"That man is a monster."
I zap between a channel and another hoping to find something to distract me from Taylor's words.
Ever since Ashley moved into this house, it seems like my apartment is
has become a meeting place for people who need to be hospitalized in an asylum and that are
a danger to society ... like Taylor and Tessa, but also Right-ass and Left-ass, that I don't know how they got in, even though I'm so distracted in
this moment that thieves could enter as well and I would not notice it anyway.
I've seen all the episodes of Peaky Blinders, enough to get tired of Tommy Shelby and his
creepy eyes, and the only interesting thing I find on TV is Doctor Pimple Popper.
"He won the first fight." - Ian tries to bring me back to reality, but my eyes don't move away from the television and I pretend not to listen to them as they continue to talk about Matthew.
It is the third time that I have looked at them badly to make them understand that I don't want to hear his name, but they have no intention of calculating me at all, since they do nothing else
but praising him.
"But it's the last the important one." - the blond sitting next to Tessa concludes thoughtfully,
but in my head I do nothing but mentally curse Matthew's opponent for
not having smashed his face like I would right now.
I haven't seen him for days, but I haven't missed him, in fact, I hope he continues to
stay in New York until the last meeting in order not to see him.
I'm so pissed off that I mentally slap myself at the thought of letting myself go that night at the gym.
I should have run away as soon as he got his hands on me and I'm sure he wouldn't have bothered me anymore, because Matthew is not Paul and he wouldn't have hurt me if
I tried to get away.
What worries me is that if I would find myself in the same situation of that evening, damn it, I'd do the same thing!
I would let him kiss me like I've never stopped dreaming every night, and maybe I would go even further
without being able to stop it.
My cheeks are on fire at the mere memory of his almost violent caresses, while he hugged my body as if he was afraid I would change my mind and run away.
Instead ihe was the one who ran away.
I squeeze the remote control in my fingers as I continue to switch from one channel to another
when his enraged gaze shows up in front of my eyes again, as if in
this moment he was in front of me like that night, while he looks at me almost with disgust
for still being a virgin.
The corners of my mouth curl down and I relax my shoulders slowly, starting
to think that maybe he has no fault.
How could I think of being up to all the models that are buzzing around him.
I take my eyes off the television with a frown, then bring them back down and stare
my giant sweatshirt.
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