The Mafia And His Angel, Part 3 by Lylah James

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

Ayla

 

I hate him.

The man with those beautiful blue eyes, I hated him.

I hated that he made me feel. I hated that his touch made me feel.

I wanted to go back to being numb, but he was persistent, never leaving me alone.

Alessio.

That was his name. My savior. But he was no longer my savior. I didn’t want him to be.

I wanted him to go away. I wanted to go back to not feeling anything.

I had fought it for so long. I fought him for so long. His voice, his touch, his gentle kisses, his soft blue eyes. I fought to stay numb.

But every day, it became harder.

I still wondered, though. Is it all dream?

Nothing made sense.

Everything was blurry. Everything hurt.

The Devil was no longer here. The Devil wasn’t hurting me anymore.

Only he was there. Alessio.

Whether my eyes were open or closed, he was there. He just wouldn’t leave me alone.

Sometimes, I didn’t know how to feel.

I used to hope for my savior to come. But was he real? Or was this the Devil’s trick?

Alessio’s touch didn’t hurt me. Not like the Devil’s.

No, his touch soothed me. When everything hurt, he soothed me.

He would hold me tight and whisper in my ears. Like he was doing now.

I closed my eyes and refused to listen to him. I didn’t want to hear his voice. His voice brought back memories.

Sometimes good. Sometimes painful. Everything was painful.

Even the good memories. But they didn’t make sense. I was always happy. And in those memories, Alessio was always there.

I hated him. I hated him so much.

I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want him to whisper in my ears.

I wanted to scream.

But I couldn’t seem to find my voice. The Devil hated when I talked. So I stayed silent.

Even when Alessio talked endlessly and begged me to speak, I couldn’t. I didn’t. With my silence, I hoped he would go away.

“Angel, talk to me.”

His voice was both soothing and painful.

I dreamed of you before you came into my life. When I was a little boy, I dreamed of you. Black hair and green eyes, with a beautiful smile. My Angel.

I closed my eyes tightly against the flash of memories. I felt my chest tighten. Every time he spoke, he brought back memories.

I didn’t know if they were real. The piano, the flowers, or even that beautiful river.

He even called me Angel. Just like in my dreams.

My throat closed up, and I opened my eyes. I stared in his blue eyes. I always found myself lost in them.

He had those same blue eyes, just like I dreamed of. He really was my savior.

“Will you play for me, please?” He sounded like he was begging.

Do you want to play?

You can keep playing the piano if you want.

Have I done this before?

“I want to dance with you, Angel. I want to see you smile like before. I still remember that day. You were so happy, smiling and laughing. I can still hear your beautiful laughter as I twirl you around.”

May I have this dance, Angel?

I heard his voice in my head, although I knew he didn’t say them now.

There it was. Another memory that made it hard to breathe.

I felt his lips on my forehead. “I want to see you like that again.”

I closed my eyes against his words. His arms tightened around my waist.

“Look at me, Angel. C’mon, give me those beautiful green eyes.”

Ayla, look at me.

You know I’m not letting you go until you give me what I want.

Don’t ever look away from me again.

My eyes snapped open, and I saw Alessio smile.

His voice was in my head again.

“There you are.” He bent his head until our noses touched. “Don’t ever look away from me again.”

My heart stuttered. Those words—it was another memory. He hated when I looked away from him.

So many emotions crowding inside of me. I was going crazy. Nothing made sense. I was so lost.

But I didn’t want to be lost anymore.

Alessio brought his hand up, his finger touching my cheek. His touch was gentle, the opposite of the Devil’s.

“I’m going to change and then we’ll sleep. Okay?”

He got up, and I closed my eyes again.

You are more beautiful with your hair down.

I opened my eyes again when I heard Alessio. Our eyes made contact. He had called me beautiful.

My skin felt warm, and I felt a strange sensation in my heart. My stomach tightened.

I saw him removing his shirt. He was only in grey pants.

I usually sleep naked, but I thought you wouldn’t be comfortable with that. I can accommodate you with the sweatpants, but I hate sleeping in shirts.

His voice rang in my ears as he walked toward me. I saw him limping a little, his legs dragging behind him.

I felt a sudden surge of emotion. Just like before, when I had seen him hurt.

When I had spoken.

You are hurt.

Seeing him hurt made it painful for me. It reminded me of when I was hurt.

It reminded me of when I wanted someone to comfort me. When I wanted someone to speak to me, to make me feel better.

So I spoke.

And then I realized my mistake.

I had let him win.

After fighting so long to not feel, I had let myself feel.

Feeling made everything hurt. It hurt so much.

I wish I was back there. With the Devil.

Because then, I was numb. That was much better. Nothing hurt. The memories weren’t painful because I didn’t have any memories.

I wanted it to stay that way.

I didn’t want to hurt. Not anymore.

I turned away from Alessio. He only held me, his arm around my hips, his palm over my stomach.

He rubbed my belly gently. “Settle down now, little fighter.”

Protect my baby. No matter what. I have to protect my baby.

I heard the words in my head. Closing my eyes, I breathed.

The voice in my head belonged to me. I didn’t understand what the words meant; all I knew was that I had to protect someone.

Even when I was with the Devil, I protected the baby. Even when I didn’t understand myself, I never let him touch my stomach. My actions were done unconsciously. Like it was drilled in my head.

“Sleep, Angel. I will watch over you.”

Sleep, Angel. I will watch over you.

I hated him. I hated his voice. I hated the memories he brought.

But I also hated that I wanted those memories.

Even though I hated it all, deep inside, I lived for those tiny glimpses of my past.