❁ Sometimes people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them. ❁

I think I kinda overreacted, like yeah the whole itching powder thing was so cheap of him but he is the one who took me to the hospital, keeping all his hatred and ego aside, he saved my life.

I still owe him a thanks.

Anyways, it's almost 6 in the evening and I just hope Josie is not home. I don't have the courage to lie to her and definitely not the courage to tell her that I stopped taking my medicines because I was broke and then face her Annabelle mode.

I step inside the apartment not before sneaking if the track is clear, luckily it is. Now I'm directly going to my room and crash out, such a great way to avoid her.

I turn to close the door and as I turn back to quickly rush to my room, my gaze catches a flying pillow coming in my direction with not so very good intentions. It hits directly on my face without giving me a chance to flinch.

Confession No. 22 - I have got really bad reflexes.

" Ow so you know, how? " I question while rubbing my forehead and holding the pillow which was about to break my head.

How stupid of me to think she wouldn't know. I'm sure she was a spy in her previous life.

" I called you this afternoon, and some guy picked it up and told me everything, he said it was just a rise in BP but I'm not a fool. " Josie explains more like scolds.

Of course you're not.

" Why did you stop taking your medicines? " she questions which I must answer honestly because she's giving me her Annabelle glares.

" Because I did not have the money. " I mutter as I lean my back on the couch and squeeze Mr. Henry with my arms, pretending it's not much of a deal.

" Seriously! But you told me you have enough money for medicines. " she raises her eyebrow and snatches Mr. Henry, leaving me with a whiny face.

" Yup, I had money but then I saw those amazing pair of shoes in a store and... " I lie and she cuts me off " Shut up! You gave it to the church when you volunteered there last time. " and apparently get caught.

" So what, those kids need money! " I concede.

It's the least I could do for those orphan kids. I know that the amount I donated was negligible to their needs. Maybe it's my guilt or something but I really wanted to do something for them.

" And what about you huh? Don't you need money? I can't believe I'm a doctor and my bestfriend-- " I cut her off " You're not licensed yet! "

" Oh shut up I'm a third year resident, I'll get licensed in few months but that's not the matter, the matter is why didn't you tell me? " her voice sounds a perfect combination of anger and concern.

" What could you possibly do huh? Lend me money? I can't take that! " I snap accepting the fact that I can't keep silent and pretend to be fine anymore.

" But why? " she asks.

" Because I don't know if I would be alive tomorrow to pay you back. " I admit trying my best to not shed the tear which is about to break free.

" And that's what you think of me, I care about money over you! " she whines.

" No! I know that your heart is much bigger than my misery and it's not because of you. It's for me, I don't wanna die under debts. " I gasp while the tear sheds.

" You're not dying okay, we'll figure out a way. " she moans and comes towards me wrapping me in her arms.

" Stop comforting me with this lie Josie, it's been 2 years and 6 months. I know how all this works, but trust me I'm prepared for the end, if this would be my last night and I wouldn't get to see tomorrow, I'm prepared. " I pull away, wipe my tears, rush toward my room and lock myself in it.

Wiping my tears I grab a pen and my unfinished book that I write when I get free time. I settle myself on the seat beside the window. Where I usually sit to admire the moon and it's flaws, with a book in my hand. The only thing that keeps me sane and distracted when I'm on my edge to have a breakdown.

I used to write diary as a kid, however, I don't do it anymore. What's the point writing it? So that whenever you try to re-read it, you will realize your life have always been miserable and will continue to be.

Writing a book is the best way to let out my feelings and emotions at moments. I can build my own characters, make them feel what I feel, create my own hypothetical situations, and give them the life I wanted for myself.

I make my characters happy, cheerful and full of good vibes and positivity. Although it doesn't mean they don't have problems, they do. But they confront them with the best and bravest way possible, unlike me. And eventually I get so lost in solving my characters' problems that I forget about my own.

It's like a partial escapement from my sucky life.

When I said I'm prepared, I didn't mean I don't want to live anymore. Of course I do. In fact, if I go through all my memories, this is the phase I really wanna live. It's just that I'm so tired of being afraid of death that I'm no longer afraid of death.

I open the door of my house and the first thing I do is to throw everything that was lying peacefully on the hall centre table before I entered.

The Great, I'm The Great Hans Nicholas Anderson, who is good for seriously nothing!

Two years back that girl destroyed my life, spat right on my face and ran away and today how did I take my vengeance?

By saving her life!

I had everything I ever wanted in that moment. She was dying right in front of me, in my arms, and instead of choking her throat I took her to the hospital.

And instead of thanking me, she called me a dick!

What a bitch!

I kick the sofa chair upside down, and pull my hairs in anger. I can feel the warmth in my blood as I take deep breathes.

I lost my father because of that girl, I lost my mother because of her, I lost... I lost my child because of her and I still saved her life. I saved the woman who aborted my child .

My head is about to burst. I decide to go to my room, have a hot shower and stop thinking about everything happened today.

I walk inside my bedroom upstairs. Sitting on my bed, I close both my eyes and take deep breathes. My Anger control therapist says that deep breathes works the best to calm one's wrath.

Nothing fucking works!

I rip the pillows, that were lying on the bed, and let the feathers fall all over the room. I walk over the feathers to the shelf beside my mirror to find my sleeping pills when my eyes fall upon the man in the mirror.

He looks angry, insane, his eyes reflects sparkling blood red instead of blue. His hairs are messed up but most of all, he looks broken, his eyelashes are wet.

Why am I crying?

No, that can not be Hans Nicholas Anderson, the CEO of Anderson Enterprises. I was never like this. I always had anger issues but I never cried, not for a slut. I'm the one who used to be the player, how could a girl dare to play with my life.

" No that is not Hans! " I scream throwing my hand on the mirror making it break into uncountable pieces, and maybe a few penetrated inside my skin but all I can feel right now is the anger and wrath that is burning like fire inside of me.

Look at you Hans! What has she done to you while she must have found it hilarious. The thought of how worried you were must be cracking her up.

But Hans think about it, death is a very easy punishment for her, isn't it? She deserves a long life full of pain and sufferings.

And I will gladly make it my cause.

" Today I swear on the name of Holy Christ, no matter what. I'll keep her safe. I will keep her alive! " I scream in lonesome while crouching my knees down to the floor. Beside the broken mirror pieces reflecting my image.

Letting all the hurt and pain vent out through tears, I sob for the last time remembering all the flashbacks, because it's time for her to cry.

❤❤❤