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𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀

Getting ready for bed in his home was soothing.

I finished doing my usual evening stretches and yoga which had led to me taking a lengthy, bath with dried flowers and Epsom salts to heal my sore body. The dancing had drained me which required some intense relaxing. Nothing felt better than doing a full body night time routine and being comfy with no bra on.

I was circling around the bathroom wearing a cherry printed pyjama set with an eye mask on my head. Thankfully, Iris had arranged for all my stuff to be brought over.

It occurred to me that I had eaten too much. Or at least I thought I did.

I knew it wouldn't happen, but my mind slipped to the possibility that I could wake up the next day overweight, unable to walk with my body swelled with fat from all I had eaten. I imagined myself triple my size, heaving to breathe with a face of a pig, triple chinned and obese. I felt fat, I felt ugly. In the mirror, I found myself checking my face to reassure myself that my worries were ridiculous and completely unrealistic.

My mother's words were beginning to run through my mind. I could practically feel the whips on my stomach, the ones she gave me whenever I ate too much.

Feeling tense, I continued to stare at the toilet and almost gagged at the thought of shoving my fingers down my throat again. Swallowing roughly, I struggled to control my breath and placed my hand on my chest, feeling immense pressure to get onto my knees and barf. I was holding myself back, restraining from emptying the contents of my stomach.

I had definitely eaten too much. I would get scolded, it would all go wrong, I could relapse to binge eating and gain weight, lose my career and followers. I was panicking over nothing, I knew and yet the fears kept tormenting me if I didn't do something about this bloated, fat feeling. My stomach was going to expand and explode, I shouldn't have ate that much. I should have rejected his plate and stuck with the salad.

I had bathed and yet I felt smelly, gross and stuffy. I didn't want to do it, I hated doing it. Betraying Iris would eat me alive. She didn't want me to do it and I didn't want to disappoint her or hurt her.

But I found myself on my knees, lifting the toilet seat. The tears were beginning to brim into my eyes. I hated crying and yet I was fighting tears, fighting the urge. No one was forcing me and yet I felt like I was being pushed to vomit. A gag came out of me, I felt the food rising up my throat. I was resisting and resisting until I lifted my fingers into my mouth, moving them backwards.

"Come downstairs."

I flinched at the sound of his voice from the other side of the door.

It came out of nowhere and I was on my butt, startled at the sound.

Did he hear me?

Did he know?

Could he tell?

I realised the door was partly open and almost groaned out loud at my stupidity, hoping he didn't see.

I quickly wiped my eyes placed the toilet seat down. Moving to the sink, I washed my hands, getting myself out of the daze. I was composing my heart as I dried my hands, slightly shaking. Hoping he didn't know and merely wanted to talk to me, I opened the door and made my way downstairs.

In the living room, he sat in the middle of his plush, dark chair, a small coffee table in front of him. His eyes were focused on the massive television that blended into the midnight cabinents and was playing a documentary. The room was so dark. The large curtains had hidden any light and it was only one floor lamp illuminating the place. It was small and cosy; I walked across the dark wood and sat beside him on the sofa which I practically sunk into.

"Well done for not caving in."

He knew.

I stiffened, feeling uncomfortable that he found out. It was a moment of weakness that I quickly wanted to forget. My nails picked at my skin as I swallowed roughly. When I didn't respond, focusing on the television, he said delicately, "talk to me." I turned my head and looked at him, but he wasn't facing me. He pushed his thick, dark glasses up his nose bridge. He looked more attractive wearing them on. I bit my lip, hesitating before giving in. He sounded so open that I almost bursted into tears in front of him.

"I ate too much."

I faced the television again, trying to ignore the thought of going back to the bathroom.

"You didn't," he said gently. "Talk to me when you want to do it. . . just like we used to. I'm here."

