Page 29 of Twisted Heathens
Instead, I stuff the twisted desires down and resolve to fix something for once. Her eyes meet mine, grey storm clouds punctuated by the lightest streaks of blue, barely noticeable unless up close. My hand rests on her skin and she’s unconsciously leaning in, relishing my touch without even realising it. I grab a hand towel and silently offer to help.
“Okay,” she relents.
Sinking to rest on the toilet lid, she looks at me expectantly. What am I getting myself into here? I’m no saint. Just seeing her covered in fresh blood has my heart hammering against the ribcage and my cock twitching. She looks like a beautiful fucking disaster, one that I can’t wait to see unfold.
Soaking the towel, I sink to my knees and begin to clean her face. Broad strokes that wipe the dark splatters away, revealing creamy white skin beneath. Working in loaded silence, the intensity has my hand shaking. She refuses to look away and it’s killing me.
Is this what it feels like to be seen? Most of the time, I feel like I’m already dead. No one sees me, even the guys fall into the habit of ignoring me. I don’t blame them, it’s easily done. I’m just there, plodding along in the background. Alone.
I finish up, turning my back. A hand catches my wrist, demanding attention.
“Eli…”
There’s no way to describe the taste of this emotion.
I’ve never experienced it before.
“If you want to talk to me, you can. Just so you know.”
Brooklyn releases her hold. Immediately, I miss the pressure of her fingers wrapped around my wrist. I want nothing more than to shove her against the wall and make her feel what I do. To pull her hair and bruise her skin, drag her down into the depths of hell with me, no matter how much it’ll kill her inside. Life fucking hurts, and I want her to experience it with me. For the first time, I don’t want to be alone. Not one bit.
With a perfunctory nod, I walk away.
Bad Elijah. You’ve got the devil in you.
She’s already damaged. I’d ruin her.
Eleven
Brooklyn
I’m Not Well by Black Foxxes
“So, you want to tell me what happened yesterday?”
Mariam pins me with an authoritative look. Her pen taps against the notepad as the seconds crawl by, forcing me to respond and break the silence.
“Nope. Not really,” I mutter.
With a sigh, she scribbles something down. What the hell is so noteworthy about that? I want to grab the paper and make her fucking choke on it. See how she likes it. Maybe she’d scream and beg for mercy, finally knowing what it feels like to have someone control you.
“Brooklyn. If someone is bothering you, I need to know.”
“I said I’m fine,” I state.
I’m no snitch. Besides, I’m the one who broke bones. Precisely two. Those girls’ noses shattered with blood-tinged satisfaction. Stupid assholes. They should have heeded my warning before coming at me. I don’t want any trouble, that’s exactly what I said. But anything for some drama, right? That’s what girls do.
“Violence is never the answer. It doesn’t solve anything.”
Jesus, she’s on her high horse today, and I have little patience for it. I want to scream, read my file, bitch! Violence is my middle name.
“I can’t make you tell me. But know that I’m here if you wish to discuss it.”
I don’t answer, just keep staring out of the window at the late afternoon sun. The day passed in a blur without any classes, mostly spent hiding under my duvet and pretending I didn’t exist. No one came to bother me, I needed to be alone.
“Did you submit your choices? I notice your taster has officially ended.”
She’s literally the female version of Kade. He probably wouldn’t appreciate that comparison, no matter how hilariously accurate it is.