Page 13 of Vexed
“Where. Were. You?” she demanded, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and hurt.
“I... um, I had some urgent matters to attend to,” I stumbled over my words, frustrated with my inability to express myself clearly. Fuck. I could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe me.
“Urgent matters...” she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “For... what, ten years?” Her words stung, and my frustration grew. It wasn’t her fault; she couldn’t understand. But I was growing weary of trying to explain myself.
“I couldn’t be around you anymore,” I blurted out, instantly regretting the words that slipped out of my mouth. It was too late to take them back.
Her mouth fell open, and for a moment, I thought she might strike me again. But she doesn’t. I wanted to be with her, to stay by her side, but I couldn’t. Not after what I had done.
If she ever finds out that I was the reason behind her pain—well, okay, not the main reason, it was going to happen anyway—but that’s not the point. If she was to ever find out, she would never forgive me.
She shakes her head, her eyes filled with tears, and gazes off to the side, lost in her own thoughts. “Just go.”
I frown, taking a tentative step closer. I reach out, placing my hands on her trembling shoulders, feeling the warmth and the slight tremor beneath my palms.
“You called for me,” I whisper softly, my voice barely audible over the distant sounds of traffic. But she shakes my hands off, her touch leaving a chill on my skin, and takes a step back, creating a growing distance between us.
Her words strike me with the force of a sharp blade, piercing through me, “It was a mistake. Meeting you was a mistake.”
Without another word, she turns away, her footsteps becoming fainter as she walks along the sidewalk, heading towards her house. I watch her silhouette disappearing into the distance, a sinking feeling in my chest. I yearn to reach out and pull her back, to make her stay, but there was no use in doing that.
The world around me seems to hold its breath, as if mirroring the weight of the moment. The street lamps cast a soft glow, casting elongated shadows on the pavement, as if whispering secrets to one another.
She may have pushed me away, but I know deep down that she needs me, just as I need her. The bond we share cannot be easily broken.
I exhale a long breath, feeling the warmth leaving my body, as I take in the surroundings. I enjoy the silence here. Always have. No wonder she always came here by herself. It’s nice.
Before I can enjoy the peace further, a sudden vision flashes in my mind, a glimpse into the dark depths of the Underworld. The sight is accompanied by a chilling sensation, like icy tendrils creeping up my spine. The air around me seems to grow colder,as if the spirits of the departed are whispering their urgent messages.
Another soul needs to be taken to the afterlife. Jesus, can I have a fucking minute, please? I swear, they need to hire a temp so I can take a vacation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lily
I can’t fucking believe him. He disappears off the face of the earth for 10 years, without any explanation—I know that excuse is bullshit, and wants to waltz back into my life like nothing happened.
What the hell did he expect? That I was going to throw him a ‘welcome home’ party and carry on like he didn’t abandon me after I needed him the most?
I didn’t have anyone, and he knew that. But that didn’t stop him from dipping out like all our years of friendship wasnothing. Did I mean nothing? I wanna go back there and slap that ignorant smirk off his face.
One thing I am confused about is the fact that it has been so long but he hasn’t aged a bit. He looks the same. He’s… gorgeous. It’s as if the years have been kind to him, preserving his beauty while leaving mine to wither away.
As a kid, all I saw was a friend, someone who talks to me, someone who likes spending time with me. But now, I got tingles all over my skin when that bastard smiled at me. Oh my God.
He is probably twice my age and here I am thinking about how good it would feel to touch him again… or to feel him touch me. Oh, my… stop.
Shaking the filthy thoughts from my head, I head to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Mom has let me know she is going to be late tonight. Some of the women that work with her invited her out for drinks. She wanted to decline, but I urged her to go and blow off some steam. I can use a drink too. Today was just too much.
She said I shouldn’t worry about dinner for her, but I’m making more just in case she’s hungry when she gets home. I know I’m always starving after a night of drinking.
I decided on spaghetti and meatballs. It has always been my favorite. It was the first dish mom taught me to make when I was around thirteen or fourteen.
After draining the spaghetti and dumping it in a glass bowl, I head back to where the meatballs are still frying on the stove.
The amazing smell that whirls through the room has my stomach growling. Adding the marinara sauce, I fry the meatballs for another 5 minutes before turning off the plate and adding the meatballs and sauce in with the spaghetti, topping it with some basil and grated parmesan cheese.
I’ve always loved cooking. But I don’t think being a chef was ever on my list. Making food for yourself and loved ones is one thing, but cooking for a living—no thanks.
