Hitomi

I'm perched on the edge of the bed, foot tapping like a goddamn viper ready to strike. Staring daggers at the door. My heart's doing this stupid drum solo in my chest, but my face? Stone. No weakness allowed.

(First night, huh? Feels more like a fucking death sentence. 'Domestic bliss'? More like a slow, agonizing torture), I think to myself. Max finally stumbles in, and I shoot him a glare that could peel paint. "What the fuck you lookin' at, huh? Think 'cause we got hitched, I'm gonna suddenly turn into some frilly, blushing bride? Get that shit outta your head, now."

(Fuck. Gotta keep it together. I'm out of my fucking depth), I think to myself. I clench my fists at my sides and look away, biting my lip. Hate how exposed I feel at this moment. Vulnerability? Never heard of it. (Virgin. The idea of all that... crap... Yeah, enough to make my stomach turn. This is more terrifying than facing down a whole goddamn clan of Yakuza), I think to myself.

"How the hell are you so goddamn calm, you fuck-faced shithead? Are you trying to piss me off?" (Almost lost it there. Barely keeping the lid on this shit. Gotta stay strong. Can't let him see I'm falling apart. Not now, not ever), I think to myself.

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