Page 80 of Downfall

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

“That’s not what you used to say Rose.” He murmurs. “You used to beg me to touch you. Beg and plead. And you’d be screaming my name when I did.”

I push him back but his body is too big to make any real effect and his mouth is on mine, crashing into mine and for the briefest of seconds I give in, allowing his tongue to delve deeper, moaning as he wraps it around mine in a way that makes my body feel alive for the first time in forever.

But then my mind comes back, reality hits me and I break it off, pushing him harder. My hand slaps hard right across his face and he blinks staring at me.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I snarl.

“You’ve got feisty.” He says grinning and rubbing his hand along his reddened jaw. “Oh Rose, we’re going to have so much fun.” He says.

I don’t reply, I just storm out of there before anything further happens or worse anyone sees us.

Ty is back by my seat looking more than a little bored.

“I’m going.” I say.

He tilts his head assessing my face and as his eyes flicker behind me they turn deadly. “What did he do?” He says.

I glance back. Stupidly I glance back. And Roman meets my gaze with a look that sets my skin on fire. Tyrone knows nothing of our past, nothing about what we were. My parents kept it to themselves. Kept my dirty little secret just that. Something shameful, something to be used against me at every opportunity and all the while ensuring it doesn’t sully the family’s great reputation.

“Nothing. I’ve just had enough for one night.” I reply.

“If he…”

“Leave it Ty, for fucksake, just leave it.” I snap. If he gets it into his head this will escalate. He’s been itching for a fight anyway and I won’t be the cause of it.

“Fine I’ll walk you out.” He states.

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is when Montagues are around, they’ll likely gut you as soon as you’re out the door.”

I don’t reply, I just let him lead me away, wondering whether that might just be the mercy I need. A quick death. A nice ending to all of this.

Rose

I’m sat in the park trying to ignore my blazing hangover. Reminding myself of all the reasons why I shouldn’t be feeling what I am. Shouldn’t be replayingthatmoment, that kiss.

I hate him. I hate him with every fibre of my being.

Bella pulls on the lead and I lean down absentmindedly stroking her as she sniffs.

He left another rose. A fresh one.

I threw yesterday’s away but this morning it’d been replaced. Today’s is bigger, like it’s some sort of statement. He’s taunting me. This is a game to him, I realise, a joke.

Perhaps he doesn’t remember, perhaps it was so inconsequential he forgot, but as I watch the children playing on the climbing frame ahead of me that thought makes me more angry. It meant that little to him. My feelings, my emotions. Even now the fact that he thinks he can simply swanny back in and pick up where he left off shows exactly the kind of man he is.

I let out a low huff. I have to be better than this. I have to be more in control. It’s not just my life at stake, and right now everything feels so precarious, like I’m balancing on a knife edge and any minute I’m going to slip.

I’ve got six months, six months before I get Paris’s money. And once that happens everything changes. I won’t have to do what my family says anymore. I won’t have to jump through their hoops. I won’t even have to see them if I don’t want to.

My eyes flicker to the playground once more. Six months – in six months I can make my move, I just have to hold out till then.

Someone sits down on the bench beside me. I barely glance over before doing a double take.

“Why are you here?” My mother asks quietly.

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