Page 2 of Poison Vows

She’s not that annoying girl from years ago that cried and bled, begging me to make her a promise I never should’ve made.

Gone are the chubby cheeks and the delicate figure of childhood.

Her face is now well defined and breathtaking, with long eyelashes resting against her cheeks.

The frown on her brow doesn’t do anything to diminish her stunningly gorgeous face.

There’s now a slight worldly maturity to her that I wasn’t expecting to be so potent, so devastatingly beautiful, I forget that I need to breathe.

Clutching my chest, I try to soothe the sudden wave of agony that grips my heart.

For as long as I can remember, this girl has affected my health in the worst possible ways… and yet I could barely stay away.

Life has an unamusing way of wrapping the most potent poisons in seemingly innocent-looking packages. Angel is like that.

From the moment I met her, it was over for me. But by the time I realized just how far gone I was and how much I had indulged her, it was too late.

I knew I had to cut her off, which was the only option, but I failed.

Like the worst kind of junkie, I vehemently denied my addiction but kept going back to her over and over again, even going so far as to ignore my near-death calamity that comes with keeping her as close to me as possible.

It didn’t help that she made it easy… sticking her nose in my business, bulldozing her way into my soon-to-end life whenever she wanted, just to wrap her arms around me and press her ear against my chest.

She’s always been the punishment for my existence.

Too much of a liability.

And mine.

Then she was gone for four years, leaving me with vague glimpses from a distance.

After what felt like an eternity of doing the crap I never wanted to do, being made into the young underboss the old man wanted me to be, I finally have her back.

Feeling settled with that blessed assurance, I step closer to her bed and crouch down.

“Hi, Angel,” I whisper to her sleeping form in the silence of the dark room. “Welcome home.”

Home.

Ever since my mother disappeared, I’ve been lost… only to find something inexplicably familiar within the glowing embers of this girl’s eyes.

When she smiled, the heartbeats seized.

When she cried, my blood raged.

It’s like my every mood, thought, and action is dictated by this girl’s whims… and I don’t mind. With her, I’m alive.

Without her…

It takes everything in me not to touch her, so instead, I pat my chest again to ease the tension within, but it doesn’t go away.

With all the things I have to do, I’ve kept so many things secret.

God only knows how much being with this girl, seeing her, listening to her nonsensical musings, watching the animated expressions she makes on her beautiful face when she’s pissed, makes me feel.

Then there’s talking to her, which somehow was the easiest thing for me… when she’s asleep.

I hate talking to people, but talking to Angel? I needed it sometimes.

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