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"𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦:
𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧;
𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥;
𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭;
𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠;
      𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭."

The conversation with my mum is one of the things that's been on my mind lately

I keep thinking about what she said and described. I keep trying to dissect everything she described feeling for my dad like doing so would make my nerves go away and ease my worries about the thought nagging at the back of my mind.

I can't compare what my mum felt, to my own life when we're both different people. I love my mum and I can see the resemblance between us sometimes but we aren't alike in many ways and her shyness and my outgoing behaviour are only just the obvious.

I don't get nervous or shy around any man and I sure as fuck don't blush at their compliments and because of crap, they say. Sure, I caught myself smiling and replaying my conversation with Azrael, but that was only because I found it amusing and because it was one of the only conversations I've had with him where I didn't continuously think about ripping off his head.

There is no way in hell that I'd ever like that psychopathic asshole, so I don't even understand why I'm giving this any thought and stressing about the whole ordeal. I've never liked anyone before so I'm certain he won't be the first.

If I didn't have feelings for the sweet guy I lost my virginity to, there is no way in hell that I'd ever have feelings for the psychopath who threatened to mount my head on his bedroom wall if I didn't stay out of his way on the first day of college.

Nothing has changed, I still hate him. Our arrangement hasn't and never will change the fact that I hate him. This is still just a means to an end and nothing he says or does will ever change that.

I don't care that he's devastatingly attractive, insanely great in bed, defends me behind my back -even though we hate each other, or that he's the only guy who hasn't gotten intimidated or scared off by me.

None of those things are good enough to make me forget about my hatred for him and all the crap he's said and done to me over the last two years. None of those things would ever be great enough to make me develop feelings for him either.

I keep reasoning with my overthinking mind, hoping that it'd erase these awful thoughts from my mind, but it's to no avail.

Masculine screams, curses and pain-filled groans pull me away from the first thing that's been on my mind and driving me crazy, and brings me to the second thing that's been on my mind. I kept thinking about what Miles said and decided I couldn't let the other idiots get off easy.

If it weren't for my mother's heart which I unfortunately inherited, Miles would have received a much harsher punishment for what he said to those idiots about me in the boy's locker room. The only reason I went easy on him is because he's far too fragile and I never hit anyone who I know would never hit me back.