Page 46 of The Filth Kings II

Chapter22

Rylie Rose

Istood in front of the mirror, breathing heavy. My pupils were dilated and my hair was a tangled mess. The light above shed light of the smeared and jagged lines of makeup along with my bloodshot eyes. My reflection looked haunted, I didn’t look soft and sweet, not even desirable. I was ruined because Octavio hadn’t reached out, no calls to even ask if I was okay.

I slapped the marble sink with both palms. I gripped the edge until my knuckles turned pale. I tried my hardest to refrain from smashing my head into the mirror until it shattered. My mind was reeling somewhere between the nights of me parked outside his house, between the extra key I secretly had made. His shirts that I stole, and the small cameras that I didn’t end up setting up in his home. I lost my grip on being reasonable with Octavio. I wanted to be normal, but every time I tried, shit didn’t go how the fuck I wanted it to.

“YOU WENT TOO FUCKING FAR!!!” I yelled at myself in the mirror.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…” I whispered; my voice trembled.

“I just love him so fucking much, how the fuck am I supposed to get him to see it?” My eyes twitched.

My mascara ran down my cheeks in black rivers. I grabbed my forearm and started to dig until I felt pain. The pain indicated that my current situation was now my reality.Why can’t I just have him? I just want to feel close to him, why the fuck is that so wrong? Your messing shit up!Ry Ry talked lowly in my head. I knew I fucked up, and maybe it was me not taking my medication. I hadn’t heard her voice in a while. I knew she wasn’t real, my doctor told me whenever I heard her voice, I should be prompted to take my medication.

I didn’t want to take it and then sleep all day. Perhaps sleep was something that I needed. The time I spent with Octavio was so good to me…he was the closest thing to normalcy for me. I dropped my head and grabbed my chest, that’s where I felt it. I could feel the unbearable obsession and ache of him, it felt alive. I was the perfect woman for Octavio. I learned him, everything about him without him having to tell me.

What he ate, how he folded his shirts, his sleeping pattern and how he had nightmares. I loved him in ways even he didn’t understand about himself. And still, he pushed me the fuck away. Why push something so authentic away? I was here to protect and feed his soul with love.

“I’m going to have to make him see more!” I stated a little too loud.

I dropped my head and shook it hard at myself. I can’t think or feed myself the violent way of doing things. It’s not right, it’s not how I’m supposed to act. It’ll just make things worse. I redecorated his house a little too soon, that freaked him out. I got too excited; days passed by with him talking to me and treating me like I always dreamed of being treated. The sex was the best I’ve ever had like I imagined it to be with him and I thought to do something special by redecorating.

The look on his face when he got home that day haunted me. I disappointed and scared him all in one. All he could think to say was to ‘get out’. There has to be a better way. A way that doesn’t make him flinch when our eyes meet to indicate that I’m not overdoing this. If I want him to love me, I have to become the dream…His dream.

“Maybe I should wait…just a little…let him miss the sex and my presence…I need subtlety…more devotion, less obsession. Make him chase me,” I murmured to myself, getting frustrated with what I said.

I didn’t want to wait for him to chase me, I was an unforgettable person with my beauty and confidence alone! I smiled at my reflection and cringed at the way it stretched my face. It looked wide and terrifying.

“But he should have seen the way that I look at him.” I mumbled to myself again.

“No other bitch looks at him the way that I do…nobody adores him like me. He should feel this shit…I’d die just to protect him! Why run from this?” I bit into my bottom lip until I tasted blood.

I forced myself to back up, only to stumble back close to the mirror again. My reflection looked like a deranged, desperate monster. I usually took pride in how the hell I looked. I had been in the house for days now, I didn’t know where the hell Syren was at. She would have forced me to eat and take my medication. It felt like I had no will to do anything.

I hated the red eyes, my smeared bloody lips, and my hair…I hated to neglect it because I took pride in it being real. I stared at myself for a very long time, never taking my eyes off the different phases that I went through in front of the mirror. I felt shameful that I couldn’t control it all, but I accepted me for me. It’s not my fault that people have a hard time seeing the beauty in me. It’s also not my fault that Octavio called himself stressing me the fuck out.

“Love…” I thought back to what all my mom told me about love and how she felt that love between her and my father.

“Love is…memorizing; the rhythm of his walk, the cadence of his voice like when he says thank you to complete strangers. Love is knowing what makes him sad, even if he’ll never say it out loud. Love is sacrifice, peeling off pieces of yourself and laying them at his feet. Smiling, even when it hurts. Love is watching him touch another woman then forgiving him before he even knows he’s made a mistake?—”

“Fuck that! I’ll kill him and her, if he plays with me like dad played with mom!” I yelled; my voice echoed off the bathroom slick walls. I tilted my head, my eyes glossed over with fire and devotion as my throat tightened.

“Love is protecting him even from himself. From his own bad choices and from people who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as him…like that bitch Yani! Gutter rat!” I snapped at my reflection like it was her staring back at me.

“Even if he hates me for protecting him from the wrong kind of people, I will! Dammit, Octavio.” I sighed.

“I love you more than any sane woman could…” I whispered.

I imagined him standing in front of me, really taking in each word I spoke.

“If you can’t feel all of what I’m saying yet, then you don’t know what the fuck love is! I’m going insane because of you! I am the definition, of devotion! Of loyalty and worship! I am what they should write about in all of those Authoress Masterpiece books!” My fists slammed against the edge of the sink.

I gasped and winced out in pain. I took one quick look at my bruised knuckles and sighed harshly.

“One day…you’ll understand this love…this so-called sickness that you speak of me having…you’ll see that it’s the fucking truth…you will see that I’d never lie.” I took my index finger and wiped at my bottom lip.

I used the blood on my fingertip to draw two small hearts on the mirror smeared with my blood. I’m the definition, he knew it like I did…it’s why he didn’t put me out right away. He put me out because he was ashamed to admit to it in front of his brothers. It hurt my feelings that he wanted to conceal me. I refused to be hidden just because he wasn’t comfortable with himself.

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