SHE (Book #1)

17

***Malachi POV****

Life is getting a little too stressful these past couple of days. My father has left everything on me since he and Mr.Moore had a flight to Italy. I have been working in his place, getting his work done, managing his employees. 

I didn't even get a chance to prepare myself. It's a good thing his assistant knows what he is doing because this company would have fallen apart if I was all alone.

Not to mention the situation with Tempest.
God, she is so stubborn. hardheaded. strangely adorable in a sense.

Sometimes I don't know if I am lying to her when I tell her I am into her. It didn't take me long to think about it. She is everything and nothing at the same time. One second I know her, I can see how she is feeling, but the next second, I am lost. 

I am so lost.
But why? Why is she so hard to figure out? Why doesn't she care? Why is she so closed off?
This whole time I have been focusing on trying to win her over, but I haven't thought about why she is the way she is. What has she gone through? What was her life like before coming to live with her grandfather?

Oh, God.
Her mother had died.
Her mother died and she doesn't even show the slightest bit of emotion. She doesn't talk about it, doesn't mope about it, doesn't take time to dwell on it.
Whatever happened to her father?
Is he dead too?

Is she an orphan?
Why haven't I done my research on her? Why hasn't anyone done their research on her? We all just gladly accepted a random woman to be an heiress of an organization that has been here for years.

I twirl the glass of heavy liquor in my hands. My apartment is now dimly lit with the lamp on the other side of the living room. I have sat here for hours, it seems. Sometimes I get lost in my own mind and lose track of time. 

There are many things I should be doing instead of getting intoxicated, but I find peace in the art of alcoholism. There is nothing better than drinking your problems away.

My father used to do that. 
He used to drink the most horrendous and nastiest liquor on earth, and I always wondered what was troubling him so much to numb his taste buds. I also remember the time he threw a glass at me when I asked him if he was okay. He told me I was the cause of all his problems. I was always the cause of his problems.

Then there is my mother.
She would come in to hold him in her arms, tell him it's not my fault. I never knew what problem I caused at the time. I was never aware of anything happening.
But I saw the way he changed whenever my mother was around. He was a completely different man. More gentle. more humane.

She is sick. My mother is sick. A few months after giving birth to me, she had a sudden heart attack. The doctors said she had an underlying heart disease, which was hereditary in her side of the family. Then, she found out she can no longer have children. She was devastated. She had dreams to be a mother of many children, yet it was taken from her.

My father blames me.
Because everything happened after I was born.
As if I had any control over anything.

That's why he torments me, talks down to me, hurls insults at me, and sometimes even throws a punch or two. Because he loves her so much, he can't stand to see me. He can't stand to think of me as his own child.

I blame myself too.
Sometimes, she looks so exhausted with the medications she takes. She looks like she cries every day. The health bills were rising. My dad was struggling to pay them all.

He gambled. a lot.
There were many gains, but many losses.
We were struggling.

Until Mr. Moore came into our lives.
Until my dad decided to risk everything, for her.
He rather is involved in criminal activities than lose her because he didn't have enough money. 
I envied him. For loving so hard and so much. I envy him every day for being able to feel an immense emotion of compassion towards someone while making me feel unloved. while taking my ability to ever feel good enough for someone away.