Page 70 of Destined for the Devil
I bought a ticket for a bus that was leaving in twenty minutes to San Diego. I didn't care where on earth this bus was going, only that it leave as soon as possible.
Petrified, I nervously glanced around and jumped from every moving shadow, expecting to see Roman any second. The longest twenty minutes of my life crawled by on the clock as if taunting me.
Finally, the time came, and I climbed on, grabbing an aisle seat at the back, praying to God that I didn't believe in, that Roman wouldn't magically show up on the steps of the bus.
He didn't, and the doors were about to close, but at the last minute, a man hopped on without any luggage. He looked young, wearing a black hoodie, but his demeanor and look didn't give off relaxed teenager vibes. No, he looked like he was in search of something…or someone. He scanned the entire bus as if looking for a seat, but I noticed. I noticed his eyes linger on me just a second too long. A second longer than on anyone else.
He slid into a window seat at the front of the bus, and we set off, myanxiety levels at an all-time high. I knew he was here most likely looking for me, but there was nothing I could do about it now. The bus was on its way, and if Roman was waiting for me at my destination, then I would just have to deal with it then.
Meandering through the city at a painstakingly slow pace, we finally made it out onto the freeway, the bus taking me farther and farther away fromhim.
I bawled on the journey as if I’d just buried my mother. I remembered those tears very well. The bus wasn't full, but my tears got the attention of a few nearby passengers who looked at me with concern, one of them offering me some tissues.
A mere few agonizing hours later, I disembarked in San Diego, relief flooding all of me that Roman was nowhere to be found. And the young man in the hoodie stepped off the bus and jumped into a cab, never sparing me another glance. Maybe he wasn’t there for me after all.
Without lingering, I grabbed the first cab and headed straight for the airport: I was going home, and I wasnevercoming back.
The flight to New York was only a few hours but felt like a lifetime of agony. Numb and ripped apart from the pure hell I was living through in my mind, I hated every single person on that plane. They all lived so easily, discussing their New York trip plans, not having any idea that the man I was in love with killed my parents.
And theman…was waiting for me in New York. As soon as I exited the terminal doors, my gaze locked with his.
He stood front and center in the arrivals hall, his resolve to claim me unwavering. Sporting a bandage on his nose and one on his cheek, both his eyes were bruised, giving him a most sinister appearance. And behind him were two massive bodyguards, stone-faced and alert. That was new; I'd never seen that in L.A.
Time splintered and everything slowed. It was just me and him,outside of time and space, with each other. Nothing else mattered. My chest burst with emotion. The love and care I had for him obliterated my anger for one dangerous second.
That was my boyfriend! He was here waiting for me, and I wanted to run to him and jump in his arms, kiss him tenderly, and tell him how much I’d missed him.
But then his words from last night, bloodied and stained with my parents' suffocated screams, floated to the top of my mind.
I was responsible for the death of your parents.
They didn't suffer.
We made the decision to get rid of him completely.
It's either our way or death. And your father knew that.
Fuck. Him. Never breaking eye contact, I walked right past him.
Everything between us was over.
34
Burn In Hell
Roman
Islaquiteliterallyslippedout of my hands, but not before she did some damage to my face. I deserved every bit of it, and so much more. She didn’t just escape me; she beat me up.
She kicked me in the balls—twice in one night. Then she slashed my cheek, almost scratching my eye out. And finally, she broke my fucking nose.
I wasn’t angry. Iwantedthe pain. Craved to be physically hurt by her. But I wouldn’t be able to survive the way she was shattering my heart. Isla wasn’t just my girlfriend. She was my reason for breathing. Forexisting.
Without her, I was nothing.
She was smart—leaving in the middle of the night when I was most vulnerable. But of course, I heard her tiptoe out of bed, as quiet as a mouse. I felt her every movement, every night.
The fear in her eyes made my stomach twist. She was terrified that I wouldn’t let her leave. But I never wanted to trap her. I just wanted a chance to fix it, to work through it. She couldn’t just leave; shecouldn’t!
