XXVI. The Will of a Broken Savior

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Here's a little gift for you guys. It's not very often that I upload this quick (I mean quick as in less than the amount of time I take lol)

There's like less than 10 chapters left for this story just so you know ;D

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Stubborn Hearts:

XXVI.   The Will of a Broken Savior

AMANDA

I don’t know how long I have been in this room, chained to a wall with only darkness being my friend. The only sign of humanity I was contacted with was Rhea and Aunt Wendy. Both of them trying to make me eat but I couldn’t digest anything. The thought of having innocent people be killed for the fulfillment of Tony suffocated me. 

I had thought saving Helena was the reason this gang wanted me but they wanted to crush Helena to the core. Her family was the petals ripped out of her and the soon-to-be slaughter of gang was the roots keeping her standing. I suppose I was the stem to her flower; one step away from making Helena fall. I licked my dried lips as I continued to stare at the closed door. The metal brace that was tight around my neck seemed to feel heavy now than it did just a couple of days ago. I could feel my skin rub against the metal each time I swallowed almost as if my skin was tearing itself.

I whimpered at that, tears brimming in the edges of my eyes. 

I wanted to be home. 

I don’t know how many times I have thought those same words but it still broke my heart to know that I would never go back to my parents. I had once cursed at the stars for being put in this predicament but it only lasted for a short ten minutes before I curled myself deeper into a ball and sobbed. 

“All you do is cry.”

I glanced up at the person who entered the room with a lit cigarette between their lips. I hadn’t realized that I was crying until I felt the moisture gliding down my face to my lips. I didn’t bother to brush away my tears because once she leaves, I would cry even more at the dawning realization hits me once again. 

“If you were in my position, you would do the same,” I told her, my voice raspy like an old man who smoked too much packs of cigarettes.

Rhea snorted, rolling her eyes as she slid down the wall beside the closed door, plopping herself down on the floor. Her cheeks were sucked in as she took a long drag of her cigarette before releasing the wisps of smoke reflecting a reversed waterfall. “Tears are for the weak. I would never in my life be weak.”

“What person said that in making you think that way?”

From my view of Rhea, I could see the sudden change in her features. Her normal blank face that she trended hardened even more and her pink, full lips thinned and her golden blue eyes glazed over as she stared at the wall with a far away look.

“A man I came across,” she quietly said, taking another drag from her cigarette. Her gaze drifted back to me, a slight warning shown in them to not ask her who the man she was talking about.

I looked away from her and continued to gaze at the closed door. I could feel her eyes burning my skin and the smell of nicotine filling the room. I never liked having Rhea close to me.  I was afraid of her and I knew she had the capability to kill me. After all, I was an easy target for her when I’m chained to a wall and have no chance to escape.

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