The Story of Blood and Roses-Chapter 181 Bump Into an Old Lover

After paying the disdainful cashier the amount I owed him, I sauntered out of the store, hoping that I did not miss a step. I stood on the sidewalk and tried to get my bearings right. I had no clue where I was, and the pain made no effort to decrease any time soon. I plopped down onto the floor, keeping my back against a wall and hoping that the medicine works.

The pain did somewhat decrease, but not enough for me to find the strength to drag my body home. So, I sat there, watching weary people walk past me. At a distance, I found the source of my paranoia. At first, it was just a silhouette as the man was facing away from the lights on the street, but the form was familiar. There was no way in hell I could make a mistake in recognizing that body.

A flash of irritation overcame me, filling me with a strength I did not know I possessed. I pushed off the sidewalk, sneered at the shadowy figure and then tried to walk back home as fast as it was possible.

.

Daisy was waiting for me when I returned. She was worried and looked me over when I entered the room.

"What took you so long?" she asked.

"I bumped into an old lover," I replied blandly. Her brows scrunched together in confusion. I waited for the realization to dawn on her. It took quite a while.

"Anthony was there?" I nodded, heading towards the small kitchen, hoping to find something to eat. I had grown quite hungry after the painful cramping.

"Yeah, he went ape-shit when he saw me on the target's lap. Killed the man like the possessive bastard he is," I snorted.

"So, you basically had to do nothing to kill the man?"

"Except escape," I told her as I plopped down beside her on the couch. "The people thought that I killed Armando, as I should have."

"And he did nothing?" she asked, confused.

"Of course not. He is not stupid or idealistic. He would never defend me. You know this. The bastard wouldn't do it for his own mother." It seemed a little too harsh, but to me, at that moment, nothing was truer.

"I don't get why he didn't try to follow you." The suspicion was clear in her voice.

"Maybe he doesn't care," I shrugged.

"And maybe you are lying." I chuckled as I took a bite of my sandwich.

"I am," I confirmed. "Don't know how he kept up with me, though. The fucker is good, that is all I can say."

"You are using rather colorful language today," she commented. "Did something else happen? Something more stimulating?"

"I might have had an attack, again," my voice was lower than I intended it to be. I had no intention of letting her know. "I slowed down a bit, I think that is why he could catch up to me," I reasoned, trying to change the subject.

"And you did not tell me as soon as you entered the room?" her voice rose to an unpleasant scream. It was not often one heard Daisy scream, but when they did, they hoped that they would never be near her again. She had an ugly scream; it hurt one's ears and made their ears bleed. Sometimes I thought that she did it on purpose to torture people and take out her anger on them.

"If they start again, you will need to get back to the doctor, Marie. You can't compromise with your health like this. And the man, he is no good for you!" Exasperated, I sighed.

"It wasn't much," I groaned. "Don't spoil my mood." I was not in a good mood, but I didn't want to murder Anthony Murray with my own hands at the moment.

"So, he caught up to you," she asked heatedly. "What did he do?"

"He just kept a distance and watched me convulse in pain," I said simply. She raised a brow. "I don't think he followed me to the apartment. I checked. And there is no way he can enter the place."

"Have you ever considered the possibility that you want him to follow you?" she said suddenly. I stopped eating, my jaw clenching, ready to burst out and rain my wrath down on her. But she didn't give me the time to react.

"You walked. I know you did. You could have easily changed your plans with one phone call, but you chose to walk despite meeting Anthony suddenly. He killed a man because he put a hand on you: a hand that you willingly let the man put on you. Did you think that he would not try to follow you or convince you to listen to him?" she scoffed, she had the courage to. I seethed. "You are not foolish, Mia. You know from experience that he is a cunning man, yet you took the chance and let him follow you. You just sat there while he kept tabs on you. If he needed to approach you in that moment, he would have, and it would have been wise of you to kill him before he got anywhere near you, but no, you did no such thing. You let him follow you again. You say that you think he didn't follow you, but there is a high chance that he did." She sucked in a breath. "I think that in some corner of your mind, you envisioned him bulldozing through that door, breaking through all the barriers we have placed to keep people out. I think you wanted him to see how much pain he has caused you—physically of course. You would never stand for anyone getting to know that you loved the man and that he hurt you by betraying you."

"Shut up."