CHAPTER395
I quietly walk into my family home late in the evening, sliding in unseen and head for the stairs in the hopes of getting to my room before anyone knows I’m back. I’m exhausted, mentally, and physically, and just need to go lie down and get my head together. I’m a mess, fragile, completely drained and generally just spent. I came away with so much in my head that I think my mind has shut down and gone into reboot mode in a bid to protect me from having a mental breakdown.
I wept in Emma’s arms for what seemed like an eternity, before we moved to the cozy snug by the playroom, for more privacy. We talked for hours just going around and around in circles. Emma really did hit a home run with accuracy. The more we talked it out and I came to terms with it, the more I could see she was right. This was always about him!
I’ve been living like a crazy heartbroken maniac for months. Flitting from meaningless man to man, unbroken over being cheated on, badly treated, or used, because my heart is already fully invested elsewhere and the pain it’s causing is drowning everything else out. I’ve been grasping for love wherever I can find it, in a bid to rid myself of the torment of him inside my soul. I just feel so stupid, so blind and confused.
I’m only halfway up the stairs when the worried voice of my mom calling to me floats up behind me, halting me in my tracks. That sense of sinking dread hits me because I’m so not ready for another heart-to-heart. I exhale heavily, body stopping in a slump.
“Sophie?” She calls again and I stand stone still, unable to turn around and let her see the swollen emotional mess my face is in after hours of crying into Emma’s lap. She will only question me endlessly and get more hurt with my inability to tell her what’s wrong with me. I can’t bear to even talk about it anymore, until I get my head around this mess that used to be my life.
I am so fucked.
“I’m tired, Momma, I’m going to bed early.” I revert into my youthful term for her, aware that a part of me is fragile and childlike once more. I know I owe her something more, to talk to her and explain, but all this is so fresh and painful that I don’t even know where to start. She sighs heavily, still hovering by the base of the stair, despite staying silent. “I’ll come down early for breakfast with you. We can talk then if you like. I just need a little time to sleep off the trip here and all the stuff Emma made me talk about, Mom.” My voice is breaking once more, a new fresh wave of tears building up inside, and I curse myself for this inability to stop. Curse the human heart for being so pitifully weak and cruel.
“Oh? You went and talked to Emma? That makes me so happy, I mean, that you’re talking about things. Not clamming up and you know … running off. I would like that so much, my darling.” My mom’s soft voice, absolutely loaded with devotion, ruins me. The guilt I have been carrying for so long just seems a hundred times heavier with opening my eyes to what my problem has been all along. She didn’t deserve this, none of them did, and all I was doing was punishing everyone who loves me for my inability to recognize I was in love with Arry. The overwhelming wave of wracking pain washes over and the sobs hit me again hard, unable to reel them in while feeling this messed up.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I blurt it out as tears stream down my face. “I’m sorry for everything. I love you; I do … I’m just … Sorry!” I wail through the last part of my sentence and run for my bedroom before she can follow. I know she’ll be crying too because of me, and it just pushes me further into this hysterical, nose running mess of self-pity.
I get to my room and close the door fast behind me, locking it so no one can invade my space. Slumping down against the wood in a heap so that I can offload another bought of pointless crying; until my tear ducts shrivel and dehydrate and mercilessly make it ever possible again. For the rest of my life.
I’m pretty sure that would be a good thing.
The blinding sunlight hitting my face is followed by a harsh, stinging like hell, smack on my ass as I lay face down sleeping in bed. I lurch, shocked awake by the brutality of it and yelp like a wounded puppy. I blink blearily at the assault and the not so sweet tones of one irate, and very fucking loud, sister.
“Get up, right now!” Leila’s marching around my bedroom like a moronic commander and chief on a rampage, dragging open the drapes to epic sunshine levels and obviously in a hostile mood, not that it’s new for her. I groan, leaning up to catch a glimpse of the alarm on my night table and moan harder at the crazily early hour. I’ve become a night owl living in the city, sleeping by day to get over sessions of partying, and this is almost torture.
“I’m sleeping!” I mumble as another harsh slap catches my backside, burning with vengeance this time as my sheets are yanked back and the palm hits scantily clad flesh that is only being shielded by lace panties. I scream at the impact that I know will leave a mark this time and turn harshly to glare at one dickhead that thinks she has a right to sodding hit me.
“Leila! What the fuck?” I jump up, turning rapidly to sit in bed, rubbing my ass, and face that fiery demon throwing daggers my way. I know her scathing ‘I will fuck you up’ look and take all of about thirty seconds to calm my jets, knowing Leila could easily take me in a punch-up. She is crazy as shit.
“Don’t what the fuck me, young lady! I have no qualms about dumping a bottle of dish soap in that mouth. I have been trying for months to pin you down and see you, and you have been evading my calls and visits like the plague. Then I find out you’re here and you didn’t even fucking tell me. I have every right to be pissed as hell with you, so don’t even think about giving me any Sophie attitude right now.” Leila is in fierce mode, riling my own temper as we glare coldly at one another. That fiery standoff between two equally matched souls; well, she’s about a thousand times scarier than I could ever be, and like ten years older.
“Ugh! See! This is why I don’t fucking talk to you. You’re bat shit crazy like ninety-nine percent of the time, and your idea of dealing with me is to act psychotic or just yell.” I spit out accusingly, but Leila only glares harder, that tiny crazy twitch of her left eyebrow that signals she is like sixty-two percent of the way to complete psychotic break, and maybe I should reel it back a little if I want to live to see tomorrow.
“I’m your big fucking sister. It’s my job to be hard on you when you’re ruining your stupid life.” Leila sobs sharply, a sudden noise as she breaks a little, only to replace it with new fury as she ups to like seventy percent in a sudden jump. “I fucking love you, and it kills me that I am the last person in the world you talk to.” She stalks forward, grabbing me by the naked ankle and hauls me off the bed ungracefully, so I fall into a heap on the floor with a massive yelp and huge thud that reverberates through my entire body. “Now get your ass up, as Mom is downstairs waiting for you, and we three are having a womanly chat!” Leila stalks off to my wardrobe and begins throwing sweats and a T-shirt in my direction. I’m trying so hard to keep my temper while untangling myself stiffly from bed sheets and nursing my various new bruises.
“You know, becoming a mother made you a hostile bitch!” I crawl to my feet, using the bed as leverage and come to face her as she stalks back, holding an array of mismatched clothing.
“I was always a hostile bitch, you just never used to piss me off so much.” Leila smirks my way, the anger softening, and I eye roll at her. This is nothing new between us; all fire, and rage and yelling, while underneath, nothing but sisterly love at its core. Leila is still a crazy hoe, even if I do love her, and right now I do not love the fact she has just pretty much abused me, because she is pissed."
