Destroy Me Gently:Ex-Enemy Becomes My Lover!
Chapter 30: Restless Hearts

Chapter 30: Restless Hearts

Chapter thirty

**Kieran Morrison**

’You don’t really hate me...’

’You only need someone to share your grief...’

The words kept blaring and tearing down the last of my sanity. They just wouldn’t stop echoing in my head no matter how hard I tried to quiet them.

"Shut up!" I growled aloud to bring an end to it.

He had been fucking wrong! I hated him more than anything he could ever imagine. How dare he assume my feelings?

’Then why haven’t you really hurt me all these years?’ his soft whisper taunted my mind and a harsh heavy pants escaped my nostrils. I dug my nails tightly into my palms, threatening to pierce the skin until blood came. It was a minor distraction from the conflicted feelings which I didn’t want to recognize, but they kept simmering in my veins.

I needed something much stronger. I searched my drawer for a cigarette. A smoke was what I really needed right now.

Fuck. It was empty.

I searched frantically through my wardrobe. There must be some laying around somewhere. I was growing even more agitated with each passing second.

I found nothing.

An irritated growl rumbled from my throat as my gaze scanned around my room for the first time since I had walked inside. It was neatly arranged. She must have entered while I was gone.

Did she also touch my stuff? Was she responsible for my missing cigarettes?

The thought sent a sharp spike of anger through me. My irritation and annoyance were at their peak.

I just needed to shatter something.

I exited the room and hurried downstairs. I met her in the kitchen. She appeared to be searching the cupboard for something.

A smile curved on her lips the moment she spotted me standing by the doorway.

"Kieran, you’re bac—"

"How dare you enter my room and put your hands on my belongings!" I snapped, cutting off whatever she was about to say.

I approached her with a stone cold expression.

"Those things aren’t good for your health, Kieran. So I decided to get rid of them," she replied in a casual tone that made something in me snap.

A burst of bitter laughter escaped my mouth. Her words were the funniest thing I’d heard all day.

"Not good for my health? You don’t need to fucking pretend you care! Besides, if I die today it will serve you and Dad’s advantage perfectly. Then you can handle your businesses without a troubled son to remember!"

A look of hurt passed across her features. I knew it very well to be fake. I wondered why she even bothered. It wasn’t as though it would change anything.

"Don’t say such terrible things! I already lost a daughter. I won’t lose another child!" Her voice cracked slightly. "I’m still your mother, and I do care about you, even though you don’t believe that."

My fists clenched at the way she mentioned "another child."

Why was she so hypocritical and deceiving? I wasn’t blind all those years ago. She had never even for one day regarded Ginny as a daughter. She had only been adopted to fulfill their righteous and kind public image. This would be the first time I’d heard her mention Ginny after so many years.

It had been so long, I thought she had forgotten.

"Don’t fucking ever touch my things again!"

I turned to leave but stopped midway. I regarded her with a hostile gaze.

"And if in your head you somehow think you’re here because of me, you can go back to wherever the hell you came from. I don’t care!"

"Don’t talk to me in that tone! You need to show some respect. I still gave birth to you."

Why did she always mention that fact? It was a reality that I despised more than anything.

"I guess I have to be grateful about that. Thanks Mom. Satisfied now?" I taunted.

I turned around and stormed off without a backward glance. I could hear her voice calling after me to come back.

For what precisely?

The moment I stepped outside, I inhaled deeply, stuffing my lungs with much needed oxygen. Their presence was always so suffocating. Choking. Agonizing.

The few times they’d ever returned home were always spent in fights and arguments. That was until they decided I was too troublesome to be around.

This time shouldn’t be any different.

Hell. I just wanted to be fucking left alone. Why couldn’t they understand such a simple basic thing?

But even as I walked away, I could hear something in her voice that I’d never heard before. Something that sounded almost like... genuine pain.

No. I wouldn’t let myself think about that. She didn’t get to hurt now. She didn’t get to care now.

Not when it was too late.

Not when Ginny was already gone.

-

I banged loudly against the door. The moment it slid open, I shoved my way inside, not caring if Vince might have visitors.

He did some illegal jobs. It was common for some of his gang members to pay visits.

The house was empty. I guess it was my lucky day. Or so I thought.

"What are you doing here?" Vince asked as soon as I plunged myself onto the sofa. Where the hell did he appear from?

He regarded me with a curious look, but said nothing. He could always guess whenever there was something off with me.

"You have some beer?" I muttered under my breath. He left that instant, presumably to get my request.

He returned a moment later with two cans, one of which he threw in my direction.

"I think I’ll be crashing at your place for a few days," I stated, taking huge gulps.

Just like me, his father—who was my father’s brother—was never around. His mom had passed away a long time ago.

He was quite the loner. Almost exactly like me, only he didn’t have parents who upset and irritated the hell out of him.

"What happened?"

I raised a brow at his question. He had never bothered to ask before.

"Just the usual thing. Want to play a game?" I offered, trying to steer away from the topic. It was something I didn’t want to talk about, but he wasn’t having it.

"Don’t give me that. What the hell happened to you? Does it have something to do with your little obsession not appearing in school today?"

I glared hard at him.

"He’s not my obsession, and he’s not mine," I gritted out in agitation.

All he did was shrug.

"Right. And I never mentioned that it was a ’he.’"

I could make out the mocking glint in his gaze.

"Fucking stop talking, will you!" I groaned. I came here for some peace and quiet, to be away from everything.

I still had to stop myself from replaying Oliver’s earlier words and pondering just how much of it was true.

Because what if he was right? What if I didn’t really hate him?

What if all these years, I’d been using him as a target for pain that had nowhere else to go?