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And I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know what I’m into. And I don’t know what I’ve done to me. And as I watch you disappear into the ground, my one mistake was that I couldn’t let you down; So I’ll waste my time, and I’ll burn my mind




Greenwich, Connecticut

As I pulled the lace sleeves over my bruised and cut arms, I’d like to say I was thinking of my speech, or seeing Robby step up and taking control of The Lords, but my mind was blank, a numb pain vibrating my entire body as I locked on the veil with bobby pins. I began laughing suddenly, a high-pitched sound falling from my lips as I thought about how at my own father’s funeral, I was supposed to look presentable and put together, even though I was the one going through this; I was the one who was going to have to watch my father’s casket be lowered into the ground.

“You about ready?” Robby asked. I turned to see him standing in the doorway clad in an expensive looking black suit, a red handkerchief in his pocket; my father loved the color red. Staring at Robby I could see the wide bridge of his nose, like my father, he had the same kind eyes and laughter lines around his mouth. I had to look away and concentrate on the ground, seeing my father in Robby.

“I just have to grab my umbrella.” I answered, walking around my bed to my closet. We had flown back to America to bury my father at Silver Mount is Staten Island where both his parents were buried. We all had plots there, saved for when it was our time to go; I didn’t think my mother deserved a spot next to my father. It was snowing outside, so I grabbed my black trench coat and threw it on as I followed Robby out of my room. Being back in Connecticut didn’t feel right; this wasn’t who I was, not anymore. First my father and I could feel Arran close behind, ready to leave when things got too hard for him. I haven’t spoken to him since I left that day, but Saxon’s been keeping tabs on him, updating me every once in awhile. Her texts were short, simple, and I always felt like she was keeping things hidden away from me, but I was never sure, so I didn’t ask.

A town car was waiting out front as me and Robby huddled under the umbrella on our walk and I noticed red hair in the window. I knew she was going to be here, so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was angry, disgusted. I hadn’t told her that I knew she set me up, that what she said was a lie; I didn’t tell her what a horrid person she was, or throw a chair at her like I’d imagined many times, or even that I wish Satan had taken her instead of God taking my father. Climbing in, I saw Giovanna sitting next to that monster and gave her small smile; being the oldest of us all, she spent more time with him. While I was out partying, and Robby was out on missions for the gang, she was home with him, always at his side whenever he had free time.

“Your dress is a bit short, don’t you think?” My mother asked rhetorically, motioning towards my knee length dress.

I just smiled, “Father always liked this one.” She gave me a look and then moved her attention to the falling snow outside the window.

The ride over was silent, and I was thankful for that, knowing once we got there, everyone would tell us how sorry they were, or how great of a man my father was, and I knew the looks of pity thrown at me would drive me insane and eventually I’d have to go back to the car and hide out, not wanting to throw myself to the ground and sob like I felt I would.

When we pulled up, I saw the group of people seated in the folding chairs set out, the first row empty for us. There was a tent with plastic coverings set up to cover everyone and the empty hole in the ground, shielding them from the cold and wintery mix. As I approached my seat, I noticed a mop of curly hair a couple seats back and I could feel my chest constricting, breathing becoming a problem as I stumbled along the snow with Robby, who probably took my uneasiness as me trying to cope with the current situation.

When we passed the collection of people, my suspicions were confirmed when I made eye contact with Duncan, sitting at the end of the row. I questioned why they were there, the confusion evident on my face watching Duncan giving me a sad look. I quickly turned my attention to the ground, watching my feet carry me forward so I didn’t have to look at him. I sat between Giovanna and Robby, my mother at the end, her face void of any emotion as she nodded at the priest standing at a podium, a large arrangement of flowers close by.

“Seeing family friends is typically a blissful reunion, but sadly, there are times when we all gather to celebrate the life of somebody dear.” The priest began, opening a large bible.

