Page 77 of The Loathing

I would always let the devil win.

Because that’s how I have been raised.

I will always give into the darkness over the light.

My father was cruel, vicious. He didn’t get to where he was being a kind-hearted person. For the right people, he loved fiercely. But for the wrong, he would kill you for even looking at him in the wrong way.

My father has been through a lot, and I know that. I know deep down his trauma makes him who he is today, but it’s not an excuse to pass your daughter off because of his fuck up. That’s what makes me angry.

That it is his mistake.

Yet I am paying for it.

I will be sacrificing everything.

This is what guts me the most, does he not see how this is going to affect me?

I begin pacing again.

Up and down.

I pick my skin around my nails, nibbling occasionally. Irritation and agitation swarm me. There is nothing else for me to do but wait. Yet waiting seems impossible.

Because I have no idea what I am waiting for exactly and apprehension is plaguing me.

But I will wait.

Because that is all I can do.

* * *

TITUS

“Nate?” my voice is quiet as I slip into my room, closing the door softly. No one comes over this side of the house where my room is situated. Amora has told me that this is where Xavier used to lock Royal away and it’s hard to picture that because I can see, in his own fucked up way, how much he loves his wife.

“Hey, yeah you okay?” Nate’s voice is chipper and it fills me with confidence that he has found somewhere.

“Yeah, I’m okay are you?” I ask, not really caring at this moment as I don’t have time for ‘how do you do’s’ but I was raised better than that.

“I’m great.”

“Great,” I respond, pacing the floor and I’m worried I am going to leave tread in the carpet where I am walking the same path.

“I have found you somewhere, when do you want to get there?”

“Tonight, where is it?”

“Somewhere called…” he pauses for a moment, and I can hear his fingers tapping on his keyboard, “the new forest.”

“Sounds enchanting…” I scoff, one brow raised.

“It looks it, wild horses, secluded and nothing but quaint pubs and rolling green fields.”

“Quaint,” I stop pacing, my lips curling into a smile.

“I am just reading what it says here. Quaint.”

“Never heard that word before.”

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