Page 4 of Misguided

“Is that what you do?” I bite. “Act like a fuckin’ god for them because it’s what they want?”

His eyes bore holes into mine, the anger evident despite the lack of light in the dark barn. “You know I don’t.”

“So don’t tell me to act all high and mighty if you can’t stomach it either.”

He sighs, pushing off the wall to rise and walk over to his gypsy girl. I slump in his spot watching as he approaches her slowly, treating her with caution. He’s not this way with many people, which shows how deeply he must care about her.

I can’t help but feel jaded seeing him so freely choose whoever he wants to be by his side. I thought I had the one, the guy who lit my days up and made me live, but it wasn’t to be.

The mentally unhinged son of a drug lord wasn’t Daddy’s first choice for me. And when the two of us refused to stop sneaking around behind his back, he packed Sawyer off to our northern brothers for safekeeping.

Right before he tried to play matchmaker and force me into a relationship with the man he thought would be more suited for the daughter of the president.

Not that it worked out. Having Sawyer, the only man who made me happy stolen away cemented the anger I felt towards my father, right until the bitter end.

Anger I sometimes recognize when I look at Hooch, knowing he felt the same struggle to be free as me. How can he know what it’s like to be constrained, held back and forced into someone else’s preconceived ideal of what you should be, and then so freely apply that same pressure to me?

Why can’t I be welcome to choose who I want, be who I want, and act how I want?

Is the real me, the girl inside, really that bad?