Love or hate

There, in bright red lines, were the words I had often called her by. I felt like total and utter shit. I could read them clearly because her skin was so pale. It looked like she had gone over them several times with the razor blade. That was the moment I took a good look at her and saw the totality of the destruction I had caused her. That was the exact moment it became clear to me that I had screwed up.

I didn't know how I was going to fix any of it, because she was nothing like I called her. I know for a fact that I was her only fucking taint everything we did together because of my hatred.

I didn't even know if I would be able to earn her trust now, not after everything I've done. But at the time, I swore to myself that I would make him forgive me somehow, and that I would do everything I could to heal all the wounds he had because of me. From the looks of it, they are deep wounds.

If none of that works, I will remind him who the fuck he belongs to and that there is nothing I can do to change it.

After seeing his cuts, I knew he felt nothing but humiliation. He probably thinks I won. I know he thinks he thinks he showed me his weakness because I saw it, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. I know she's the strongest person I've ever met, and if I wanted to keep her that way, I had to step up my game and protect her.

I come back to the moment and get out of my head. I settle her head into the seat before getting out of the car and approaching her side. I open the passenger door and unbuckle her before lifting her in my arms and getting in with her. She's sound asleep and doesn't say a peep.

After the last few hours, well, weeks, she needs as much rest as she can get. I go upstairs with her and head to her room. I wrap her in the blanket, walk around to the other side and get into bed with her.

I don't want to leave her alone now. I just want to be close to her. I snuggle her against me, back against my chest, and wrap my arm around her. I lie there for a long time, watching her sleep.

I have many thoughts and feelings in my head, but the one that overrides all others is how she feels in my arms, like she belongs here. I'm going to make sure she somehow sees it too.

When I finally leave her and head to my room, I see the destruction she has caused and shake my head at her determination. I look at the mess she has made. When I walk into my bathroom, I see my mother's journals and some of her albums in the water.

Fuck!

I rush to get them out. They are already damaged. Maybe I can save the photos, but her diary is toast. The pain that comes over me is nothing new.

I know Lia is the one who destroyed my shit and I want revenge. But first I promised myself I wouldn't hurt her anymore. I finally confessed to myself that I have feelings for her.

I call one of the maids to clean up and fix everything and wait for them to finish before I go back to her room, pick her up in my arms and carry her to mine.

I lie next to her for a while longer and let out a sigh at having lost some of my mother's things. It hurts, but at this point it is what it is. I won't do anything to hurt Lia anymore ....

LIA

There is a masculine scent in the air, almost like a sea breeze that fills my senses when I open my eyes. The room is dark. Once my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I realize I'm not in my room. I must be in Rayan's.

I don't feel his presence beside me and I am thankful for that. I don't think I can bear to see him again so soon. Not after last night and not after he saw how I disfigured my body. I am too ashamed to face him. I'm too raw for baring my soul to him like that. Seeing him now will make me feel more out of control than I am. Then again, I haven't been in control since I stepped foot in this city.

I don't remember falling asleep on the trip from the hospital and now I'm here, in his bed. I've wanted to see his domain since I moved here, but I knew he probably would have killed me if I had come in.

My mind thinks of my mother and I wonder where she is, since she hasn't burst through the door yet. I'm thankful for that, because she would chew me out for being irresponsible and ruining my life because of the drug addiction I've acquired.

Speaking of which, I'm dying for a fix right now. I don't feel normal anymore without it. She has no idea what I'm going through because her life has been perfect since we came to Riverside, while mine has done nothing but go downhill.

I know she loves me, but I don't feel like I can talk to her about everything that has happened in my life. I'm afraid she won't understand or even tell me it's nothing. Parents don't really consider heartbreak to be something detrimental to your mental health. I wish it was that, but it's so much more than that.

I let out a sigh before getting out of bed and walking towards my room. I walk in and head straight to my bathroom. I know what I'm going to do and my mind tells me it's wrong, but I can't help it.

I need the drug because it has become my addiction.

I grab the Percocet I bought from their stash and take two at a time. I need them to function, otherwise I will be more of a mess than I am now. I feel my body start to shake from not having taken anything. I need the chills to go away.

It's a never ending fight inside my head that my body loses every time. I'm tired of fighting myself trying to do the right thing when I want something else.

As soon as they enter my body, I notice how they work. I know it doesn't work that way, but for me, it feels like it does. Instantly I feel so much better and it's the feeling I've come to crave.

I go back to my room and sit down on the floor. I pull out one of my blank canvases. I need to do something besides think about all the things I can't control. Tonight, I decide to paint instead of draw, which is something I haven't done in a long time. Having a blank canvas in front of me always calms me down and that's just what I need.

I start and, before I know it, I'm hyper-concentrated, moving my hands. Sometimes I'm so focused that I don't even come up for air. The need to finish what I've started at once is just too much.

When I finally finish and look at what I have created, I see that I have painted Rayan again. At this point, I'm beginning to think it's another one of my obsessions. I paint or draw him as often as I take drugs. If that's not obsession, or rather addiction, then I don't know what is.

The painting is one of him looking at me with one of his trademark stares, the one that is always filled with hatred every time he looks at me. I've seen it so many times that I've managed to capture it and bring it to life. As I stare at him, I notice how the hate jumps off the canvas.

A minute later, I paint it all red and add something else. When I'm finally done, I stop and stare at the painting in front of me. I stare at it for a while longer and realize that I have created an ambiguous image of him.

The obvious version is him in all his furious splendor, but when you tilt it sideways, it's one where he looks like a monster and, well, he certainly fits the man I know. I get up and take the canvas to my closet to dry. I don't want him to come into my room and see it, as he always comes uninvited.