Page 170 of Volatile Obsessions

? Elastic Heart - Sia ?

Ithought I’d been low before, thought I’d experienced pain of great magnitude before.

But I’d never been this low.

This broken.

This torn.

So completely shattered to the point only slivers of me were left.

A part of me died the night Roman’s betrayal emerged from the shadows, and although the other half of me was drowning in a deep depression, begging to be saved, I had no intention of rising the stupid bitch from the dead.

After all, she’s the reason why I fell for Roman in the first place.

She wanted love, happiness, all the things I knew weren’t meant to be a part of my life.

But I listened to her anyway.

I let her cloud my better judgement, let her convince me destiny couldn’t be overruled. Let her convince me that what Roman and I had was real.

I let her kill me.

So now, she could rot in hell for all I cared.

The same went for Rome.

Thinking about him was both excruciating and infuriating, a maddening loop that went on day in and day out, even after the relentless phone calls, voicemails, and text messages stopped.

One second, I missed him with every piece of my mangled being, wishing we could rewind time and do it all right from the get-go, and the next I hated him again, wishing him an eternity in satan’s fiery playground as punishment for making a completely and utter fool out of me.

We were going on almost a month of this shit and I was losing my goddamn mind.

I couldn’t take it anymore, had to expel these soul-sucking demons somehow.

Suki and Ramsey didn’t know what to do with me either. They’d tried on more than one occasion to pull me free from the darkness, to help me move on with my life, but their attempts were feeble.

Nothing worked.

Nothing helped.

Except the thought of destruction, of raising hell on earth so everyone could suffer along with me.

Selfish, perhaps, but this agony within me, the malevolent blaze that had festered because of it, demanded mayhem.

I craved it.

The ideas presented to me were insane, deranged, and yet, the thought of bringing them to fruition promised me peace.

A semblance of sanity.

Whether that was a result of the devil’s work or not, I was willing to try anything at this point. I’d sell what remained of my soul to feel anything but this godforsaken torment.

Which is why I found myself outside of Noir Coastone night with two plastic canisters of gasoline in my trunk.

I hadn’t told a soul in fear they’d try to talk me off the ledge.

Consumed by rage, my vision had tunneled on one thing and one thing only, that fucking building. It may not have been solely his, but he’d put his name on it, had helped Vic build the company from the ground up, and that was enough for me.

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