Page 18 of The Diávolos: Part One
I sigh, knowing all too well I won’t be able to sleep. Thankfully, there is a gym in Saintville for times like these. As I walk out of the elevator on the main floor, I catch a glimpse out the entrance doors.
Fuck it. I’m going outside.
I head toward the main entrance where Seb and Greg are stationed. They are my eyes and ears, night and day, except when I run. They explicitly know to leave me alone during that time. Running is the only quiet time I welcome. It’s my therapy, and it transcends from my body to my mind and through my soul. It reminds me that even in my weakest moments, I am strong. I exit into the fresh spring air, hoping to shed all the weight from these past few weeks. The brisk wind slaps me in the face as I run full speed down the sidewalk. I take my usual route through Schuylkill Banks. Something about being close to the water clears my head.
I started running when I was a kid, shortly after my family passed away. At first, it was because I didn’t know how else to express what I was feeling. Most of the time, it was an attempt to get away from home because I couldn’t bear to live in the same house where my parents and sister had been murdered. The memories of that dreadful day kept flashing through my mind every time I entered that room. I would stare blankly at the clean spot on the floor where my parents' and sister's blood had seeped from their lifeless bodies into the floorboards. You would never be able to tell the room had been the scene of such a horrific mass murder.
I avoided that room like the plague, but the memories still haunted my mind. I couldn’t escape it. I thought running away from home would solve my problems, but no matter how far I got, the images were still there.
So, I started running, not to get away, but to stay alive. It’s hard to feel miserable when you’re on the move. Instead of using drugs and alcohol as a coping mechanism, I let my natural endorphins keep my emotions in check.But that doesn’t stop me from going on a binge every once in a while.
I jog half the trail and back, eighteen miles, and I feel like I could still run a fucking marathon. As soon as I get back to my penthouse, I decide to cook a big breakfast, to keep my mind from wandering too much. I can’t be idle for too long without drowning in my own thoughts. Two egg whites with chicken sausage, and a side of oatmeal with bananas and honey. I don’t necessarily like eating clean, but I know my way around the kitchen, so my healthy meals aren’t so bad. But right now, I wish I could devour a huge plate of pancakes drenched in syrup.If you thought only women ate their feelings, you were wrong.
An hour later, I hop in the shower and stand motionless for several minutes under the scalding water. My mind has calmed from the effects of my nightmare, but something even worse happens.
I start thinking about Angelica and my dick springs to life.Why am I thinking of her in my most vulnerable moment?
I’m a lost cause at this point. Apparently, the first time wasn’t enough to get her out of my system. I need to focus on my plan to get back at her family and be the new Godfather. I have no time to lust over a random girl, especially if she's the object of my revenge.
I want to throw a fist into the tile. But I opt to fist my cock instead.
“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.” - James Baldwin
It’s Tuesday morning. I snooze my alarm too many times to count.
I groggily reach for my phone and turn off the godforsaken ringing. 8:55 a.m. I groan.Great. I’m going to miss yoga class.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, rubbing my eyes to get rid of the tiredness. My left hand reaches across the bed for the remote and I press the button that opens my bedroom curtains.Such luxury.
I snort at the thought and sit up in my king size bed. Everything in this house is too big, including this bed. It’s lush and comfortable. And lonely. I’m getting tired of sleeping alone.
I grab my phone once again to check for any missed calls or messages. I see several texts from Aria.
8:01 a.m.: Kaliméra Giegie!!! It’s almost yoga time. Do you need me to pick you up?
8:11 a.m.: Are you still sleeping? Class is in less than an hour!
8:15 a.m.: Hello???
8:37 a.m.: Angelica, you better show up to this class!!!
8:59 a.m.: You better have a good reason for flopping *angry face*
Ah, shit.The last text comes in just as I’m reading the other ones. I’m not going to hear the end of this, even though it was unintentional. Aria hates when I flake on plans. I click on the text box.
9:00 a.m.: I’M SORRY!!! Don’t kill me. I overslept.
9:01 a.m.: Too late. You’re already dead to me.
9:02 a.m.: Meet me at BB’s after class. I’ll buy you a cinnamon roll. Come on.
9:02 a.m.: Make it two and I might consider it.
I laugh. It feels good to see my best friend regularly again. After all, she’s one of the only positives of being back in Cebrene. Aria is a prickly pear, tough and thorny on the outside but soft and sweet on the inside. I’ll never not give her what she wants. I put my phone down on the nightstand and slowly ease myself off the bed, squinting at the bright, shining sun peaking through the large floor-to-ceiling windows.
I notice some movement outside, so I squint to get a better look. My heart pounds against the wall of my chest. What if it’shim? Approaching the glass with caution, I tuck my body behind the drawn curtains and inspect the area. My bedroom window doesn’t face the street, but I have an indirect view of it at a certain angle. There’s nothing and no one in sight, but I could swear I saw a shadow move among the trees below. I’ve felthispresence before but have never caught him in the act. The thought of catching a glimpse of someone ‘real’ creates an awareness that tingles along my skin.
I walk to the bathroom and stop in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. I take one quick look at my disheveled, almost black curly hair and sigh. Today is going to be unfulfilling, as usual. With no school, no work, and barely any distractions, my life seems pointless.
