When Perfect Meets Crazy

Chapter 43: 42 - I was a bull. He was red.

It had been five days and still no sign of Masked Idiot. Tomorrow was his deadline. The day I’d cut him

off and he was still a no show. The thought turned my stomach.

After the third day, I gave in and hit him up on Instagram. He didn’t reply.

Last night, I hit my lowest and asked Tammy of his whereabouts like a proper unsympathetic sociopath,

asking about her ex just days after the breakup.

It was a wasted effort at the end. She had no news on him.

I heaved a sigh and threw the novel I had been reading -mostly failing at- onto my bed in frustration. I

had been on the same page for almost an hour. Gaming wasn’t even an option seeing as I couldn’t

bring myself to concentrate on anything. I would get my ass handed to me and lose points, and since I

planned on selling the account soon, I couldn’t afford that.

It was a miracle I had managed to keep my distress from those around me. Actually, it wasn’t. Nobody

was paying attention. Keeping it from them was easy.

Growling quietly, I decided to take a shower to cool off.

I was really going to kill him if he wasn’t already dead. My stomach couldn’t take any more knots of

worry. It felt like I was walking around with a boulder on my chest. Like I couldn’t get in enough air,

couldn’t breathe deeply enough. How he ever managed living like this, with a constant worry at the

back of his mind, was beyond me. I couldn’t stand it. I hated it. I had brought it on myself and that made

me hate it even more. It was all me. Me and my wilful caretaker tendencies. He was a grown man, he

didn’t need me worrying about him but of course, it was my nature and I couldn’t help it. Now I was

paying for it.

“I swear this is all my fault.” I growled, slipping on pajama shorts and a tank top with my hair wrapped in

an old cotton t-shirt.

“I should’ve called my dad on him when I had the chance,” I mutteerd under my breath.

Roughly pulling open the door to my room, I continued viciously, “Or thrown him out the day he showed

up beaten and half dead.”

I flicked on the lights, bathing the room with a golden glow.

“I should never have eve--”

I jumped back reflexively, eyes widening in shock as I took in the figure reclining on my bed.

My eyes narrowed to slits.

“You.” I bared my teeth, enmity radiating from my pores as I took calculated predatory steps towards

the boy on my bed.

Sensing evil intent, he rose to his feet and for a split second, his eyes drifted to the window he had

crawled in through. I could tell he was contemplating running away.

“Don’t.” I hissed, taking another predatory step forward. “Even think about it.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“Hi.” His voice was infused with a forced cheerfulness that was out of place given the current mood.

“You are going to die.” I said it with a quiet deadliness that made it clear I wasn’t joking in the least. “But

first, you’ll explain.”

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Do you have any idea,” I snarled, eyes glowing with anger, “what you put me through? Do you?”

He took a step back, putting his hands up to ward me off.

“Nothing can save you.” I chuckled darkly. “I was so worried. I thought you got caught. That you were

dead. Or worse. You’ll pay for that.”

I stopped a step away from him, well within swinging distance for a punch.

“Sorry,” he ventured.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it.” I snarled.

I was a bull. He was red.

“I really am. I didn’t think yo--”

“You didn’t think!” I snapped, cutting him off. It was accompanied by a blow he didn’t see coming.

He doubled over, clutching his abdomen.

“No matter what you think,” I thumped his head that was at level with my stomach, “your brain isn’t

decoration.”

“If you will just hang on.” He wheezed, straightening up.

“Hang on?” I hissed. “I’ve been hanging on. Barely! For the past five days. You don’t get to say that to

me.”

To drive home my point, I followed it with a sharp kick to his side. He winced, eyes sparking with

annoyance.

“Will you stop hitting me?!”

“No!” I answered, giving in to the urge to pound my fists against his chest.

He had no right to stroll in like it was every other day after what he had done. Like what I went through

was nothing.

He caught both my hands in one grip, holding them against his chest to stop the pounding. My eyes,

shining with anger, shot to his face. He held them in place, looking down at me with a calm expression Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

that irked me to no end.

I thrashed, jerking back and forth in a bid to get free. The t-shirt wrapped around my head came loose

and slid to the ground. My hair fell around my shoulders, some locks falling across my face.

“Let go,” I gritted out, my gaze trained on the hand pinning down both of mine.

“Avy.”

“Let go!”

“Avy,” he repeated, steel in his tone.

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Avyanna!” He burst out, a commanding tone in his voice.

It was the first time I had ever heard him shout. My gaze flew to his, wide and glittering with unshed

tears. I half died of mortification.

“I was so scared,” I admitted quietly.

He held my gaze steady, apology pouring from his depths.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I truly am.”

A sudden wave of weariness took hold of me. I sighed.

“I was terrified.” I heaved a sigh, my head falling against his chest.

The wind had left my sails and suddenly all I was, was tired. His arms came around me, holding me up

before I could even start to fall.

“I thought...” I swallowed the aching lump in my throat. “I thought the worst. It was... I thought... I

thought you were gone.” Tears coated my lashes as I blinked in a bid to stop them from falling.

I hated myself a little for it and the way my voice came out croaky and brittle.

“I couldn’t. I... it was...”

I released my breath on a sigh and gave up on articulating my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m really sorry.”

My eyes drifted shut as I drew in a deep breath, steeling myself. Two breakdowns in the space of two

weeks was a record for me. It was a weakness I couldn’t allow to continue. A part of me was already

cringing at the fact that I actually admitted to being worried. I already couldn’t believe I did it and I was

still living the moment.

I was going to beat myself up for this for forever.

“Don’t do it again,” I said, picking up what was left of my dignity. My voice was hard as ice, driving away

-at least I hoped- the image of me falling into his arms.

What had I been thinking falling against him like that?