Page 17 of Destined for the Devil
"Roman?" She ripped me out of my thoughts with her tender voice.
"Hm?" I was eager to engage but kept my eyes on the dark sky, as faraway from her as possible.
"Did it hurt getting all those tattoos?" She sounded so naïve when she asked that, and a huge smile appeared on my face before I could stop it. Of course, Isla, it was painful as fuck.
"A little," I lied. "But, at some point, your skin numbs to the sensation. Why? You want one?" Nope, a girl like Isla would never consider that.
"No.” She confirmed my thoughts. "Why do you have so many?" She probed deeper, satisfying me with her curiosity about me.
"I'm not sure, actually. Once you get one, you just want another one, and then it kind of becomes addictive." But it was mostly because the physical pain helped relieve emotional pain. My most painful tattoos were all done after my sister passed away, and I kept coming back for more self-torture.
"So you get addicted easily?" Her playful tone sent tingles through me. But how did Isla manage to turn simple conversations into thought-provoking and soul-torturing questions? I tried my best to avoid drugs throughout my life and only did it a few times because yes, I knew I could get addicted easily. And now I was addicted to her…and there was no way to break the habit.
"Depends. To what. Or to who." My whole body zinged at my own words. Maybe she would pick up on the fact that thewhowas her.
"I didn't realize it was possible to get addicted to a person." She chuckled, and her small laugh filled me up with joy. "Anyway. I should go to bed, or I'm going to fall asleep here. Thanks for teaching me how to smoke this thing." She passed me the pipe, and vicious disappointment stung my chest. I didn’t want her to leave.
Her tippy toes on the ground again, she lifted herself up off the chair while I searched my entire brain for words to make her stay.
Nothing came to me. No excuse popped up in my head to delay her.
"Good night, Roman,” she called out once she was at the door andthen disappeared inside.
Deadly silence overcame me, and I descended into a black hole of despair. Fuck. I met someone who was slowly killing me with her kindness and good intentions. Someone who I would never ever be able to forget. Someone who I was desperate to keep beside me…so I could keep breathing.
10
View From Your Knees
Isla
Miraculously,awholetendays passed since I ended up in Roman’s apartment. After the awkward online shopping experience where he insisted on picking my lingerie, things settled in, and it was all normal. I guess we kind of became friends? And I feltsomuch better. It was almost time to take out the stitches, and I was literally itching to do it.
I could finally bend my legs and sit down.
“Okay, ready?” His tattooed fingers clasped my hand, and the look in his big blue eyes gave me confidence that I could plant my butt on the chair once more. I nodded, and slowly, my knees bent as Roman lowered me, the pain dialing up every second. A little whimper left my lips, and Roman bent down to me, his eyes closed. “Don’t make that noise, Isla, I beg you.”
“Okay!” I squeaked out, breaking out in a chuckle right as my butt finally made contact with the chair. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he watched me gleefully enjoy the old forgotten sensation of sitting in a chair.
Spending time with him was so easy; he made me laugh—truly, genuinely laugh. He had a great sense of humor.
Roman was at work during the day, and since I had all the time in the world, I reinstated my driver’s license, passport, and bank cards all while looking for a job and applying to various positions. The documents partwas way trickier than I thought, but I managed to apply to everything in just over a week. Oh, and I was only able to do that because Roman gifted me a brand-new phone. This guy was obviously not concerned with moneyin the slightest.
I enjoyed spending time in his apartment, and it kind of felt like a vacation. My life was on a complete pause. I had no place to live, no job, and barely an identity in the eyes of the law. I was in limbo, untethered, just existing, living with an unknown man who I could tell liked having me around.
I was a good guest. I didn't snoop, obviously, and I cooked, which Roman seemed to really enjoy. Cooking brought me some sort of peace and a feeling of control. But also, I couldn't eat the prepared meals he had—gross.
Tomorrow, I had a job interview set up, and I was picking out what to wear when Roman suddenly showed up at home unusually early. The first thing he did was knock on my door. He stepped in with that boyish smile that I grew to really love.
"Hello—oh. Where are you going, dressed so fancy?" He joked, eyeing the clothes on my bed.
"I have a job interview tomorrow!” I gushed, thrilled that someone wanted to interview me. “So, I'm just picking out what to wear."
"A job interview?” he repeated slowly, looking a little lost. “Why do you need a job?"
I was completely taken aback by that question. What? Why did I need a job? Whodidn’tneed a job?!
"Um...because that's how adults live? What do you mean? I can't live here and mooch off of you forever,” I stated the obvious, picking up a blouse from the bed.
