Regretting You (Blackthorn Elite #4) - J.L. Beck Page 0,17
muscle in my body has locked up. Words refuse to come out of my mouth, and when he reaches for me, his hand grazing my shoulder, I wince and tuck myself against the wall.
“You want it rough, is that it? Do you want me to…” His words trail off, and his body comes to a standstill.
When I look up from the floor, I see his eyes glued to a spot on my bookshelf. It only takes me a second to realize what he is staring at. In a small pink frame is one of my favorite pictures of Jillian and me. It was taken on my thirteenth birthday. We were blowing out candles of my giant pink cake together. We did it together because she was making me laugh so hard, I couldn’t do it on my own.
“You don’t get to have a picture of her,” he says, his voice is low and gravely, laced with so much hatred it’s dripping from each word. “You don’t get to look at her! You don’t even get to think of her!”
Boots hit the ground heavily with each step as he walks over to the shelf. He grabs the picture and holds it in his hand. With his free one, he swipes the entire contents of the shelf off. Books, pictures, and knickknacks fly through the air before they can hit the floor, Jackson has already wiped out the shelf below.
He doesn’t stop until the whole thing is cleared, and all my stuff is scattered out on the floor. Then he walks to the cabinet and continues his path of destruction there.
I just stand there with my back pressed against the wall. Invisible restraints holding me down. I feel like my feet are cemented to the floor, my body unable to move, even my lungs barely work. I don’t think I’ve taken a full breath in the last ten minutes.
He continues destroying my apartment for what seems like forever. When he is finally done, he is out of breath and sweat covers his face. His eyes look dark, manic, and there’s this profound hurt, so much hurt in those green orbs. I want to go to him. Wrap my arms around him and tell him how sorry I am, but I can’t, nor would he allow it.
With a clenched fist, he takes a step toward me, but then as if rethinking what he wants to do, pauses. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to strangle me again. There is so much pain rolling off of him. I doubt he would be able to stop this time.
“Don’t you dare ever put up a picture of her again. You don’t deserve to see her smiling face. You deserve death. It should’ve been you. It should’ve been you!” he screams, the sound splinters through me. For a long moment, he stands there staring at me like a bull ready to charge, and then out of nowhere, he turns around and leaves.
The door slams shut, and I jerk from the sound. Closing my eyes, I slide down the wall, my legs unable to support me any longer. My whole body shakes with each ragged sob that rips from my chest, and all I can do is wrap my arms around my legs and think of how right he is.
How it should’ve been me and not her.
7
Jackson
Another day of classes, and another night of misery. I thought the nightmares of not being able to save my sister had stopped, but it seems since that night at Kennedy’s house, they’ve gotten worse. I do my best to avoid all thoughts of Kennedy, but it’s hard when I’m doing everything in my damn power to make her life fucking hell.
I had every intention of making her give me a blow job when I went to her house, but that blew up in my face like a giant bomb of fucked up. When I saw that picture of Jillian and Kennedy, I was sucked back in time. The pain flooded into my chest, every ounce of it poured like rain from the sky, making it hard for me to breathe, and all I could do was react.
“Dude, what the fuck are you thinking about? Been getting pussy that’s worthy of daydreaming about or something?” Talon pokes fun beside me as he shoves chips into his mouth.
I look down at the tray of food I got for myself. None of it looks appetizing right now.