What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Charlie Puth ft. Elton John - After All.
~
LOVE MAKES MEN DO crazy things.
Seems like I've gotten rid of the insomnia; partly because of the girl I'm sleeping next to and also partly because I don't dream of her anymore.
Maybe I shouldn't have read her journal like Jason told me not to, but I did it anyways, and it had worsened my insomnia.
Added to the fact that I failed Taylor as a brother, my unconscious started replaying all that she went through in the hands of those criminals as nightmares for me to feast my eyes on. Those nightmares haunt me, they steal my slumber and they make me feel worthless; reminding me of how much I fucking miss her and how she'd still be breathing if I wasn't such an ignorant prick.
People connived to kill my sister, just because they wanted her shares that our papa left in my care. If they wanted money, they should have fucking asked for it; not fucking murder her. Not only did they kill her, they also abused and fucking assaulted her.
Jesus.
The woman beside me stirs in her sleep and I immediately take my eyes to her, all thoughts of revenge and coffins evaporating like water on hot coal from my mind. It's like she takes all my problems away by just being here, and that's why despite Jason's warnings, I granted the permission to publish that article stating her innocence. Tit for tat.
The two women who were majorly affected by all these incidents happening for the past five months are Alaina and Taylor.
Taylor's gone and I'll find justice for her, but Alaina is alive; she's breathing - I can feel her heart's beating against my chest - and I will not allow anything to happen to her. Ever.
We've been fucking like rhinos ever since that night; that night she practically barged into my room with the silliest excuse on the tip of her tongue, and she has never refused me. Turning off her ridiculous mental schedule has to be the best decision I've gotten her to make in weeks, and Dios, having her desperately beg me for a fuck after eleven fucking days was the reddest cherry on the cake.
The only rules she laid out for me to abide by are: don't cum inside me, don't fuck me on your bed and don't sleep beside me. Very stupid rules, I know...but I'd do anything to make her happy.
I fucking want to break rule number two though; I want memories of her everywhere, but apparently, she doesn't want that, and I think it has something to do with me supposedly fucking Ingrid on my bed that day I left her under the rain.
She probably thinks I see her as a second Ingrid; she thinks I want us to just be fuck-buddies, and while I do want us to fuck regularly, it's so much more than that. I actually like her. I like her much more than I do Ingrid. I like her much more than I've ever liked anyone ever.
