Seeking Solace: Angelina's Restoration (Love in the Dark Book 2)

by Chelsea Camaron

  I had wanted this man from the moment I realized what men and women were really meant to do together. It was everything I had ever imagined it to be and then some. He turned something once so bad and horrifying into something almost magical. Love filled me, passion burned from inside me, and I couldn’t let go as I craved more and more. This was a high I felt like I could die from if it crashed down around me.

  He thrust into me, grunting as my body instinctively milked him. His arm supported his weight as his free hand tweaked my hard nipple.

  Needing to hold him close, I wrapped my legs around him and kept him locked to me with only enough room to slide in and out of my tight, wet heat. With each move of his shaft, I felt fuller and fuller as my orgasm continued to climb once again.

  “Geee-aaaaaahhhhh-nnnnoooo,” I cried out hoarsely, never wanting it to end.

  He pounded into me a few more times before he stilled, and warm liquid filled me.

  “I love you.”

  Jolting awake I sat up in the bed, “I LOVE YOU!” I screamed the words so loudly my throat hurt from the strain.

  “I loved you, I love you, I love you.” I repeated the words over and over until I was out of breath.

  “Why didn’t you stay?” The tears fell down my face in steady streams. “Why do I lose everyone good? Why can’t I have love, family? Why do I have to be alone?”

  I let the pain, the anger, the loss all consume me. I let myself feel it all, drown in every bad thought. My body trembled, my heart beat painfully in my chest, everything spun out of control. I broke out in a cold sweat.

  The loss weighed me down like an anchor holding a ship in place, I was rooted in the bed stuck in my memory.

  The most important moment of my life has now become my worst nightmare. Who has karma like that? Life was against me. Love was always beyond my grasp.

  When every ounce of energy seemed to drain from my body, I lifted from the bed and went to the bathroom. In the mirror, I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. My eyes were swollen, puffy, and bloodshot. My cheeks were sunken in. My hair hung drably down looking stringy and lackluster.

  I turned to the shower.

  For a moment, I thought back to this very shower so long ago.

  Did my stranger need release?

  Slowly, timidly, I uncurled and moved to him. My stomach twisted as anxiety filled me, and trepidation once again washed over me. I had never been in this situation before. I didn’t know what I should do.

  I placed my shaking hand over his wrist, tugging at him to gain his attention. He looked up at me, his exhaustion showing. I traced my finger down his forearm as my body tightened in fear. I didn’t know what else to do for him. He could have killed me, yet he hadn’t.

  I was suddenly tossed backward to the ground as he jumped up from his seat as if my touch had burned him. Confusion ran through me as fear overtook my body and adrenaline kicked in.

  “Don’t!” he barked at me as he towered over me. “Don’t touch me! That’s not what you’re here for!” he roared as he stomped out of the room, leaving me once again to my solitude.

  Tears ran down my face.

  Feeling confused and dirty, I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower, not paying attention as I discarded my clothing. He didn’t want me and I had done wrong. The fabric left my body in swift movements.

  No, her clothing. It wasn’t my own, they were Angelina’s clothes. I had nothing of my own anymore. Was one hell any better than the next? My destiny was my eternity, wrapped in darkness. Crazy questions continued on in my mind as I let the water spray harshly against the tiled walls.

  Stepping into the shower, I wanted to cry out in pain. The water scalded my skin as the steam filled my lungs, and the small room spun. I didn’t move. I let each drop prick and burn my body while I silently wished for it to burn away the memories of my existence. I didn’t allow myself to think of turning it down or stepping out. Like everything else in my life, I didn’t allow myself to escape.

  I was dizzy. I was lost. I was drowning in a sea of uncertainty and filth. Still, I didn’t move.

  There was a noise on the other side of the shower curtain, but I was stuck in place. The pain became real as I looked to my now reddened arms. Then the rings scraped against the metal pole of the shower curtain rod, and I gasped in surprise when my stranger suddenly was standing in front of me, wrapping me in a towel while yanking me harshly out of the spray of water.

  “You can’t do this!”

  We were riddled and tainted with miscommunications. He thought I was intentionally using the shower to hurt myself after his rejection, but in reality I was just lost.

  Completely lost.

  Like now, without Giano.

  I didn’t know how to cope back then and I don’t know how to now. I only wanted to give him happiness.

  Turning on the shower to as hot as I could get it, I stepped under the spray. In seconds, I was soaked. My clothes quickly saturated and clung to my body. The heat scalded my skin, but I didn’t waver. I let the weight hold me in place.

  Held down.

  Stuck.

  Frozen in place.

  I physically couldn’t move because my emotions were too heavy.

  That’s when I realized what the future held for me.

  Angelina Nylene Diamante.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Name.

  The paperwork in front of me taunted me.

  I had made the decision under the hot spray of water. Only when the shower ran cold did I emerge. Stepping out, I knew what I had to do. What Giano would want me to do.

  I called Alanzo.

  He encouraged me and set up the appointment today.

  It felt rushed.

  It was all too soon.

