Page 158 of The Love of Priest

Priest let out a sigh as he ran his hand down his face. "Britain, I have bigger shit to stress about!" he argued from the other side of the door. He was giving her a chance to allow him in on her own so she could shout, gripe, or scold him in whatever manner she so pleased.

Instantly, Britain's mind focused back on the sudden passing of Jamari that was weighing down on him. It had only been a day. He was still distraught. "I'll see you tomorrow, Priest!" she reiterated, hoping he would just throw in the towel and allow her to take some time for herself and he do the same.

Priest let out a deep sigh before reaching into his pocket and extracting the key. The sound of him inserting the key into the lock made Britain instinctively arm the door with the chain. Priest turned the key, unlocking the door. Britain took a step back, knowing he would push the door open. As expected, he did. The door didn't make it too far since she had already set the chain on it.

From the slight opening the door now had, she could hear Priest let out a hollow breath of frustration and agitation. "Britain, open the door," he ordered her in a stern voice.

"I don't want to have this conversation right now," Britain told him, not budging to open the door.

"What's the change of fucking heart, Britain?! You went from wanting a response to not wanting one in a matter of a few minutes?!" Priest gritted as he continued to jerk the door. He was beginning to grow infuriated. All he wanted to do was talk. If she didn't want him to stay, he would respect that, but a conversation needed to be had, and it needed to be one where they were face-to-face and weren’t separated by a door.

"The truth, Priest!" she admitted. "That's the change of fucking heart! You telling me that you still love this woman despite what she's put you through would devastate me!" she clamored out.

Priest halted from jerking the door back and forth. With his massive hand palming the door, he leaned against it. "It's not the truth, Gioia." His rugged voice instantly softened.

"Just stop. If it weren't the truth, you would have given me a response," Britain interjected.

"Gioia, I fucked up. Alright?" A tone of defeat laced his words. "That was the wrong time to stay silent, but I did anyway. I don't know why, but I did. I'm sorry for the confusion," he apologized to her sincerely.

"Do you still love her?" Britain asked Priest, her voice low in volume and filled with sadness.

Priest sighed. "No," he denied. "What me and Paula had was never love on her part."

"Priest, you loved her, though, and you probably still do," Britain insisted.

"Gioia, you can't love someone who doesn't love you back," he told her. "I had to learn that. She didn't love me, so what I used to feel for her no longer applies. It's been years, Britain. I outgrew her, outgrew my mentality from then and outgrew my feelings."

Britain ran her fingers through her hair, stress and confusion getting the best of her. She didn't want to feel as though she was gullible. What if Priest was just telling her what she wanted to hear? She stood deep in thought for a moment. Priest was a man of his word; he wouldn't lie to her. He wasn't a liar.

"Why didn't you respond?" she uttered.

Priest defeatedly shrugged his shoulders. "Again, Gioia, I don't know. I don't love Paula. I stopped a long time ago," he stated. “She fucked me over and left me high and dry. Yes, there’s still a little part of me that thinks of the what ifs, but I know better.”

"Priest, are you fucking serious?!" Britain's aggression immediately sparked within her. “What the fuck do you mean bythe what ifs?!” Roughly she slammed the door shut, reaching up to unchain the door. Once she finished, she yanked the door open to be face to face with Priest. "How can you tell me you don't love her, but you're thinking about the what ifs in the same fucking sentence?!" she heaved, enraged as her fist threw blow after blow onto his built chest.

Priest’s massive hands clenched around Britain's wrists, restricting her from punching him anymore. Her emotions of vexation, pain, and disrespect had gotten the best of her, and she resorted to getting physical. With Britain still in his grip, Priest pushed his way into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him.

She squirmed in his grip, trying to yank her wrists from his burly hands, but her strength was no match for his. Priest never expected for the night to go sour like it had now. He also never expected Britain would be the one lashing out like this.

"How fucking dare you?!" Britain screeched. "You don't love me!" Her hysteria of anger had now meshed with sadness, causing tears to flee from her soft, feline-like orbs. Priest knew he was the reason behind her tears. This pulled at the strings of his heart. However, he needed to gain control over Britain. It seemed as though she had blacked out and was set to go on a rampage if he didn't.

In one swift movement, Priest abruptly pressed Britain against the door, securing her wrists above her head. "Stop!" he jeered down at her sternly.

Britain’s chest pumped up and down unsteadily. Her jaws were clenched as her usual light eyes that he would get lost in were overcome with darkness. Britain was feeling as though her life was one fucked up repetitive take of the filmGroundhog Day.

She healed herself.

Found a man.

Gave her all.

Fell in love.

Got played.

Just when she thought the cycle had run its final lap in her life, she was faced with the reality that the cycle was actually never ending.Priest had just begun his own cycle, not realizing that he had driven Britain to the brink of insanity.

She snapped.

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