Sinfully Imperfect

53. Her POV & His POV

Spoilers ahead: (His POV) A special surprise for y'all! *winks*

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"The flight's delay... Yeah... We'll reach by... probably tomorrow morning... Hmm okay. Yes, she is... Got it! Aright see ya!" Senior Chase cut the call after informing Senior Aylwin about our arrival at the airport. Our flight was solid eight hours delayed, meaning we were supposed to land by the night in Alaska but now would land the very next morning. What sucked more was the ice racing was scheduled for the next morning. I just hoped we would make it before time.

"Hazel Eyes?" I faced Senior Chase, who offered me a water bottle along with snack packets.

"Thank you." I took it, placing it in my luggage.

"Are you alright? You seem disturbed since the moment we arrived." His question was innocent and genuine; however, my answer was going to be a plain, white lie and faux assurance: "Yeah, I'm absolutely fine."

I wasn't fine. Fine would be the last word in my mind. The last five days were pure torture. Torture that knew no bounds. Living under the same roof with Ian was nerve-wracking. Naturally, it stirred up a lot of suspicions in my parents and Ethel, about which I smoothly lied, saying I'd caught the flu. Thus, the days spent being depressed in my room and the nights trailed by all the possible questions and happenings.

My mind drifted to the last conversation I'd had with Ian. Probably three days ago. When I was stable enough to voice out the only question I had in my mind. The question that had been gnawing at me every passing second. The question that had me traumatized with inner turmoil and compelled me to pull my hair out. 

The last two days were awful. Devastating would be an understatement. It's amazing how one moment you're enjoying and living your life to the fullest, and the very next, you find yourself tattered and broken. Like in the blink of an eye, the tables are turned, and you can do nothing but watch yourself fall and slowly die.

Same was with me. Each second was too torturous. Too heartbreaking. Gut-wrenching. The pain had no bounds. The words... those words of his kept echoing in my ears. The whole scene kept replaying in my mind. Horrific. Utterly and absolutely horrific.

The fall of night came surprisingly soon. I'd stared enough at the dark cloudy sky. The cold, colorless ambiance mirrored my mood. I sighed, ready to head back to my room and bawl my eyes out.

I stood up, rubbed my gloved hands, and fixed the scarf around my head. Just as I was about to turn, my eyes clashed with the vibrant mossy greens. I felt my blood run cold. I needed to get out of his sight. That's it. I turned away from him, increasing my pace to get the hell away from him. However, his voice stopped me.

"You know you can't escape this. Look, I'm sorry for that night. I shouldn't have..."

"You shouldn't have what? Not spoken the truth? Got yourself drunk? Hurt me? WHAT EXACTLY YOU SHOUDN'T HAVE, IAN!? WHAT THE FUCK EXACTLY!?" I burst out at the seams with rage. My veins contracting with anguish. Heart hammering, almost as if it could break away. My breath labored.

His face remained passive. Lips pulled in a thin line. A clear annoyance flickering. He was about to open his good-for-nothing mouth, when I stopped him. Raising my palm, I said, "Save it, Mr. Ian Santos. Save it for someone who actually gives a fuck about it. You know what? At this point, I don't even care what else you did, when you did it, since when you've been planning, and all those bullshits! But..." I inhaled deeply, running my hand along my cheeks in a fickle attempt to calm myself down.