  Except, I had this hard lesson in life where time was never on my side.

  Things didn’t happen when I wanted them to or how I desired so I had to once again take the hits life threw me.

  With my hands trembling I filled out sealing my future as Angelina Diamante. Signing this gave me access to all of Giano’s money, insurance, stocks, and entitled me to everything.

  Alanzo sat beside me in the second leather chair that was placed across from the oversized attorney’s desk.

  The air in the room was chilly. The furniture was all done in deep cherry wood and the dark walls gave the room a powerful feel. Then again, maybe it was just in the air. This room I was sure had been used to sign many divorce papers, many wills, and many inheritance papers like now. All of them tied to an ending of some sort.

  Ending.

  Giano’s life ended.

  I had to accept it.

  Even now, it didn’t feel real, but I knew it was.

  Signing these papers was nothing more than another reminder of what I lost not what I was gaining.

  “Where to next?” The attorney who Alanzo gave me his name but I didn’t listen asked.

  His name didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but signing the paperwork so I could have my affairs in order and get out of here.

  “College,” I managed to mutter.

  “Locally or away?”

  “Time will tell,” Alanzo cut him off causing me to turn and look at him. He gave the slightest nod of his head. His face remained stoic, giving nothing away.

  I took the hint. In moments we were leaving and I had everything in order.

  “Never tell anyone your plans. Don’t allow anyone a chance to get a lock on you,” Alanzo instructed as he opened the car door for me.

  Now I knew why he cut me off about school. Always protecting me, that was Uncle Zozo.

  The attorney would file everything and I now had a house, three cars, and a boat I didn’t know about along with four life insurance policies, and the money in the bank.

  I was set for life.

  I didn’t have to go to school.

  I could live off what was left to me.

  Except I didn’t want that.

  Losing everything ov
er and over again had taught me one thing: do not rely on anyone else to take care of me ever again.

  With every passing day, I realized I needed help.

  Emotional help.

  Mentally I had crashed.

  Except I couldn’t go to therapy. No one could know my truth. Alanzo had made it clear the world Giano was tied to and who my parents really were put a target on my back.

  The only way I could recover my mental stability was to teach myself.

  With that decided, Alanzo and I spent the week figuring out the best schools for me to study psychology. He listened to all of my thoughts and gave me opinions of his own. In the end, we came up with a plan that had a long-term safety net for me.

  Money.

  It was funny to learn the things it could buy me. Like an acceptance to a collage in Oregon that had no openings.

  The West Coast would show Giano’s associates that I was truly out of the picture. It solidified my move to be apart from the life he led. This would keep me secure and able to focus on my studies. Alanzo didn’t feel I was in any danger. For the most part, Giano had very few true enemies. The ones he did have he gained by refusing to work for them not because he crossed anyone. This meant that any allies would rally behind protecting me should the need arise.

  Somehow, I didn’t find this comforting.

  I also wasn’t afraid.

  I was simply numb.

  So what if an enemy took me out. What life did I really have left to lead? I would be the easiest kill for anyone because my will to live was ultimately gone. Who would even notice I was gone? Only Alanzo and he would never say anything. He couldn’t. No, I was only existing to honor Giano.

  It took some time going over things, but I had a plan. With Uncle Zozo the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. I was going to move and have a fresh start.

  One I was in control of.

  **

  Seven Months Later

  Waking up, I felt the same longing I had since getting here. It wasn’t home.

  But home wasn’t home without Giano so this was a feeling I knew I would have anywhere I went. While I wished with everything that I could not be so lost, that I could find passion for something again, I simply couldn’t.

  Oregon was peaceful, though.

  The air was clean. The people I had encountered were nice. Going to school in Portland I had some hustle and bustle, but driving outside of town, I had an apartment that was cozy. I lived the college life where everything was about classes, projects, and exams.

  The same stir-crazy feeling I dealt with every morning since burying Giano washed over me. Getting out of bed, I dressed quickly and put on my running shoes.

  Running.

  It was my calm in the storm.

  The pavement moved under my body. Step-by-step, my feet pushed me forward. This was how my life worked. Keep moving forward, against all odds.

  The direction I went didn’t matter, it was the fact that I was moving. I was headed somewhere, even if I didn’t always know where that here was specifically.

  For me, running was a release. Once I started, I continued on, taking in every step, every foot, every mile. It was the return that got me every time. I knew what awaited me at home.

  Nothing.

  Emptiness.

  Void.

  Quiet.

  Solitude.

  This was my reprieve from the walls closing in. The open air, the rock beneath me, and pushing my body to keep on. I always hesitated when it came time to go home. I struggled with the word, the thoughts, and the space. Running was always easy to keep going when I was going anywhere but the empty space I resided.

  By the time I got back, showered, changed, and headed to school, I was late. This was not uncommon. Last semester, I ended up dropping my first period class because I needed to run or my day was a mess. I thought I scheduled this class late enough to get my run in before I had to be here. Apparently, I was wrong. This was not a good start to my second semester.