I stopped listening, staring at a tree in the distance, concentrating on the disintegrating bark as the tree slowly died from the lack of sun it was receiving and the freezing temperatures it would endure for the next four months. I could only stare at the tree for so long before I found myself looking behind me, looking for the face I tried to convince myself I hated. It was as if he knew I was going to look at him, as I watched his head turn towards me at the same time; or maybe he’d been watching the whole time. We sat there for a couple of minutes, just taking in one another and I felt tears beginning to trickle down my face, chilling my skin as the salty water was exposed to the air. I turned back around, not wanting to give Arran any more satisfaction of seeing me vulnerable; I was supposed to be strong, the opposite of the girls who were over dramatic and controlling, but he never made anything easy for me.

Things could’ve been perfect, I thought to myself, or close to perfection, if I wasn’t the daughter of Salvatore de Luca or Arran wasn’t the son of Conall Killam. It would’ve been easier if we just bumped into each other in the club and I left like I intended, not paying attention to the blonde and brunette flying out the back of the club; I could’ve dropped them off on the corner instead of bringing them into my apartment. Thinking back, this was all my fault, everything came back to me or my family; the reason behind my pain was me. I didn’t have to go along with my father’s plan, I didn’t have to let Arran touch me, I didn’t have to give a damn when he ignored my pleas for any kind of emotion from him. But I did all of those things, and because of that, I felt not only the loss of my father, but I knew I was losing Arran.

My fatal flaw, my downfall was that I wanted to be the perfect daughter, to help my father in any way possible, and if befriending Arran was going to satisfy my father, then there was no question why I did it. But now I was second guessing myself, finding my efforts and my heartache useless as I watched my father’s casket lowered into the ground; he was six feet deep and The Lords and Untouchables were nowhere near an alliance from what I understood. It could’ve been perfect.

Getting up, I marched towards the exit of the tent, ignoring my family and people trying to send their condolences, and opened my umbrella, stepping onto the cold ground as I cried on my way to the car. I tried to hold it in for as long as I could, but once a single tear fell, it was as if a dam had broken, and I tried to make my way to the car, unable to properly see. Finally I threw my umbrella to the ground and held my hands to my face, sobbing uncontrollably, ignoring the wintery mix falling on me, or the sounds of people behind me, no doubt watching my melt down. My knees buckled beneath me, but I didn’t hit the ground; arms wrapped around my waist, and I could tell who those hands belonged to, even in the dark, or ten years from now; he’d be familiar to me.

“Get the fuck off of me.” I tried pushing him away, blindly shoving at any body part I could reach.

“Kyler.” He spoke quietly, trying to calm me down.

“Don’t touch me, don’t you dare touch me!” I screamed, throwing my fists, first hitting his jaw then sent multiple blows to the chest. Finally I gave up and leaned into him, clutching at his jacket, trying to pull him closer to me. He just held me up, cradling my head to his chest and his other hand supporting my back, whispering what I suppose were soothing words, but I couldn’t hear him.

I couldn’t hear anything, or feel anything; I should be experiencing my legs turning to icicles as I kneeled in the snow, or the feeling of Arran holding me, but I was numb.

“I’m going to take you home.” Arran finally spoke, moving to stand up, but my hands manically grasped at his coat, pulling him back down.

“Don’t leave me.” I sobbed, “Please don’t leave me.”

Arran just hushed me, moving from his knees to his feet as he stood, carrying me bridal style to his car. I didn’t know where Robby, Giovanna, or my mother was during all of this, but I didn’t care, I just scratched at the skin above my braced hand, trying to feel something. Arran sat me in the back seat of a car, careful to avoid smooshing my boot and good leg, before he went around and climbed in the other side, immediately at my side. I continued scratching as he rattled off something to the driver, watching blood begin to spill from several wounds, but I didn’t stop.

“What are you doing?” Arran exhaled deeply, placing his hand over mine, but when I didn’t stop be grabbed my good hand harshly, pulling it away from my forearm.

“I doesn’t hurt.” I said simply, staring at the lines of red dripping from my arm to my lace dress.

“Dammit, Kyler.” He said more to himself then to me. “We might as well put you in a full body cast, just to save us the time.”

