Part 1 (2/2)

My feet carry me away from the office and lead me through the kitchen, to the back entrance of the building. And more importantly, my garden.

I kneel by the vegetable patch, close my eyes and pray for guidance. Praying for courage, the rosary beads wound around my hand are so tight, they threaten to cut off the circulation there.

When I hear the familiar rumble of an engine, I jump to my feet. I tell myself to be calm and think rationally. That's obviously not going to happen today. Standing on shaking legs, I move to block the path where he rides. My face stern, eyes void, I see him approach, but really I don't see him at all. Blood rushes through my body; pressure builds behind my eyes and ears. I feel as though I'm going to explode from the anger sizzling my insides.

The motorbike stops a foot away from me. He removes his helmet, smirking, ”I was going to come looking for you, but you found me first.” Standing from the bike, he walks over to me with a hungry look in his eyes. ”Let's finish what we started this morning.”

My hands ball into fists. Of all the emotions rus.h.i.+ng through me, two stand out. Disappointment and hurt.

He hurt me.

It f.u.c.king hurts.

Meeting him halfway, I step forward, wrench my arm back, and in one swift move, I break Marco's nose.

I expect him to fall, but he doesn't. He's too solid to go down from one punch.

He steps away from me, his green eyes blazing. Blood drips from his nostrils over his lips and down his chin. His voice should scare me, but I'm too p.i.s.sed to notice. He utters slowly in complete calm, ”What the f.u.c.k?”

My response comes in the form of a high kick to his cheek.

His eyes widen in surprise, but it's too late. That takes him down. Not all the way down, but he sinks to his knees.

I should feel victorious, but I don't. I feel sad.

I take a step back, watching him all the while. He stands, jaw set. ”You're upset about something. I get that. But I don't know why.” He eyes search me while his voice softens, ”Tell me what's wrong, honey.”

My back arches like a rabid dog preparing to attack. My body trembles, fighting to hold back the anger that threatens to overcome. I speak through gritted teeth, ”Don't you call me that. You shut your f.u.c.king mouth.”

Blood slowly drips down his neck. He put his hands up slowly in a placating gesture. ”I'm okay. You broke my nose but we're cool. I'm not angry. So why don't we take this back to my room and we can talk about it there. Okay?”

I'm just about ready to attack for a third time when he utters softly, ”Baby, if I did something to offend you...”

I spit, ”Your being alive offends me. Shut the f.u.c.k up.”

Not one to back down, he walks closer to me. I don't back away; instead, I contemplate my next move.

His eyes narrow in what looks to be hurt. ”Seriously? Don't say s.h.i.+t like that. Not cool, Cat.”

I can't stop myself.

I launch myself at him. Only this time, he knows it's coming. I see him raise his elbow a second before it hits my temple.

My body flies backwards. I land, back first, with an oomph to the hard ground. Marco's eyes widen. ”f.u.c.k!” He's by my side in a mere moment. Looking over my body, he states heatedly, ”I didn't want to do that. I didn't mean to do that.” He glares at me and booms, ”Stop hitting me!”

In a moment of weakness, my eyes sting.

Chest heaving, I reach into my pocket with a quaking hand. I pull out the offending item and place it on my lap.

Marco stands up and away from me. ”Where'd you get that?”

I don't bother answering. What's the point?

It's over.

This is the first time I've seen cool and calm Marco panic. He paces, running a hand over his buzzed hair. ”You tell Bob?”

My lip curls. ”Not yet, but I will the second he gets back.”

He stops pacing and turns to look at me. ”This wasn't meant to happen. That was all before. I wasn't going to-”

The black Mercedes coming down the drive cuts him off.

Not needing to think about his course of action, Marco walks back to his bike, leaving his helmet on the ground. As Bob steps out of the Mercedes, he looks back and forth between us. With Marco's nose broken and my eye already swelling shut, Bob's body turns rigid as he roars, ”What the f.u.c.k is going on here?”

Marco watches me for a second more. With deep regret in his eyes, the bike roars to life, turns around, and then speeds away.

Away.

Far away.

I hear Bob kneel by my side. I don't dare look at him. The backs of his knuckles brush my swelling eye gently. ”Cat, what happened?”

Chest heaving, I realise I have no choice. I look up at my adoptive father. I swallow hard, preparing to tell him the dreadful news. News that f.u.c.ks us all. ”Marco's a cop.”

Chapter Two.

It's James all over again.

Cat, the f.u.c.ked-up orphan, screws up a second time.

There's a theme happening here.

As I stand in the middle of Bob's office, I watch as he paces for a second. Suddenly, I want to turn my back, take my s.h.i.+t and leave. Leave for good.

My once easy existence has become a hard living. I felt like a failure when it happened the first time. Now that it's happened a second time, I'm convinced that Bob was wrong about me. When you make the same mistake twice, it's no longer a mistake. It's a choice.

Sure, James wasn't a cop, but the fact remains that I was wrong about him. As I was wrong about Marco.

If this were my destiny, why the f.u.c.k is G.o.d making it so hard for me to stay on this path?

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