Page 107 of In Love with the Devil

“Keep being my good girl and go to sleep.”

“Th-there’s something y-you don’t know.”I love you. I missed you. I'm so sorry. Tell me how to fix this.

“You can tell me after your nap. You really need to rest, little bird.”

Little bird… he's not happy with me. He hasn't forgiven me.“Julian, I didn’t–”

The exhaustion takes over, making my eyelids too heavy for me to open. Although I feel him pull his hand away and lay mine on the bed, I can’t move or say anything. It’s dead silent for a while, but even in my deep sleep, I know and feel when Julian leaves. Even in the exhausted deep slumber I'm in, his absence stabs my heart.

Chapter fifty

Never

Astoria

“Astoria?” I wrinkle my eyebrows and moan at the pain of having to wake up to my reality. It’s an unfamiliar voice.

“Astoria.”

“Hmm.”

“Wake up.”

The light bleeds through my closed eyelids and my eyes flash open at the realization that the voice doesn't belong to Julian. An older man is kneeling at my bedside. He looks and smells like he hasn't taken a shower in a year. His gray dirty beard hangs long. The shadows under his eyes tell me a story I know oh too well, a story of Julian's form of torture. Within seconds, I scream and pull back with such force that I fall off the bed on the other side. The pain in my thigh intensifies my screech. He climbs over thebed and I crawl away, hugging the sheet to my chest to cover my nakedness.

“Who are you? Get away from me. Get away! Get the fuck away!”

His eyes show shock and after I’ve yelled it many times, he moves back toward the door. I hold on to the bed, struggling to stand, my legs shaking. Although some of the pain has dissipated, the branding and my muscles still ache. His palms open high, signaling no intention of harm. I notice he has a neck collar too. I wrap the thin blanket around my body.

“Who are you?” I ask with an insurmountable aggression originating from out of fear.

“I-I’m your father… Astoria.”

I shake my head. “No. No. My father disappeared years ago. You’r–you’re–” I can’t deal with this. What is this? What the fuck is Julian up to now? I must be hallucinating or dreaming. I need help.

“Baby girl, it’s me.”Baby girl…Hearing him spill that nickname sends an avalanche of disgusting memories. It's whatheused to call me. I want to vomit but there's nothing in my stomach. I retch bile.

I'm trying to catch my breath when he calls me again, "Astoria."

“No! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” I scream. “And don’t move.”

I walk around the bed, almost faltering, and use the bathroom. By the time I dare to step into the room again, I’ve almost convinced myself I was hallucinating or had a nightmare. His presence terrifies me, bringing back so many disgusting memories mixed with others full of love. The nausea won't go away. Blood leaks from the cuts on my palm.

“You’re Astoria Torres. You were named after my grandmother. Your mother changed your last name from Winters to Torres after we divorced. You liked bubbles and lollipops and your three-wheel bike. You had a friend at school… Mindy.”

I shake my head and lose my breath as I cry, wince, and grind my teeth. “No. No. Shut up.”

With my palm, I try to push down all the pressure that’s building in my chest. This is not happening. This can’t be happening. As my eyes reluctantly sweep over his face one more time, I recognize him.

“No,” I whisper.

He’s a lot older, but I can see features from when he was young, when he used to be my dad. I don’t want this to be true. My hands shake. “Julian!” I scream.

He takes one step toward me, and I scream at the top of my lungs. “I said stay the fuck away from me! You sick son of a bitch! Stay the fuck away!” I keep repeating it.

“Astoria–”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? What you did to me? I wish I could kill you!” The words echo and give me a throbbing headache.

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