Page 50 of The Diávolos: Part Two
I slam my phone down on my bed and keep frantically searching the room, lifting lamps, opening drawers, looking in every corner. Did he watch me have a mental breakdown in my own bedroom? I’m going to kill him.
The phone buzzes again.
Evan: This is funnier than I expected it to be.
Me: Fuck you!
Evan: It doesn’t even matter now. You’ll be staying at my place tomorrow.
Me: Over my dead body. I’m not living with you until we get married.
If he thinks I’m going to “role-play” with him now, he’s gravely mistaken. Evander has the power to infuriate me to no end.
Evan: We’ll see about that.
I growl in frustration as I throw my phone back on the mattress.
But it’s inevitable.
I’ll be playing house with the devil.
The next day, we embark on our two-hour drive back to Cebrene, aka my personal hell.
The sound of the word brings acid to my throat and ears. Cebrene. The City of BrotherlyBullshit, not Love.
Even after a year, nothing in my mind has changed. Not even a good night's sleep made me feel any better about going back. I still hate the place. And after the disastrous conversation I had with mybabayesterday, the thought of venturing into his territory makes me cringe.
In spite of that, this is my one ticket to getting all the answers I so desperately want. My mother was dear to me, and I watched her life crumble before my eyes. I might’ve been young at the time, but the effects are still present.
As I sit in the passenger seat, I let the gentle hum of the engine ground me. Evan’s hands are gripping the steering wheel. He’s silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon. I wanted to avoid being alone with him too much, and here I am, in the car with him for the second day in a row.
I get lost in reverie, my thoughts flowing in and out like the changing scenery.
There's this odd sensation in my stomach, a fluttering, making me slightly queasy.
I still struggle with the mental anguish of what happened to my mother. What’s her story? I have to find out, even if it kills me.
All I know so far is that her death couldn’t have been an accident; I’m convinced that it was a lot more sinister. But didMamago to the Sisterhood of her own will? Did she know what was happening to other girls?
Those questions loom over me like a storm-filled cloud.
“Why were you crying last night?” Evan asks, cracking the quiet.
I throw him a displeased glance. “So youdidsee me have a mental breakdown.”
“I might’ve. Though, I couldn’t hear your conversation on the phone.”
“Good. You spared yourself from a train wreck. I had just spoken to mybabaand asked him about my mother. You can guess how well that went.”
“What did he say?” Evander asks, his lips in a thin line.
“Nothing, as usual.”
“Couldn’t have been nothing if you reacted that way, my angel,” he responds softly.
I heave a sigh. “He said some pretty…hurtful things.”
Evan’s jaw sets, his muscles visibly clenching. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
