My grip tightens at the thought. Maybe I should wake her. Push myself up against her entrance and bite down on her perky tits. I could make her wake up screaming from pleasure or while coming on her face. She’d fight the second she’s awake, then smile right before I claim her mouth and fuck her until she comes, crying out my name as she does it.
The very idea of it sets me over the edge. There’s nothing I can do to silence my groan as I release myself into her panties.
I hunch over and pant, then hold my breath when she turns over and pulls the blanket over her shoulder. My high doesn’t last long.
On her bedside table is the reason why Bella is dead to the world: Xanax.
Why is she taking it? How long has she been taking it? What the hell happened to her that she had to start taking prescription medication?
Annoyance zips through me as I glance at the window. What if it wasn’t me who climbed through it? Putting a chair under her door handle will stop anyone from inside getting to her, but the ones on the outside are the real threat.
People like me.
My irritation flares as my lust-blind mind finally clears, and I notice more of her room. There are drawings on the walls, just like before I left.
I tuck myself back into my pants, pocket the panties, and take a closer look. They’re drawings, alright. Not mine—hers.
Where my pen strokes are harsh, her graphite lines are soft. The proportions of the faces are spot-on, and the shading is blended and smooth. It’s realistic—far better than my drawings.
I’m not sure if I should be jealous.
Okay, I am. Just a little.
Before I left, she wouldn’t draw anything but the occasional doodle. Now she’s out here sketching like she’s been doing it since birth? I’m proud, but what the fuck? Who taught her how to draw like this, because it sure as hell wasn’t me?
I pull myself away from the drawings and investigate the rest of the room. Other than the art and the supplies, nothing in this room has changed.
Oh, and the Xanax. Couldn’t forget about those. I consider throwing the pills away. Though, she could just refill. But that’s money she wouldn’t spend on food or things for herself.
Later, I think to myself.
Soon, she’ll know I’m back and coming for her. Then, I’m going to find out why she’s been ignoring me.
And if she has, she’s going to regret it.
Chapter 14
ISABELLA
The Day of the Incident
Roman: 22 years old – Isabella: 20 years old.
It’s my birthday today.
Not that anyone remembers.
It’s not like it matters anyway.
I'm three years older than when Roman left, but I feel I’ve aged at least ten years. They always said there is nothing worse than growing older, and I will live life chasing my youth, wishing for the day when I could drink as much as I want, party, and wake up without responsibilities.
I never had those four things, so I don’t long for them. Sometimes I miss the girl I was when Mickey was around. The one who was delirious and incapable, who questioned everything in the name of insecurity, but nothing that really mattered.
It’s kind of pathetic that I haven’t felt a glimmer of happiness since the day he disappeared, and there doesn’t seem to be any joy waiting for me in my future.
What’s even more pathetic is wishing he’d taken my virginity before he left so it could be forever immortalized as the day I lost everything.
“Thank you, love,” the customer, who has been eyeballing me since he walked into the store, says when I hand him the receipt. He drops his business card and smirks. “You should call me sometime.”
I give him a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks.”
He nods. When the door rings shut behind him, I drop his card in the trash without reading it. I found that one word works best. Thanks. Short, sharp, to the point. Say too much, and they think you’re leading them on. Say the wrong thing, and they might kill you.
The joys of womanhood.
Marcus is getting bolder with his advances every passing day. It’s only a matter of time until groping doesn’t cut it, then he’ll take another part of me I’ll never get back.
He’s developed even more entitlement now that I’m no longer property of the state. I live under his family’s roof without paying rent. In exchange, I work at this crappy hardware store while Marcus and Greg work in the garage next door.
I want to leave. With every fiber of my being, I want to escape this horrible family and abominable city and never turn back. The only thing holding me back is the knowledge that, if I leave, there’s no one to look after Jeremy. Millie is too busy most of the time, Greg and Marcus won’t take care of him, and the state isn’t doing jack about it, no matter how much I complain.