In that moment, I became fully aware that he did still care about me. My heart warmed. I couldn't look at him, in fear he would see how touched I was. His words were so simple yet meaningful to me. I felt comforted even though he barely said anything and all the feelings troubling me earlier had dispersed, leaving me free.

"Thanks," I quietly replied, a small smile coming onto my face. We sat watching the animal documentary a little longer and I was beginning to feel a recognition of how tired I was. My eyes were slowly fluttering as they struggled to stay open, but I fought to stay awake, just to be beside him a little longer.

To keep myself going, I forced myself to sit upwards and got talking again. "Aren't you tired?" I stifled a yawn as he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging underneath his sleeves.

"If you're tired, your room is upstairs."

"There's only one," I mentioned which he already knew.

"I stay here anyway."

"Why?" I asked him, before noticing the sleeping tablets on the table. My eyebrows furrowed at the sight.

"I don't sleep."

"You don't. . .sleep?" I repeated inquisitively, feeling a little more awake. The documentary ended and he picked up the remote, emotionlessly flicking through the options for another one. It was then I saw how tired he looked. Though he appeared to be able and functioning well, sat on the sofa he seemed a lot more downer in spirits. His eyes looked as though they hadn't had a wink of rest for a while and his posture was slightly slouched as though he was ready to drop. I frowned, noticing his demeanour.

"I can't sleep," he casually told me, picking a documentary about crime.

Fitting.

I was about to inquire more until I heard the sound of paws coming closer and before I knew it, there was a dog sitting beside me, sniffing my body. I smiled, sitting up and running my fingers across his soft fur, beaming at the adorable, big Cockapoo. "Your dog is cute," I complimented, letting his head rest on my leg. The animal was quiet like his owner but seemed friendly, welcoming me to pet him.

"That's Bear."

"Bear?" I repeated incredulously. "You named him Bear?" I looked at him in surprise.

"What's wrong with Bear?" Leonardo inquired in a lighter tone, his hand leaning over my leg and ruffling his dog's head. The name suited Bear; he was a huge animal.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, a large smile on my face. "It's adorable. I'm just surprised you would have a dog."

"Me too," he murmured, petting him a little more before retreating his hand.

"I'm glad you're not all alone in this house," I added, gazing at the calm dog.

I started, "You-"

"Shh."

I softly chuckled, focusing on the television again that he was so focused on. His social battery seemed to have lowered as he didn't talk again for a while. He wasn't always big on TV, it appeared to be his new found hobby.

I guessed that was what he did every night; sat petting his dog after taking sleeping tablets then knocking himself out onto the couch. It saddened me to see that he was still struggling to sleep. Our circumstances had changed; I couldn't exactly do the same as before where I would let him sleep beside me whenever I snuck over to his house. Or could I?

I wanted to offer him so until I turned my head to notice that he was dozing off, his head slowly moving down as his breathing got deeper. He was tired too.

I lowered the volume of the TV and moved off the chair, letting Bear sleep on the other side. Taking the soft blanket from the side of the sofa, I gently draped it over his bulky body, watching how peacefully he slept. I hoped he would turn and let his head rest on the cushion beside him but he didn't. Not wanting to wake him up, I gently moved his body so he slowly fell onto the cushion, resting his head. Taking off his spectacles, I placed them onto the table in front after folding them closed.

I didn't hesitate to kiss his forehead, whispering a 'good night' to him.

Hoping he slept well, I made my way upstairs to sleep.

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LEONARDO

The fire that killed my sister plagued my sleep every night.

It was also that day where I last saw Maria.

We argued that night - we argued about the marriage, what we wanted, our future.

I hurt her, yelling at her that she had to go, she had to leave with her father and attend the ballet programme for her future, that she couldn't stay waiting for me.

I remembered the words that got her to stop trying with me. "I don't love you - in fact, I hate your fucking presence around me. I want you gone so leave! I'm done with you."

The young girl looked so broken - so deeply anguished. She was shocked, appalled at what I said. Her eyes were filled with tears that began streaming down her cheeks as her legs gave out and she dropped onto the grass, struggling to even look at me. The pain she was feeling - I caused.

