The one who never got away /Through his eyes/

 Pure rage fills my veins while I'm looking at her emotionless face. My vision is blurred by the tears stinging in my eyes and the lump in my throat is stuck so deep, the lack of oxygen is making me dizzy.   "It's over! I'm tired of this!" I shout at her in anger and my heart sinks into my feet. 'It's over.'   "Why?! Because I want to pursue a career?! Honestly, James, this is such a coward's move."   I'm this close to losing my shit and doing something I might regret, so instead, I turn my back at her and lean on the wall before I can collapse.   "Leyla, I'm tired of this. I'm tired of explaining why. I'm tired of you." A tear rolls down my face. Fuck it!    "James, don't be so childish. I thought we went past this." I feel her from behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder as if she believes she can calm me down.   "Don't touch me! Just don't! Yo

"James, I'm so happy that you actually came!" The woman sitting in front of us speaks and I feel physical pain in my ears by just listening to her voice.   "Only because of Abigail. You can thank her," I put my hand over Abigail's, gently brushing the knuckles of her small hand.   I talked to her before coming and she agreed to play a girlfriend of mine or whatsoever. I explained to her the taste my father has for women and I think the thought of him hitting on Abigail is what made her agree to play my lover. Plus, I have suspicions that Milena wants something from me.   And who is Milena? It's the twenty-eight second wife of my father. Awfully annoying, over the top egocentric and a huge gold digger. She's quite good looking, there's no doubt. And she knows it. She used her looks and my father's vulnerability to entangle him and marry him. And how old is he? Fifty-four. Yes, she's just a year younger than me. And is sup

"Oh my God, James! This is ridiculous!"   Abigail bursts into uncontrollable laughter after I tell her one of my embarrassing childhood memories. Something about eating chicken food to show one of the chickens how to eat. Yeah, that's me. In my full glory. I have a handful of embarrassing memories and if telling them means I'll see more of Abigail and less of Miss Kingsley, I will gladly tell them all.    I'm just sitting here, having lunch with Abigail and watching her having, what I believe is, a good time with me.   It passes maybe a minute or two in which she's just laughing at my younger self stupidity before she can catch a breath and be able to talk again.   "God, James..." she continues laughing but oh damn... The way she says "God, James"... It makes my thoughts travel in a whole different direction. Add the images of her bouncing butt as she's walking and you get the receipt for an unc

"What the fu--"   I wake up by continuously hard clinking of metal and thunderous sounds. I'm still half asleep and as I look around me a sharp pain cuts in my neck, passing through my body like an electrical shock. Then I realise I'm still in my car and it's heavily raining outside. Oh God, I must've passed out.   The fingers of my right hand are numb, still holding tight the bottle of whiskey. I shake the tinted heavy glass only to find out I completely dried it up. Hell, I'll become an alcoholic if I continue like this.   I tap my both pockets in searching for my phone, then realise I must've forgotten it at home, so I check the time on the car panel. 3:25 AM, great.    I decide to leave before the road gets all muddy and hardly passable, so I start the engine and leave. I can barely see anything, as the sky is falling and I'm too drunk to even function. Oh, how much I'll hate myself in the m

It's been three days now since my disaster of a morning with Abigail. And thinking now of it, it looks like the saying "the calm before the storm" works just perfectly for me. In every aspect of my life.   As for me, I spent the past three days trying to avoid Abigail. Not because I'm afraid of her threatening to ban me from coming to Miami, but because I decided to respect her will to keep her distance from me. No matter how hard it is for me.   I go to the cafe? First ask if she's there. The restaurant? Same thing. I even make sure to not meet her somewhere in the hallways or the spa. And for three days I learned a lot about her. I learned she goes to drink coffee at 8:30 AM sharp. Every morning. Then she's having breakfast from 10 to 11 AM. Spends an hour for the daily instruction of the staff and then disappears somewhere from 12 to 1 PM. She wants her bedsheets to be changed during the hour when she's gone and in the afternoons she usua