catches my eye. This fabric on my body still belongs to the man who broke my heart and shattered my trust.
I never want to see him again. Using my other hand, I unclasp the bracelet that has lost its charm on me and drop it on my desk.
Maybe it belongs in the trash...
Slowly, I open my bedroom door, then move towards the kitchen using the wall in the hall for balance. I expect to see my father sitting at the table reading the newspaper or at least find a note telling me when he'll be home.
... I find neither. It's eerily way too still; too quiet.
It's unlike Dad to not leave a note. Maybe he's still in bed.
Anxious feet carry me to my father's door, I rack my knuckles on it a couple of times before I give up and c***k it open. Peeking my head through, I see a neatly made bed that doesn't have any trace of evidence that it's been slept in recently. The boots that he would normally wear are tucked neatly at the edge of his bed where he always lined them up on the blue area rug. I push the door open wider and go to his bathroom.
It's empty.
My heart is picking up speed as it thumps hard against my chest. Air is barely making it into my lungs.
It couldn't have been real!
No. I shake my head vehemently, forcing the thought out of my mind.
No. I refuse to believe it!
Without realizing it, I'm pulling at my hair and tears are welling up.
This can't be happening. He was just here yesterday.
I frantically run to my room and grab my phone, then dial his number. There's a ringtone within the house. I follow it and see his phone on his dresser with my face lighting up the screen.
Knees buckle; I hold my stomach. I'm going to be sick. My eyes burn and ache with every tear that drops and falls on the phone that I'm barely able to hang on to. There's a part of me that is still yearning for the possibility that someone will answer even though I see it on his dresser.
This can't be real.
"Elena!" I hear a deep muffled voice above my agony. In some state, I think it could be my dad. Maybe he forgot his house key and came to get his phone.
With rushing legs, I run to the front door, and just when I'm about to turn the knob with hope – it flies open.
It's not my father.
It's not my boyfriend.
It's my bodyguard. Ex-bodyguard
The world is cruel. My heart should still not flutter for him in its broken state. His green eyes are sad and full of regret. His mouth has dried blood crested around his lips as they droop in a frown of concern. Even though his purple shiner is painted over his swollen eyes, he's worried and gripping the frame of the entrance.
"Elena," he sighs in relief as he sees me. I remain silent as I wipe my tears away; I can't let him see me break.
A few damn tears leak in betrayal to make themselves known and Mike's features change to remorse as he steps inside to wrap me up in his stupid strong, warm arms.
With my face against his leather chest, I fold in on myself. Awful sobs that jerk my body show no shame as the dark, sad agony reveals itself to me once more. His hold on me tightens to keep me from collapsing to the tiles below.
My dad is dead. Mike used my feelings against him for his job. A job my father hired him for.
"It can't be true," I cry out against him. I feel his chin on the top of my head.
He kisses the top of my hair. "I wish it wasn't. I wish it was me. Elena, I am so sorry," his voice cracks.
He's right. It should have been him. Just like that, I'm no longer sad. It's like a switch went off and I'm no longer stricken by grief, but instead, I am instantly filled with anger.
Perhaps something I never thought I was capable of. Something darker. Something stronger.
Hate. Pure hatred.
Using all the force I have; I push him away from me. I watch as his remorse turns to hurt, he should hurt like I hurt. Not like I'll be able to hurt him anyway since our relationship was a lie. I was just his job.
My face twists with rage. "It should have been you," I hoarsely whisper under my breath while I feel tears dry against my skin.
He cranks his head a smidge as though he didn't hear me.
"I wish it was you!" I yell at him and ignore the tiny piece of what's left of my heart rip.
His face falls. "I know –"
I lift a finger at him. "No. No, you don't know. Get out!"
"Elena," he says with pleading gentleness.
I push him hard in the chest. "Get out!" I roar.
A tear. I'm sure I see a tear or two that fall from the depths of those hurt dull eyes. A small part of me cares, but I violently shove it aside. I have no place for sympathy.
As soon as he crosses the threshold, I slam the door in his face and do something I've never done to him: I lock it.
"Elena, please." I hear him beg on the other side of the door. I collapse against it, drop my head as I wrap arms around my knees, and let out more tears of pain and heartache.
My father is gone.
Mike never loved me.
I lift my head and stare down the hall.
This house is haunted with lies and betrayal. I'm all alone to replay them over and over again in my head.
The signs. I should have seen them. I should have been smarter, asked more questions and not let the men in my life push me around and believe their words so easily.
I think I hate myself more. I hate the Elena that always refused to see the bad and the ugly in people's hearts. The Elena that cared about what others thought and who was so trusting; the girl who hung on someone's every word.
With my hand, I wipe the last of my tears. From now on, things are going to be different. I'm going to be different.
***And this is chapter 2. Thoughts? If you liked it, please vote or comment so I know!
Thank you for reading <3***
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