62

62
I'd have to move far, far away.

Start a new life in France or something.

With a new identity again.

A new look.

New friends…

A new life.

And then run away again when shit over there got too tough, too.

I never had a stable life.

My whole life, I’d been on the move.

Probably why I couldn't keep a friend for more than a few fucking months, and the one time I learnt to love again, I fucked it up with my own background and past.

My own damn insecurities.

I fucking hated myself.

I didn't have time to cry.

I needed to keep on packing, and get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, before all of my friends started lurking.

Wondering why Donte wasn't turning up to work.

Wondering why I wasn’t turning up to work.

Wondering why I wasn’t in my flat anymore.

I started carrying all of the boxes to the main room.

Packing, and then carrying.

Packing, and then carrying.

Packing.

Carrying.

Packing.

Carrying.

And then, I would call a van.

And go straight to the fucking airport.



After about an hour, I was all packed. I had all of my boxes in the living room, and I was ready to go. I let out a sigh, as I felt my eyes well with tears. Because these boxes didn’t just hold my possessions. They held all of my memories, too…

“I should call the moving van,” I mumbled to myself.

I took my phone out of the pocket of my jeans, holding it out in front of my face as I began shakily tapping in the number of the company. I’d typed in about half of the phone number, but then there was a ring on my doorbell, that caused me to jolt upwards in shock because of the suddenness.

“I wonder who that could be,” I mumbled to myself.

I knew that there was no point ignoring it, because they kept on pressing down on the bell repeatedly. The easiest way to deal with this would just be to answer the damn door.

I made my way to my front door anxiously, one foot in front of the other.

And then I felt my heart leap to my throat in shock, because I was greeted by the last person I expected to fucking see.

The last person I expected to turn up here and fucking speak to me.

“Arturo?” I denied nervously, at loss for words. “W -” I trailed off my sentence, taking a deep breath in. Doing my best to compose myself together and stay calm. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” Arturo said quietly, his voice dropping to barely below a whisper. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like somebody had walked over his grave. Donte’s arrest was taking a toll on all of us…

“Of course,” I breathed, allowing him to make his way inside.

“Thank you.”

He made his way to the living room, and folded his arms, a stern expression on his face. It was impossible to read him, or predict what he was thinking. I could feel my chest heave upwards and downwards as my blood roared through my body, and I swam with nerves.

“W – What brings you here?” I stammered shakily. “I don't understand.”

“What's with all the boxes, Maya?” he sneered. “You were thinking of running away when things got tough?”

I didn’t respond. I scratched my arm uneasily, not knowing what to do or say. I’d already done more than enough damage.

“Look, Maya,” he sighed exhaustedly. “I know my family don't believe that you had good intentions with Donte. But as much as I hate myself to say this, I believe you. I’ve had time to calm down and process my thoughts. I saw with my own eyes how much you loved my brother.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but then I closed it again. My throat felt dry, and I could feel fresh tears well in my eyes. I felt so damn worthless. Even after everything that had happened, Arturo was still trying to see the good in the situation…

And I didn’t deserve his kindness.

I didn’t fucking deserve it, especially after I’d robbed him of his own damn flesh and blood.