Page 58 of Love and War

Too many to count.

Too many until his phone was shut off.

I couldn’t find him anywhere. He left without a trace.

So, no. I refused to call or text him anymore. I refused to cry over him.

“I didn’t raise you to be such a little shit,” she growled, stepping closer to me.

“No, Holly, you didn’t. You didn’t raise me. No, instead you made my life a living fucking hell. You treated me like shit, still do. Only now I fight back. And you wonder why he wants nothing to do with you!” I screamed.

Suddenly her hands pressed against my chest, shoving me hard. I tried to grab onto the railing, grab onto anything. But my hands slipped, catching nothing.

I felt nothing at first, my eyes barely open as I stared at the ceiling. I could barely catch my breath, not until my air got stuck and the firing pain caused me to tense.

My hip felt like it was on fire.

My lungs barely worked as I screamed, screaming so hard that my voice croaked and I could no longer yell. Everything hurt.

My hip.

All I heard was Holly laughing before I passed out.

***

“Aziza.” Someone called out my name, but I couldn’t see. I could feel the tears falling down my face. I could feel those. I could feel the pain. Even my hip felt like it was on fire again.

“Moya Printsessa.” I knew that was Killian.

But I couldn’t breathe, I was suffocating all over again.

Reliving the most painful part of my life.

Killian was leaving me again.

Losing dance.

“Come on, moya Printsessa, breathe for me,” Killian begged.

Sharp, painful breaths filled my lungs. But nothing was helping.

Something was buzzing in my ear; a fly was somewhere in here.

“Aziza!” he snapped. His fingers gripped my chin, forcing my eyes on him. His face came into focus. His gray-blue eyes, his slightly stubbled beard, his dark brown hair, a little longer on top, shaved sides. “Breathe in.” Shakily, I did as I was told. “That’s my good girl, breathe in and out.” His voice was clearer now, his fingers still gripping my chin. “That’s my good girl,good girl,” he cooed, smiling down at me.

After what felt like hours later, Killian finally let go of my face and stepped back. I almost begged him not to move, to keep holding my face even it was weird. Biting my cheek, I refused.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I imagine you probably are.”

Searching over his face, his eyes couldn’t quite reach mine. They might have appeared like they were. Instead, he was looking at marks I’m sure I had on my face. I could feel them on my forehead and that’s what he was looking at.

Before I could ask why, he was shuffling his way out of the room. I could hear him moving around, a cabinet door opening and closing.

Then he was back, holding a small bowl with steam coming out. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was confident. But I could see the hesitation, his steps faltering as he approached the bed.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, he was careful not to touch me. My heart broke, he didn’t want to touch me. I wanted to cry. I wanted to sob, full ugly cry because why didn’t he want me anymore? Did I look that bad?

He spooned some of the soup, bringing it to my lips. I reluctantly opened my mouth, taking the spoon between my lips. I moaned at the taste of vegetable soup broth.

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