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My lip is quivering, tears threatening my eyes. I go to speak, but before I can, my father continues.

“You know what the fucked up part is, Evelyn? He showed up here this morning. He had the audacity to walk into my house and demand to see my daughter, the same daughter who has never once mentioned him. We found out about him from Astra. She said she thought you were messing with a dangerous man. By the looks of the wounds on you, I’d say she was right.”

The tears are steadily falling of their own accord. I can’t speak. I didn’t think about telling my parents. I knew they would disapprove. Now they see me for what I am.

“You have two choices. You can leave him, or you can pack your bags. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you sure as Hell aren’t the daughter I have raised for 21 years.” He goes to leave the room, and my mother doesn’t spare me a glance. They are disappointed in me. I can’t say I blame them. All I wanted was to feel alive.

* * *

It’s now midnight and I have packed three suitcases. I’ll have to come back for the rest. They gave me two choices, but a part of me doesn’t want to let him go… I can’t. He silences my inner turmoil.

I hover over the hotel phone number on my phone.Don’t go there. Call him. He will save you. He always does.

I quickly swipe to Dante’s number and press the call button.

“Hello.” His tone is dull.

I go to speak, but I pause. Not wanting to admit the truth. I have no one.

“Evelyn, are you in trouble?” His tone has shifted to concern.

My heart melts at his protectiveness.

“Y-yes. I…..I need somewhere to stay…”

“I’ll be right over.”

“No… I can drive.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll leave the gate open.”

I carry my bags down the stairs and out the front door. My family might hate me for who I have become. They just loved the fake me. The me that pretended to be okay. I was never OK. This is always the life I wanted: the excitement, the pain, the obsession.

I just hid my demons for too long. Now the Devil has welcomed them with open arms.

I start driving and leave all of my problems behind me. What’s the point in denying who I am?

* * *

I arrive at Dante’s house, and he waits for me on the front staircase. He wears no shirt, showcasing his tattoos that snake up his chest and neck. His pants are sitting low on his hips. He looks immaculate.

I park my car and get out to grab my bags. He grabs my arm, spinning me around. His touch is soft and comforting.

He trails his fingers lightly over his name, and he tilts his head. His gaze travels up to my face.

“Are you okay?”

I nod my head, lips shaking as I start to cry.You’re not okay. He pulls me into him and wraps his arms around me. His embrace is warm. He smells like whiskey and mint, with a hint of fire. He lets me sob into his chest as he strokes my hair.

We break apart, and he grabs my bags, carrying them inside.

We stand in the foyer, a fire burning bright in the stone fireplace. The song “Time is running out” by Muse plays throughout the space.

He grabs a glass of wine from the island and brings it to me, giving me a relaxed smile.