becomes nothing more than a muffled squeak.
“Did you think you could use me? That you could play me?” Jackson’s rage-filled voice burns the tips of my ears. I try to twist around in his grip, but it’s no use as I almost trip over my own feet while he drags me behind him. What is happening?
Tugging me around a corner, I don’t realize that I’m trapped between two buildings until Jackson shoves me against the brick exterior. Like a bear, his body looms over mine, blocking out any slivers of sunlight.
I shiver at the feral look in Jackson’s eyes, and that’s when I see him. Tylor. Oh, god. This can’t be happening. Placing a hand against my stomach, I try to combat the need to vomit. I have to get away, have to escape before he hurts me.
“Answer me!” Jackson yells into my face. His fingers dig into my upper arms as he gives me a shake as if he is trying to shake a response out of me. His grip is so tight, my arms hurt. The same hands that caressed me last night, now leave bruises on my skin.
“I…” Is the only thing I can get past the lump in my throat. Only then do his words trickle into my fear-stricken mind. “Did you think you could use me? That you could play me?” What is he talking about? I shake my head, trying to tell him that I don’t understand, but he only shoves me against the wall again. My head bounces off the brick, and I welcome the pain. It’s better than the fear, better than the throbbing ache in my chest.
My vision blurs with tears, but I can still make out Tylor standing right next to us, a sinister smirk on his face.
“You’re a selfish bitch, and I can’t believe that I fell for your act, that I even considered forgiving you.”
I’m so confused.
“What?” I ask, my voice cracking in two at the end.
“Come on, killer, you didn’t think I wasn’t going to tell him, did you?” Tylor’s voice is like acid touching my skin, and when he touches his crotch, bile rises in my throat. I want to scream, to fight, to tell Jackson that whatever he told him isn’t true, but I can’t get the words out.
Jackson’s entire body trembles with indescribable rage, and I flinch, afraid that he may actually hurt me. I’ve never seen him so angry, seen him so close to the edge.
“I thought if I showed you that I cared, we could both heal, but I realized today that you don’t deserve to heal. You deserve to suffocate, to drown in your own pain and misery.” Then he leans into me, his lip curled—I turn away, afraid of what may happen if I look him in the eyes—as he whispers, “Cut yourself a little deeper next time.”
He doesn’t know it, but his words cut me deeper than any wound I could ever inflict on myself. He could throw me to the wall hard enough to crack my skull, and it wouldn’t hurt as much as this. Deep down, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. I ate out of his open palm, letting him feed me lies, and make me believe something that was far too good to be true.
Between Jackson’s anger and Tylor’s presence, I’m in my own personal hell.
With one final shove, he releases me, and I slump back against the wall. I’m broken, a wound pulsing with blood, and soon I’ll bleed out. Rearing his arm back, he swings it at me like he’s going to punch me. The air swishes past my face, and I close my eyes and wait for the pain, but it never comes.
I feel the impact of his fist against the wall, and when I pry my eyes open, I find him standing in front of me, blood dripping down his clenched fist. He’s looking straight at me with nothing but unbridled hate and betrayal in his eyes. Everything we shared these last few days, every happy moment, every kiss, and every touch has been erased from his mind. In an instant, I’ve become nothing to him.
For every step we took forward, we just took twice as many back.
“I hate you, and I regret ever meeting you. I regret touching you. I regret everything between us,” he spits the words at me before turning around and walking away. Tylor stands there for another second, a wide smile spread across his face.