body stands on end. I force my legs to move and take a few steps back.
“…not to sound egotistical or anything—but everything is about me.”
The memory of his voice, that whole night, barrels down on me like a runaway train that only gains speed when he steps toward me.
“Stop!” I shout, pulling my knife from my bag and thrusting it toward him. “Come one step closer and I swear to god I’ll cut your fucking balls off.”
His face goes slack before screwing up angrily. “What the fuck’s your problem? I was just—” His eyes narrow, and I see the wheels turning, tension drawing into his pretty face. His grip tightens on the wrench in his hand, eyes sparking in recognition. He breathes a low, “Aw, fuck.”
He knows. He remembers. My jaw twinges in memory, too. It was three weeks before I could eat solids again, and it still aches sometimes, like a phantom blow. It’s not like I can’t take a punch. Eight years with Doug taught me everything I needed to know in that regard. It was the randomness of it. The lack of expectation. The knowledge that Doug could be anyone, anywhere, at any time.
I’m never safe.
Not from people like them.
“Look,” he begins, holding his hands up defensively. “That night at the Briar Cliffs, I never meant—”
“Shut up.” The only thing that’d make it worse is an apology. ‘Sorry’ is bullshit. I’ve heard enough of those in my life to know. “Tell Merle I’ll be back about the Mustang later.”
His eyes dart to the car on the lift, and he looks at it much like he just looked at me. I use the distraction to make a hasty retreat, running out of the enclosed garage and back into the cold winter air. I’d done everything I could to get away from the abusive asshole back home.
There’s no way I’m dealing with another one here.
3
Sebastian
With the barest thread of control, I manage not to lose my shit until she’s off the property. I don’t know at first just what I’ll do—as usual—but I can feel it swelling inside of me and bucking to break free. The instant she’s gone, I reach back and hurl my arm forward, flinging the wrench across the room. It smashes noisily into the workbench, landing with precision, scattering tools all over the floor. It’s meager and dissatisfying. It’s not the feel of my fist meeting bone, a flame licking up my spine and exploding from my muscles. I thrust my hand into the box and pick up another, throwing it at the same spot, and then another. I lose track of what gets thrown, unable to see past the thing burning inside of me, pummeling the fuck out of the wall.
It barely leeches the blind fury from the pit of my chest.
No matter how many direct hits I make, I can’t get that girl’s expression out of my mind. It was like she’d seen a ghost. No, worse, a monster.
I’m the one who saw a ghost. How else could I possibly fucking explain that girl from the Briar Cliffs—my dirty secret, the worst thing I’ve ever done—just waltzing right into this garage. It took me longer than it should have to recognize her. The blue tips of her hair were gone, and everything about her looked tired and harsh—especially her eyes. They’re what made me connect the dots. Those big hazel eyes. The fear was the same today as it was then.
She’s terrified of me.
At least this time she didn’t scream.
Jesus Christ.
I shove my hands in my hair, and it takes me longer now than it used to, gathering up all this fury and packing it away. It was easier when I could just beat the fuck out of someone and lay it all on them. There’s probably a name for it somewhere, in some boring, overly-technical textbook. Fucked-Up Pretty Boy Syndrome. If it had an illustration, it’d just be wild, Pollock-esque scribbles. The caption would read ‘prognosis: terminal.’
I try breathing. Everyone tells me do that when I get like this. ‘Just breathe, Bass’. Most useless fucking thing ever. My lungs are not the problem here. Still, I do it, air whistling through my gnashed teeth.
My eyes dart to the Mustang up on the lift, the one she said was hers. I noticed it when I got in this morning, mostly due to the fact I was surprised someone had been able to get it here in the first place. It was obviously held