I began laughing, a high-pitched sound falling from my mouth. I felt and sounded like a crazy person, my laughter turning from genuine to hysterical, tears falling from my eyes as I barely attempted to pull myself together.

“My father’s dead.” I cackled, not being able to control myself. “He’s dead, and my mother’s crazy, and Robby is going to take over and you don’t even care.”

“What are you talking about?” Arran looked at me like I was crazy.

I saw we had pulled up to his hotel, so I ripped my hand from his and climbed out of the car, hobbling up the steps and through the door, Arran close behind me.

“Kyler.” Arran called out when he stopped in the hallway, and I was already towards the elevator . “You don’t have an idea of where you’re going.”

I closed my eyes for a second, mentally cursing myself as I stood by the elevator, stepping in with Arran, keeping myself completely silent as we went up and to his room; I was saving all of it for when we were alone.

“You don’t fucking care!” I yelled, turning around, trying not to trip over my leg as soon as we’d walked through the door. “You don’t care about fucking anything!” I knocked a vase off a table with my cast, realizing how true my mother was when she told me I was all about the dramatics. “I ask for one fucking thing from you, and you just try to punch me instead of being honest! Instead of being vulnerable!” I took a picture off the wall and smashed it on the ground, throwing a fit like a toddler.

Arran just stood there, watching me throw things around, destroying the hallway.

“It’s like talking to a wall!” I threw my arms up, pulling at my hair, ignoring the pain in my hand. “Just give me something, please,” I went and slid down the wall, the tears starting again. “Give me a reason to stay, something to hold onto that I can tell myself over and over again that’ll justify all the shit you’ve put me through. Say something, even if it’s that you never want to see me again, I need to know.

A lot has happened in the last month and a half; I moved to London, I met Arran, battle of the gangs erupted, my mother revealed herself to be truly psychotic, and my father died. It was  so much to take on with such a small amount of time given to me to process everything that it was idiotic of me to think for even a second Arran’s main focus would be me. He had a life before me, and he’ll have one after me, and it was selfish and stupid to ask anything of him, especially after losing my father, I’d be in no condition to give him what he needed, or wanted. After sitting on my bottom, I got up to leave, trying to be as subtle as possible but my boot clobbering against the wood flooring was ruining my discreet exit.

“Where are you going?” Arran asked behind me after I had passed him.

“I’m done making a fool out of myself.” I was almost to the door when Arran reached out, grabbing at my injured hand to spin me around.

“What the fuck!” I yelped, turning to face him.

“I’m sorry,” Arran dropped my hand and looked around nervously. “It was supposed to be a lot more romantic than that, more like a Hugh Grant movie I suppose.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I flopped my head to the side, drained from the day I just had and the flight over and even from this conversation.

“I don’t want you to leave, Kyler.” He stated, one of his hands going to the back of his head, confusion falling on his face. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” I said, pressing my fingers to my temples. “Tell me what you want me to hear.”

“Why can’t you just accept what I’m trying to say when I tell you I want you to stay,” Arran’s brows furrowed, “here, with me.”

“The same way you can’t understand that I need something solid.” I answered.

“I understand you!” He yelled, turning around throwing his hands in the air, then to his hair before turning back to face me.

“Why are you the frustrated one here?!” I yelled in turn, angry that he thought he had any right to be angry at me.

“I fucking love you!” He shouted at me.

I stood frozen; convinced he’d never actually admit to it.

“I fucking love you.” He repeated quieter, walking towards me.

I didn’t make him walk far, seeing as I was throwing myself at him, blindly searching for his lips, grabbing his shoulders once I found them and our mouths effortlessly synced up. I pulled away and he pouted his lips and I literally laughed out loud, unable to control myself.

“Hugh Grant has way more charm than you,” I confessed, “but you’re much cuter.”

