Sylvie
"You were smiling just now, was Michael making you smile?" Antonio asked as he rose from the bed and approached me fiercely.
"That's none of your business." I replied curtly, hoping he would leave but he didn't. Instead he pushed me against the wall roughly and pinned my hands above my head.
"What's up with you and Michael Black? Why is he all happy and kind with you?"
"How am I supposed to know?! Why don't you ask him yourself if you're so curious. Aren't you the hottest model in the city? I'm sure nobody will be able to refuse you." I replied with unhinged sarcasm, my eyes equally burning with the same intensity as his. I was not about to sit around and watch Antonio boss me around like he used to.
"You've grown the balls to talk smart with me, is that it?!" He yelled, his hold on me tightening violently.
"Let me this instant Antonio." I snapped at him, but he wasn't listening. His grip tightened even further, and this time I couldn't restrain myself from letting out a muffled scream. "You're hurting me Antonio!" I alerted.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize Michael doesn't hold you this tightly." He shot back before throwing me to the side forcefully. "You're a slut Sylvia Mulberry, and you should be ashamed of yourself."
"Get out of my room or I'm calling security!" I screamed at him while I struggled to restrain my tears.
"Do what you want Sylvie, just know that I hate you. I hate you so fucking much!" He yelled out as he glared at me. I stared back at him, my teary eyes filled with shock and confusion. Why does he hate me? What did I ever do to him? I wondered as Antonio walked out and slammed the door without morals.
I broke down into tears the moment he left. Not only had he traumatized me just now, the pain on my wrists were excruciating. This was the first time a man had acted so violently towards me, and this feeling was completely new to me.
As I lay on my bed, crying my eyes out, a hesitant knock on the door disrupted the heavy silence. Irritated, I mumbled, "Go away, please." The last thing I wanted was for someone to see me in this condition.
"Hey, it's me," a familiar voice called from the other side. It was Michael, and hearing his voice had surprised me. I hesitated for a moment before reluctantly getting up to open the door. Swiping at my tears, I tried to compose myself.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice wavering with a vulnerability I fought to keep hidden.
Michael's eyes widened as he caught sight of my tear-streaked face. "Are you okay? What happened?" Concern etched across his facials.
I shook my head, avoiding eye contact. "It's nothing, really. I was just crying about my flooded apartment."
He didn't buy it, and his gaze lingered on me. "You don't have to pretend with me. If something's wrong, you can talk to me." His sincerity struck a chord, but I still failed to open up to him. There was no telling what Antonio would do to me if he gets punished by Michael.
"It's fine, Michael. I just need some time alone," I insisted, attempting a weak smile.
His expression softened. "I heard arguing from your room, but I won't force you to say anything to me. However, I'm not leaving until I know you're okay." He said with a sense of finality. I knew he wasn't going to leave, and I honestly didn't have the energy to argue anymore.
I sighed, "Fine, come in."
As he stepped into the room, Michael's eyes scanned the disarrayed space, and he turned back to me.. "Talk to me, please," he urged, concern etched on his face.
"It's just some personal stuff. I'll handle it," I replied, before rushing forward to pick up the books and tables I'd thrown around out of rage and frustration. He was genuinely concerned about me, and every second I spent lying to him was more painful than the pain on my wrists.
Michael sighed and finally gave in to my word. I could tell he still wanted to ask me more about everything and who I had been arguing with, but he chose to respect my words and keep mute about the entirety situation. However, he did not plan to leave me alone, not until I'd gotten rid of the sad face I was wearing.. "Alright, I ask you about anything. But I'm staying here with you until you feel better."
Despite my protests, Michael settled on the bed. His presence created a warm atmosphere around my gloomy and I cold room. I had thought that being alone was best for me at the moment, but just now I had realized how much I needed someone, even if it was only for a moment.
Unable to mask my exhaustion, I mumbled, "you don't really have to do this. I'm completely fine by myself."
Michael's eyes softened, and he stood, moving closer. "I'm not leaving. Not when you're hurting like this."
A wave of gratitude washed over me. I didn't have the strength to argue, to insist on my independence. I finally yielded and came to terms with the fact that I needed the comfort he offered. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice quivering thanks to the overwhelming build of emotions within me.
He pulled me into a gentle embrace, his arms providing a warmth that urged me to release all my grief. My tears built up, but I kept them from falling. Michael was already doing so much for me, the least I could do at the moment was not soil his soft nightwear with my tears.
In his arms I felt comfort and peace, one that I had abandoned in my adult years. I felt like a baby being cradled to sleep by her father. I had no words to describe the feelings blossoming inside of me, but it was warm and radiated peace inside of me.
"Thank you." I whispered as I felt natures call slowly taking me away. The last thing I remembered was his lips curling up in a warm smile, and in the next second I had drifted off into unconsciousness.