Page 12 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

My delectable creature smiles again, her plump lips widening, and happiness mixed with sadness radiates from her, almost calling my name and tempting me to touch it, becoming part of it, and this way claim her as mine.

My body is rock-hard just at the idea of putting my hands on her perfection, needing to possess her like I need air to breathe, and for a second, I still at the onslaught of emotions I’ve never known before.

She glances toward the gate one last time and then sits inside the car, hiding from me but not for long.

Because there isn’t a place in this town where she can ever hide from me.

Snatching the phone from my back pocket, I dial a number, and the man on the other end of the line picks it up on the second ring. “Remi! I wondered where you are. We’re ready for takeoff,” my pilot says cheerfully, probably already anticipating our upcoming trip to New York that lately has become more frequent.

Any lie has to be executed to perfection to be believable, and what man obsesses over a woman without wanting to check on her?

Although I never knew a real obsession until my eyes truly landed on her; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to survive one day without being with her.

“Change of plans.”

Why would I go to New York now?

After all, Amalia is here.

Chapter Three

“Maybe madness wouldn’t have gotten such a reputation…

if it weren’t for the evilness always lurking on the edges of it.”

Remi

From Amalia’s Diary…

The wind slips inside from the open window, billowing the yellow curtains that graze my skin. The cold air doesn’t deter me from putting my thoughts on paper.

A paper that lately has become my only escape, where no judgment or pretense exists, and only deep pain remains, digging deeper and deeper into my heart.

I wonder how much hurt it can withstand before it gives up and stops beating inside my chest, leaving only a hollow shell behind?

Tears streaming down my cheeks drop on the paper, mingling with the blood dripping from my fingertips from where I scratched them so hard today I have no nails left.

He who became my greatest nightmare, he who comes at night and shows me how truly evil this world is… because no matter how much I pray or beg for divine intervention, my suffering doesn’t end.

Instead, it sucks the life out of me, a walking and breathing skeleton that goes through the motions, dreading to see another day.

They say parents are the people who are supposed to love you the most.

My existence proves otherwise, because the woman who calls herself my mother has brought me nothing but hurt.

Calling her by her given name, Beatrice, somehow soothes the raging inferno inside me, demanding justice for the wrongs done to me because of her greedy nature that allows anything to go on under her roof as long as it ensures her luxury.

Like marrying a man who is more interested in his stepdaughter than a wife.

She married Jonathan two years ago, met him on a cruise, and came back home with her eyes shining brightly, which made me exhale in relief.

Because her bad moods meant bruises and pain for me and sometimes starvation.

She announced her upcoming marriage and our move back to the States where he would give us all the riches possible, as he was so enamored with Beatrice.

Two years.

Twenty-four months.

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