“I’d like to think so.” Arran smiled before wrapping me up again, our lips connecting


I just figured I was something that you couldn't replace, but there was just a blank stare and I couldn't relate. I just couldn't understand and I couldn't defend, what we had, what we shared, and I couldn't pretend. When the tears roll down it's like you ain't even notice ‘em. If you had a heart, I was hoping that you would've showed it some. What the fuck you really telling me, what you telling me? I could tell you lying, get the fuck out, don’t yell at me.



Three Weeks Later

London, England

“It was just a Torus fracture, much better than you thought originally, so you only need to wear the sling at night or when you feel your arm become too heavy.” Samuel, my family’s new London doctor explained after he cut the cast from my arm.

I went to see Sam after I ran out of my antibiotics and he insisted on inspecting my injuries; according to him, nothing was as bad as I’d described, so I’m a really fast healer I suppose. He also noted that my ankle wasn’t swollen because it was broken; one of my tendons slipped out of place and luckily since it was braced so quickly, no surgery didn’t need to be performed. Samuel handed me a sling and my bag of pain meds and papers for all the information I may want or need.

I walked out of his office with no cast, no braces, and no boot. My hand didn’t feel as much pain as it did, but my fingers and knuckles were still bruised horribly in some places, and my arm took some time to bend and unbend, but no pain. And while I couldn’t sprint, the fact that I could use both of my feet was a blessing and I wanted to jump in the air from literal joy.

The cut on my leg was closed and healing, my bruises on my face and neck were basically non-existent, and I was in stupid love. Everything seemed to be going well, and typically when that happened, something would blindside you and everything would fall to shit again; at least that’s what the movies taught you. I know I still had the secret of my father wanting me to use Arran for information over my head, but as each day passed, and things seemed to look a little brighter, the easier it was to try and forget it. Now that my father had passed, and Robby was in negotiations, I didn't see it necessary to bring it up.

“You don’t have a cast?” Robby commented when he stepped out of the car to open the door for me.

“Apparently my arm wasn’t broken to begin with. Well as bad as we thought.” I smiled as I climbed into the back of the car, watching Robby walk around to the driver’s seat.

“Of course not.” My mother stated from the front seat. She insisted on me seeing Samuel and coming along for my visit, even when I made it clear it wasn’t necessary or wanted.

“You seem so sure.” I looked around the headrest at her.

“You forget that I’m the one who ordered your injuries.” Drucilla looked out the window.

“I know I’m trying to.” Robby mumbled, concentrating on the road.

“Can you not be so cryptic and tell me what you’re trying to say?” I stabbed at my mother’s shoulder.

“Don’t poke me.” My mother turned, tossing my hand to the side. “I was simply saying that I knew you would be healed in couple weeks, but when you showed up in a cast and splints, I assumed your little boyfriend did more damage later on. Since that’s not the case, he lied to you about your injuries.”

I shook my head, sitting back against the seat, “No, Leo was the one who examined me, and Saxon was there.” I continued shaking my head. “They wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Well if it was ordered to lie to you, they probably wouldn’t think twice.” My mother fixed her sunglasses. “Besides, you act like you’ve known these people your whole life.” Drucilla began laughing.

“It’s practically been, what, two, going on three months? You’re nothing to them.”

“You can stop at the curb.” I told Robby as he pulled up outside of Arran’s house.

“I can go up the driveway.” Robby began to argue but I had already opened the door, forcing him to slam on the brakes, and made my way out of the car and across the lawn.

It was unusually sunny for a January afternoon in London, so when I removed my sunglasses and shoved them into my bag, I had to squint a bit to see the path to the front door. Once I was inside the warmth of the house, I removed Arran’s plaid shirt from my shoulders and tied it around my waist, exposing my vegan leather crop top. It dipped fairly low in the front, and when I left this morning I pulled Arran’s shirt on still wanting to wear the black top but keep myself warm. Now that my casts were off and I was actually mobile, Arran and I could finally have sex. It had been about a month since our last encounter when he took me on the side of the road, and I knew he was suffering from withdrawal just as much as I was.

As Arran came down the stairs, probably hearing me walk in, he didn’t meet my awaiting smile, instead he walked up to me and grabbed my arm.

“What happened to your cast?” He asked.