  Rushing to campus and into the History class, I was a mess of books, my bag, and my mind.

  “You must be Ms. Diamante,” the professor announced upon my scurried entrance.

  I nodded.

  “Seeing as it’s the first day of the new semester, it isn’t often students miss roll call … at least today. Take your seat,” he ordered and I struggled to get settled. “Let’s not be so disruptive, shall we.”

  The pompous ass began his lecture on the syllabus for the quarter. Truthfully, I didn’t care. This was a wasted class to me. There was nothing for me to learn from history other than the millions of mistakes that had been made by leaders over time only creating more discord in humanity.

  I was being harsh, judging him, and considering him an arrogant ass based on a brief two-minute interaction. However, I found it more disrupting to his class for him to call me out rather than to continue on.

  For in theatre, the show must go on, why did professors not subscribe to this same philosophy.

  His hazel eyes bore into mine as he lectured on and on about the expectations of the materials covered, projects due, and deadlines that would under no circumstance be moved.

  It was the same damn speech they all gave.

  Except Mr. Patrick gave off the domineering attitude that somehow made his words sink in deeper. I didn’t want to challenge him or fail to meet his expectations.

  It made me think.

  I didn’t often have any kind of reaction to anyone. Typically, I wasn’t concerned with satisfying anyone else’s demands of me. I had lost everything so I had nothing left to lose. This man though, he struck a chord inside of me. One that had been silent since Giano’s death. It was an uncomfortable feeling to have this reaction to him.

  Funny the human psyche. The totality of one’s mind, both subconsciously and consciously and the reactions we had to others. It was strange.

  For everyone was wired differently.

  Something about his baritone and pitch changes for emphasis had my ears alert to his every word, but not comprehending them.

  The rest of the lecture hall left my mental space as I seemed entranced by his command of the room.

  Mr. Patrick, Shawn Patrick, was a new professor to the school having only relocated here from New Jersey during the fall semester, same as me. It was in the biography sheet he included with his syllabus. What the paper didn’t say was how captivating his demeanor was. He truly commanded the room. He had dark hair and hazel eyes. His build was bulky, but from the form of his neck it was muscle and not fat.

  With the way he carried himself, he didn’t seem to be a man of overindulgence, but rather one in complete control.

  Control.

  I craved it. My entire childhood was spent completely out of my control. So now, I fought for it.

  Mr. Patrick was in command of the room, complete, confident control.

  He didn’t smile, he didn’t carry on, he stated what he felt was important to our class and moved on.

  Precise.

  To the point.

  He didn’t mince words or waste them. He was clear.

  I found it … no him … attractive.

  My palms were sweating as my heart beat irregularly. I wasn’t sure if I was having a panic attack or thoroughly engaged in his trance. This was unfamiliar to me as no one stood out to me, male or female, since my arrival in Oregon. In fact, this was the first moment outside of running where my heart has even raced.

  Attraction was a funny thing like that.

  I felt my foot turn inward slightly and forced it back to the straight position.

  Body language. I had studied much about it over the summer with nothing to do but read. When a woman was attracted to a man, subconsciously we turned one foot slightly inward. It was something one had to truly pay attention to in order to notice.

  Well, Alanzo had warned me to never give any cues to anyone about anything. I was closed off to the world and to my emotions.

  For
this was how my life had to be without Giano.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Some habits die hard.

  Getting lost in my morning run was a new habit and one I couldn’t shake or break. I knew I was out of control, but I didn’t know what to do with my emotions. I couldn’t run from them but I certainly couldn’t hide way holed up drowning in the dark recesses of my mind. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, or how to channel everything I felt.

  I was angry.

  I was sad.

  I was filled with guilt.

  I was everything damaged.

  Being late was just another fuck up in the list of how messed up my life had become. Although, I guess I shouldn’t consider running a habit as much as a failed coping mechanism. I used running to work out my emotions like a therapy of sorts, it probably wasn’t the best thing, but I was out of options. I failed to be successful in healing because I didn’t know how to stop. I would push my body until I couldn’t anymore than and only then would I return home. This meant I constantly lost track of time.

  For the mind was a war zone, at least for me. My emotions were at battle between grief and elation. I obviously grieved for Giano. I found small happiness in the fact that I was indeed getting by.

  Who could say they were given a second chance like me? Who could say that in that second chance came a third that left endless possibilities for the future? Some people would give anything for this clean slate, new start, but not me.

  I had to be broken, unrepairable not to find some happiness in the gifts Giano had left me. I wasn’t so ungrateful as to have zero appreciation.

  It was just tangled up in my grief.

  The loss took over every other emotion I could feel. In everything, every day, I pictured him. I pictured the life I could have had with him if I hadn’t crossed the line.

  It wasn’t like Giano wouldn’t have sent me to college.

  I only wished he was here. The money, the lifestyle, the education, I would give it all up to have him back.

  In this time and distance apart from his home, I had come to terms with things. A line had truly been crossed. One that we could not uncross.

  Now, I had to learn to deal with and accept the consequences for those actions.