Dalaric "Ricky" Mikael was known for two things; being the country's best assassin and being a silent brute.
His demons enveloped him in darkness and he saw no light at the end of any tunnel.
Until a girl, who's weird and wears nothing but a pair of...
Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.
Mayella's hand trembles as she walks towards the old h-her mother. My own tremble too, out of rage rather than sadness.
I get it. She's her mother. There's always going to be room, even if it's a millimeter, for forgiveness.
I get it.
I get it because of Mayella. She forgives. She has those morals. She's sweet and all that.
Yeah, I get it.
But hell, it's so hard to keep getting it.
It's so hard to stand here and not take her out of here, hold her in my arms- away from this woman. To tell her to stop forgiving. To tell her that I don't want her to forgive someone who doesn't deserve it.
My eyes stay trained on the lady who gave birth to the only love of my life. Deep down, I want to see if she tries something. If she raises her hand once more.
I want an opportunity. To knock the shi-Mayella wouldn't let me.
It sounds as bad as it is. I want a chance to get back at her. Mayella would most probably not like that if she found out. She would sleep with the penguins and throw me off the bed. Gently.
But this is not about her anymore. It used to be, when she spent hours at night crying in my arms. All the pent up neglect made her so damn fragile and incapable of understanding that she could be loved just as much as anyone else. You neglect a child, you tell them they're not worth time, love and even, life.
You don't hurt my Mayella and come out unscathed. But the woman in front of me is the exception, and I don't like that.
I only snap back once Mayella moves us towards the door. In an attempt to zone out of their conversation and concentrate on my hatred, my hands tightened into a fist- one that was calmed by Mayella's hands. She holds them and pats them gently and I let out a breath.
I can't just leave. I can't.
She absentmindedly rubs my palm and murmurs quietly, "She's going to rehab."
Why isn't she angry? God, why isn't she lashing out? I clear my throat and nod slowly, nearly missing the tears that stream continuously from her eyes.
Yeah, fuck forgiveness.
"Gimme a sec, will you?" Once she's out of the room, confused and pouting, I close the door behind me and stand in front of the woman on the hospital bed. Her eyes are wide and she looks afraid.
"I-I'm sorry." She whispers and I'm reminded of how similar her voice is to Mayella's.
"Yeah, you are. Fu-I'm only going to say this once."
"If you think that everything's alright now, that you can show up in her life this easily. You're fucking wrong. You're going to miss a lot of your daughter's life, Mrs. Morrison. You won't see her get married, none of that shit." Her eyes widen at this and she puts a hand to her chest.
"Yeah, I'm asking her to marry me. Soon. My mom raised me right, but I'm not asking permission from you. Don't need it. Are we clear?"
"Yes." I don't bother looking at her as I talk, not being able to bear the sight of it. I keep my front to the door, my eyes catching Mayella, who's napping on the damn wall. This girl.
"Good. And one last thing,"
I open the door, smiling only slightly as Mayella rubs the sleep from her eyes and scolds herself for sleeping on the wall. My girl.