“I saw my doctor today!” I started, excitedly, releasing my arm from his grip to move about the room. “It was just a fracture, so I just have to wear a sling at night. And my ankle and hand are good.” I did a little dance as I made my way back to him. “I’m not going River Dancing with Duncan anytime soon, but it’s a start.”

I locked my wrists around Arran’s neck and gave a quick kiss to his stony lips. “What’s up with you?” I stepped back.

“I just thought you were going to get a refill,” Arran looked at me, “even though I told you Leo could do that.”

“Dru wanted me to meet the new doctor.” I shrugged my shoulders. “And he just wanted to take a look, which turned out to be a good decision so I don’t have to lug my heavy body around anymore. Leo probably just thought it was worse so did whatever he felt right.”

“Leo doesn’t just guess, he’s great at what he does.” Arran defended, his tone coming out harsh.

I pulled my head back quickly, giving Arran a pointed look. “What’s with the attitude?”

“I don’t have an attitude.” Arran stated and began walking towards the living room.

“It’s not like I said he was lying.” I huffed, standing in the foyer. “Unless he was lying and that’s why you’re getting so defensive.”

Arran turned like he was going to say something, stopping in his tracks, but continued into the living room around the corner.

“Goddammit!” I yelled, kicking my discarded medical bag; forgetting my ankle wasn't fully healed only fueled my anger. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arran yelled from the living room.

“Why do you insist on fucking lying to me, still!?” I screamed, ripping off my shoes and stomping up the stairs.

I could hear Arran move in fast behind me, and as I walked into the bedroom, he was hot on my trail.

“I’m not lying to you.” Arran argued.

“Refusing to answer me, withholding information, is the same thing as lying.” I stared at him.

Arran pulled at his hair, looking back and forth at nothing, his face getting red with frustration.

“What is it?” I demanded.

He continued to ignore me, and I knew the only way to ever get information out of him was to push him to his breaking point.

“What is it?!” I repeated, yelling this time as I shoved at his chest.

Arran moved his hands from his hair to grab one of my hands before quickly grabbing the other, and shoved me against the wall next to the door. He kissed me, starting at my lips and moved down my neck, moving his hands to my hips to pin them to the wall.

“Stop.” I craned my neck, trying to find a good angle. “Stop.” I pushed him off of me as hard as I could, feeling the stabbing pain in my arm and hand.

“You can’t distract me,” I pushed the hair out of my face, ignoring the numb pain in my arm. “And if you’re that desperate to not let it out that you’d try and use my love for you as a distraction, then it must be horrible. So if it’s that bad, it’s easier if I begin packing my bags as you start fucking explaining to me what the hell you’re so anxious to keep to yourself.” I stomped towards the closet.

“Kyler.” Arran pleaded, reaching out for my hand.

Once I felt his skin hit mine, I whipped my hand back and turned around, my hair following me wildly. “Fucking talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Arran growled.

“Do you love me?” I asked, turning in the doorway of the closet.

“Of course I do.” Arran said instantly.

“Well then, you’ll care if I leave, and if you don’t freaking tell me, that’s what I’m going to do.” I tilted my head to the side.

Arran’s face promptly went from annoyed to sad. “Either way you’ll leave.”

“How can you be so sure?” I wanted to walk towards him, place my arms around him, but I had to stand my ground. “Are you willing to risk it, to risk us, off of a hunch?”

Arran exhaled deeply and ran a hand over his face before he walked to the bed and sat on the edge. I watched him for a minute before I followed suit and sat next to him, my hand finding his and linking our fingers.

“It was selfish.” Arran started, staring ahead at the door as I watched the side of his face, concentrating on his words. “You’re injuries weren’t as serious as you were told. Leo lied, but not because he wanted to, it’s because I outranked him and demanded he did, which he hated. I wanted you to stay, as long as possible. Because I was afraid if you made it out of there you were going to leave me because I was the reason you were in there, and in that position. So I thought if you had time to be around me, and saw that I did care about you, you wouldn’t want to leave.”

