Page 7 of The Diávolos: Part Two
Like I said,divinity. A sign from God. Made for the Devil himself.
Each time I glance back, I relive what happened nearly an hour ago, and my crotch aches from the strain against my pants.It’s never enough.
I leave the underground parking lot and pull onto the dark street, the asphalt slick with a wetness caused by the earlier drizzle. The lampposts cast a dim glow onto the road, the moonlight shining down on the car. It’s quiet. A calmness pours over me.
I grip onto the steering wheel as I approach the red light and put the car in neutral, letting my foot push down on the gas pedal a few times, the motor revving.
There’s no better time for a joy ride.
I have so much energy coursing through my veins, I need to let it out or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Antium isn’t my city, so I don’t have any cops on payroll, but I don’t give a fuck if I get caught. Hendrick can deal with them.
The light turns green and excitement seeps through my body. There’s no traffic up ahead, no officers in sight, so I press hard on the pedal. My Jaguar surges forward—it's instantaneous, silent, and smooth. The tires tread on the worn down streets as I pass intersection after intersection, luckily not catching any red lights, and I grip onto the steering wheel tighter. I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.
This is fucking exhilarating.
I ask the system to play “The Summoning” by Sleep Token, and I turn up the volume to the highest level, which only motivates me to go faster.
There’s a red light up ahead, but I have too much momentum and the roads are too wet to briskly stop. A city bus makes its way across, and if I don’t swerve, it’ll be a collision.
I press the brakes, then take my foot off the gas pedal as I turn a right corner sharply, almost tipping over in the process. The tires screech on the pavement as I try to control the car, the rear end veering to the left.
Fuck, that was close.
My knuckles turn white as I twist my hands around the wheel.
The roads are slippery, but I’m not scared of the danger it poses to me.
I keep zooming through the streets of Anzio with no destination in mind, replaying the memories ofher.
I’ve fallen too deep. During my darkest hours, I picture Angelica’s body next to mine and then I can’t sleep, feeling so alone without her beside me.
I was the disease; she was my cure.
She was saving me, but I was killing her.
After my little thrill ride, the comedown hits me just as hard when I get back to my small, messy apartment. I’ve stoppedrunning to cope, the motivation escapes me. So, my stress and thoughts have been consuming me for months.
I’m in an unfamiliar territory, with all these foreign feelings, and it’s messing with my head.
But I refuse to leave until she comes back to me.
The next day, I wake up feeling groggy.
I step on something as I get out of bed. When I look down, I see Angelica’s pink thong from last night. I’d brought it to bed with me as a reminder of her scent.
Tension builds in my shoulders. It's not full-blown frustration but rather a simmering impatience, a wish for things to fall into alignment without Angelica’s persistent resistance.
I growl and pick it up, bunching the fabric in my hand, and walk over to the dresser. Opening the first drawer, I pull out a box and open the lid, revealing other items that I’ve taken from Angelica. Thongs, mostly.Another to add to my collection.
I can’t leave her without taking something to remind me of her when I’m alone.
A wave of anger washes over me, and I run my fingers through my hair.
It's been far too long since Angelica and I last had a meaningful conversation, and the anticipation has grown into an ache.
I find myself checking my phone repeatedly, hoping for a message or a call that never seems to come.
She’s cut me out of her circle, and for the past year has been living as though I was just a mere inconvenience in her life.