"You're pushing me away so I'll go - I know it," she convinced herself in a hoarse, emotional voice. She was correct; I had to in order for her to be safe from my father. She wiped her eyes, looking up at me, those sparks of grey eyes angrily glaring at me. I scoffed, forcing myself to stand strong and not break in front of her. I was trembling myself, second by second hating myself more for making her cry.

I ripped childish threaded charm bracelet she had made us, tossing it at her. She tried to mask the pain written all over her face. "You want me to go?" Maria tearfully asked, her voice beginning to shakily rise as her rage grew. She lifted herself to her feet, coming to me and standing right before me. With our faces close together, her eyes were burning into mine, full of tears and heartbreak. I forced myself to give her a cold glare back, showing none of the true emotions brewing inside of me.

I had to do this. To save her. She had to go for her own safety.

"I want you," I began, roughly, taking a step closer, my hand gripping onto her shoulder as she moved backwards, trying to escape my hold. She winced, tears rolling down her cheeks. Each movement was hurting me as much as her, I despised myself for bringing so much pain to her. "Let go," she croaked out, a small whimper coming out of her. I wanted her to fear me, run away and never search for me; she deserved so much better than a bastard like me.

"To leave, to get out of this place and to never come again." She pushed my hand away, about to push my chest until I grabbed her wrists, pulling her to me. She looked at me with such fury and displeasure through her sad eyes, trying to pull away from me. "Let me go!"

"And if you do," I brutally warned with menace in my tone, "you will fucking regret it."

"You're not like this!" Maria cried, finally freeing herself from my grip. She took a few steps back as though to protect herself from me. She feared me. "You're not like him," she whispered tearfully, the disappointment in her overwhelmed me. I looked away, swallowing with sorrow as I struggled to compose myself. The thought of ending up like my father terrified me. The comparison affected me. The fact that she could see him in me, caused me great anguish and pain.

"Leave."

She then scoffed, shaking her head at me. "I'll come back." her voice was full such malice and coldness, it felt powerful. "Just you wait. Bastard."

When Maria left, my heart remained with a deep emptiness, a void that cold never be filled. The loneliness that followed me for the rest of those years without her was killing me slowly everyday.

I was being honest; I didn't love her. She deeply cared for me more than I could possibly feel for her. My father was right; I was incapable of love just like him, and for a long time, he manipulated me into believing I was just like him. I couldn't fight from my fate.

I didn't understand what love was. I didn't understand how she could love someone like me or even fully grasp the feeling of love. I didn't know what it was like to be in love. Like he said, no one could love someone like me - there was nothing special about me.

He was somewhat proud when I returned to tell him in his office that she was gone. I never specified the fact that she was alive and too far away for him to touch, he was engrossed in his wish to eliminate the Amante family after losing his traitor of a friend.

I was on my knees again that day whilst he stood intimidatingly in front of me, ready to serve me another beating.

It wasn't long until we could smell a musty scent of smoke rising between the floorboards, seeping between the cracks of the door and reaching our nostrils.

I never forgot how he saved himself first, typical of such a selfish man. I could still smell the smoke, the feeling of suffocation mixed with intense panic and fear whilst I searched for the rest of my family.

The mansion was engulfed by flames, crackling and snapping, the bright ribbons surrounded me. It was intense and hot, I was fighting to breathe as I fought my way out. It was traumatising; the screams, the fear of the unknown and the imminent sense that death felt inevitable. The struggle to see and move; the pain of failing to avoid the strikes of flames scalding my body.

The fire left me with irreversible scars both physically and mentally. I was barely awake by the time I got out.

The only person who didn't escape was my sister.

The sizzling blaze destroyed the mansion with beams collapsing, the roof sunken in leaving the place in a pile of futile mess, barely standing and unstable.