Arran’s hand was violently squeezing mine the entire time he was talking and I was thankful it wasn’t my bruised one. A part of me wanted to tell him how disgusted I was with what he was telling me, but another part knew he was feeling guilty over something that my mother had a hand in, not him; what kind of person would I be if I let this eat at him when it wasn’t his burden to carry?

We sat in silence until Arran finally turned towards me and looked directly in my eyes. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

I took my free hand and gently massaged my hand out of his and I saw his eyes widen in panic. I quickly got up to straddle his lap and place my hands on each side of his face.

“Just tell me the truth.” I kissed his forehead. “That’s all I want. And you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Arran chuckled before his face got dark again. “There is one more thing.”

I bit my lip, watching his face change from one emotion to the next; it was unsettling seeing as how he usually kept his face in a grimace, not showing me anything.

“There’s a reason I came back to your apartment after you got me and Duncan out of the club.” He looked down at his hands resting in my lap.

“Cause of my sparkling personality and irresistible charm?” I laughed, but Arran didn’t.

“It’s because Jasper told me to. After I had mentioned we'd run into you.” He continued staring down.

I was glad Arran wasn’t looking at me as my heart plummeted and it suddenly became hard to breathe. He must’ve felt my body become rigid because his head whipped up, his hands moving to my face as mine slipped from his.

“It was easy in the beginning; I didn’t think anything like this would happen.” Arran’s hands moved my face so I was looking at him but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I quickly got off of him and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me before I kneeled in front of the toilet, my stomach expelling today’s contents, my body shaking violently as I tried to fight my body's natural reaction. Once I believed I was finished, I pushed myself against the wall, my body shaking and eyes watering.

“Kyler.” Arran spoke from behind the door.

“Go away.” I said quietly, trying to calm the tremor in my hand.

“Kyler, please.” He pleaded.

“Go away!” I yelled, throwing a bottle of toilet cleaner at the door.

I was losing my mind, I must be, there is no way we both could have been ordered to expose the other, and it was way too twisted for that to be possible. I couldn’t believe everything was a lie; I wasn’t much better, but I knew what I felt was real. I had to call into question if Arran was just that good of an actor, and after everything with Robby and Jasper went down, he’d drop me, amused that I was gullible to believe him. I tried to calm my breathing down, afraid that I would make myself pass out if I didn’t stop hyperventilating.

I grabbed at my phone in my back pocket, dialing Robby’s number.

“Yeah?” He answered on the first ring.

“Can you come get me please?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the shakiness out of my voice.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice lowering.

“Nothing, just come get me.” I begged.

“I’ll be there in less than ten.” He hung up.

I got off the floor, listening for any movement in the bedroom, and I was glad Arran was nowhere to be found when I opened the door. I quietly walked through the room and to the stairs, walking down them to my discarded shoes. I began putting my shoes on when Arran came from the kitchen.

“You’re leaving.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I just need to clear my head.” I commented, tears sneaking out of my eyes.

“Are you coming back?” He asked.

“I don’t know” and I didn’t; I was just as fucked up as he was, and I needed to sort things out before I did anything.

“If I asked you to stay, would it even be worth it?” Arran asked, he voice cracking a bit, causing my tears to come out harder.

I was hurting him, genuinely hurting him, and I couldn’t do anything about it, which showed me how fucked up this was; how toxic this was, for the both of us.

I walked up to Arran and wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling his arms connect behind me. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He asked, and I pulled away and kissed his cheek before I turned, making my way towards the door.

“Kyler!” He yelled, but I was already walking through the door, and I didn’t stop as I shut the door behind me and ran across the lawn and down the street, figuring I’d run into Robby eventually.

“Kyler!” I turned and saw Arran pulling a jacket on as he walked out the door, so I continued running until I saw Robby’s car and climbed in the back, making him rip out of the neighborhood. I looked behind me watching Arran as he stood on his lawn, watching the car disappear.

Submitted: September 23, 2015

© Copyright 2022 Seraphina94. All rights reserved.


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