❝You think we're going to live happily ever after? Newsflash: I'm not a fucking princess, you're no prince and this fucked up thing between us is not a fairy tale.❞
Ian raises one perfectly arched eyebrow, unfazed by my outburst. ❝Fairy tales can be...
Who am I kidding? This isn't a fairy tale. It's my life. —Zoe Cruz, Beastia.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The sun is just starting to rise when I get back to the place I call home.
Everything around me seems like a blur through focused lens. My movements can be called robotic. I park my car. Get out of the garage. Walk to the house. Open the door without any problem. Start my way towards my room.
I'm roughly pulled back by the shoulder.
"Where have you been?!" Father bellows in my face and I stare up at him through unblinking eyes as his grip on my shoulder feels like steel. "You did not answer any of my texts! Why?!"
"I went to a party," I say tonelessly and Father turns red in the face. His grip tightens. I try not to wince. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to make you text me and stuff. It won't happen again."
It's almost like I've splashed a bucket of ice cold water all over him. His hand drops away from my shoulder like I've scalded him and the anger on his face suddenly vanishes, quickly melting into a softer look.
Some people may call it concern. But right now, it looks more than unwelcome to me.
"Scarlett... are you okay?" he asks warily, straightening his physique and I'm forced to notice that he's wearing the suit he was wearing yesterday. Did he really stay up all night for me or was he up all night for a completely different reason?
I ignore my thoughts and shrug again. "I'm fine," I lie and even the words sound like a fib to my ears. "I'm just tired. I need to lie down."
He eyes me again for a few more seconds and then, shakes his head. "Very well," he says and suddenly, he moves aside for me to continue on my way. "Sleep tight."
I try not to feel disappointed but it's hard. I don't know why I keep thinking Father cares. It's not like he wanted to be a father. He didn't plan for me to exist. He's the guy that mistakenly knocked up my mother because of his weak pull out game, ruined her career as a successful supermodel and had to marry her because her dad was his boss. There wasn't love in their marriage. Just business. Amongst other things like fashion events, intense pretense and a kid.
I shake myself out of my thoughts. Without sparing him another glance, I quickly run up the stairs and push my way into my room, slamming the door behind me. I stalk to my bed and flop down on it almost lifelessly without kicking off my boots.
Everything is rushing into my head at break neck speed. I have feelings for a guy that isn't even attracted to me. I'm a failure. My own father doesn't care about me. I broke a nice guy's heart— the same guy that has enough ammunition to use against me.
Why does life suck so fucking much?
Before I can really think about it, I reach on my phone and speed dial the only person I can really trust to answer. She answers on the third ring. "I'm worried. It's definitely, like six over there and you're calling me. No— you're awake. Are you okay?"
