Page 76 of The Loathing

They would break me. In every, single, possible way and the fact that my father was willing to give them me, for that alone, makes my stomach roll with sickness. I feel nauseated, my mouth wet suddenly, and I have to swallow the bile back down to stop myself from being sick. I walk slowly back out to my room, almost floating as I feel as if I am having an out of body experience.

Sometimes I wish my mother kept her title, my father would never have been able to work under the crown, he would have been a prince, I a princess and secure and safe because I was of royal blood.

But no.

She gave it all up for him.

The sad thing was, even when my father begged her not to abdicate, her father did. She listened to her father, her King, her hero even after everything he done to her.

I love my father, so dearly, but I also loathe him in a way I can’t even explain. Words would not do it justice to how much I dislike him.

I love him.

Adore him.

But I loathe him entirely.

Snapping away from my thoughts, I feel the burn in my throat, the sting in my eyes as I shove the remainder of my belongings in a duffel bag.

A small part of my life packed away and I have no idea how long I will have these items with me.

No idea how long I will be away from home.

Anger boils as I think back to Xander’s face. After he promised to help me, but he sided with my father. Again.

Why am I even surprised? Why am I wasting my rage on him? Where Ezekiel, I should have gone with Ezekiel. He is quiet and calculated and would have never done what Xander did. But then Xander is so far up my father’s ass, he practically cleans it. I scoff, shaking my head from side to side.

I zip up my bag then place my hands on my hips. My eyes trail over to my phone and I sigh. I have been such a crap friend… I haven’t spoken to Parker or Arabella, not even Hope and Faith. They’ve been messaging on our group chat but I’ve just read and ignored. I’ve not been in the right headspace. I haven’t even painted.

Painting.

My heart aches and I suddenly feel the tingles in my fingers. I twist my wrist to face me and look at the time. It’s only just turned nine. I have a few hours, maybe I could paint.

Just one last time.

I look at the door, sighing when my mind talks me out of it.

I can’t run the risk of running into my father or my mother, Xander or Ezekiel for that matter. I wouldn’t be able to lie to them.

I am a terrible liar.

And then my father would make sure that I was never getting out of here unless it was on the arm of The Knight Brothers. I shudder, my skin prickling in a cold sweat at the thought of what my life is going to be like.

What if Titus fails? What if my father has already outsmarted him and knows exactly what he is up to? Or even worse, what if Titus has partnered up with my father and this is all just a ploy.

I couldn’t bear the thought of being betrayed by Titus.

No, he wouldn’t.

Would he?

Anger simmers once more inside of me, the rage I have become so accustomed to, yet with Titus I feel none of that. It is as if I am a completely different person when I am with him.

I have my father’s sharp tongue, his sarcasm and his black heart at times, but I also have my mother’s caring side, her empathy and sensitivity when I need it, but I always worry that my father’s side will outweigh my mother’s.

The devil on one shoulder.

The angel on the other.

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