I did go back into the fire to search for her but it only earned me more burns.

The ordeal was inconsolable - I was left broken forever.

When I woke up, it was early dawn outside. As usual, I was covered in cold sweat, shaking at the haunting memory. My heart was frantically pounding as I looked around the room in horror, still feeling the same fear from that fire. I took in a deep breath, remembering that I could still breathe.

Looking down, Bear was gazing up at me. The dog had sympathy for me, rubbing his head against my leg in what seemed to be an act of kindness. I sighed, petting his head softly, my fingers running through his fluffy fur.

My body felt heavy; it was as though I hadn't even slept. I could feel the heaviness of my body, the weight was pulling me down. I could barely move, my eyes were aching and my head was spinning. I was desperate for a peaceful sleep which I knew I could never receive. The sleeping pills were useless, once again. I recalled the fact that I needed to take my antidepressants but hated the idea. They weren't exactly helping either.

Having insomnia and being what the doctor called, 'depressed' was not a good combination. It was a constant force that was pressing down on me; it was a feeling that always tormented me, from the moment I woke up till the moment I woke from a nightmare. The daily torture was intense.

The repetitive cycle of getting up, drowning in my sorrow, feeling too lazy to start the day, too tired to leave the house, constantly at rock bottom. I felt empty inside, desolate and exhausted all the time. Most of the time, I was just surviving, living life because I had to since my attempts to end this misery always failed. It was easier to kill others than myself.

I managed to get up and noticed my glasses on the table. I couldn't remember placing them down. I hated wearing them during the day and as usual, decided to put contacts in later. I slowly made my way to the kitchen where I drank a tall glass of cold water to wake me up. I rubbed my eyes and gripped the end of the counter, exhaling loudly.

Another fucking day to endure.

I had work which was something I couldn't escape - I envision the piles and stacks of documents waiting for my permission.

I fed Bear his breakfast and made my way upstairs, casually opening my bedroom door and flicking the dim lights on. I felt the breeze of the wind, wondering where it was coming from.

Noticing a figure in the bed, I realised my mistake - forgetting I no longer shared the apartment to myself.

I was surprised not only to see her small frame on the bed, but the fact that she had opened the large windows and was lying curled up into a ball snoozing on the bed.

Questioning how she managed to sleep in such temperatures, I quickly closed the window and pulled the blinds.

Was she crazy?

I couldn't sleep at all, but I knew warmth helped me. Meanwhile, she was there sleeping with light clothes on top of the comforter and the window open.

Looking over at her, she looked so tiny. Maria wasn't a short girl but her curled position made her look so small and at peace. Her face was snuggled into the duvet with her long, silky hair covering her. She didn't even have any socks on making me question if the apartment was really too hot.

I didn't like the feeling of cold and couldn't help but question if she was comfortable. I debated for a moment before deciding to pick up the end of the duvet and flick it over her so at least she was wrapped up in what looked like a cocoon of warmth.

I found myself getting closer and moved a few strands of her hair away from her face so she could breathe properly. She looked so ethereal even whilst sleeping; her natural beauty was a blessing, she didn't even need to try to look beautiful. I quickly looked away, not wanting to find myself staring. It felt illegal being around her while she was sleeping.

I left the room and decided to go work out. At least that would get me awake for the rest of the day.

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~ Author's Note ~

This chapter was a little cute wasn't it?

Leonardo was there to be with Maria when she was trapped in her own negative thoughts. She has a lot to work on throughout the story on her body image.

Leonardo's POV! As for Leonardo, he's insomniac, depressed and a victim of PTSD. As his character grows, readers will see how he copes and changes in his condition.

The last conversation between Maria and Leonardo all those years ago was unresolved. But with such a sudden ending, could things rekindle?

Thoughts on this chapter?

For more, please vote, comment, share and follow. Votes and comments really help me know how the story is going, if the book is captivating or not, and helps boost my confidence for more updates :)

Thanks for reading!

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