Page 57 of Commit
She pushes past me, and I let her, her words hitting harder than I expected them to. She pauses in the doorway. “I hope you know you just voided this fucked-up agreement between us, because when he sees this, he’ll work it out. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon, and any leverage you had will be gone just like him and me.”
She looks at me over her shoulder, her voice devoid of emotion. “I hope it was worth it.”
“Even if this is it, if we all go up in flames, you were worth it.”
“A narcissist and a poet. In another life, you would have been just my type.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from someone like you.”
“You shouldn’t. We’re a match made in hell. There’s no version of us that works. We’re destined to destroy each other.”
“But what a beautiful way to burn.”
Chapter Eighteen
Starling
Iwalk out, surprised my legs are still holding me up.
I wipe away my tears and make my way outside, ignoring the rain as I fight the urge to start running and not stop until my feet are raw and bloody.
Somehow, I find myself under the cherry blossom tree. I sit beneath it and try to feel Eloise’s arms around me. I had no idea what a mother’s love felt like until Eloise came along and opened her heart to me. She loved me harder than I’d ever been loved before. And in return, I loved her back more than she deserved.
She was flawed in so many ways, teaching me that no one is just one thing. Kind people can be cruel, mean people can feel empathy, and honest people can lie to save themselves. Nobody is all good or all bad. I know this. I’ve lived it. And since Hudson came into my life, I’ve been reminding myself daily.
But right now, as the rain pours down on me, I’m finding it really fucking hard to remember why I don’t just take his gun while he’s sleeping and put a bullet in his brain. I’d be saving us all in the long run.
I pull my knees to my chest, ignoring the rumble in my stomach. The thought of eating anything makes me want to puke.
“I’m so mad at you,” I whisper, wondering if there’s a part of her still here, listening. “I love you, but I can’t forgive you. I hate you, but I can’t forget you. You condemned him but saved me, and now I’m right back where I started.”
I angrily swipe at my tears. With the rain coming down, I’m soaking wet, so it doesn’t make much difference. Leaning my head back against the trunk, I look up, hoping to see stars, but all I see are storm clouds. Doesn’t that just figure?
Maybe I should leave now. I could find my way out of this place before the smoke catches fire and everything turns to ash. Maybe without me here, father and son can find common ground. Like hating me.
My heart breaks, but what’s one more crack?
I think of my past, something I don’t let myself do much anymore because it leads me down a dark path to razor blades and empty pill bottles. I reach between my legs and feel the tiny, raised scars on my inner thigh. I don’t know if Hudson has noticed them or not, but he’s never mentioned them, and for that, at least, I’m grateful.
It’s been a while since Eloise found me on her bathroom floor after I cut too deep and needed stitches. I had scared her so much that she’d made me promise that I would never cut myself again. It had been the easiest promise I’d ever made because the fear on her face was real. In that moment, my pain was hers, and hers was mine.
She saw me. She knew I was bleeding on the inside, far worse than I was on the outside. But nobody could mend my heart. Nobody could restore my innocence or stop the flow from the knife in my back. But she understood. She could carry my burden for a little while so I could rest and build my strength enough to carry it alone. Because we knew. We always knew that one day I’d be alone again.
As I run my fingers over the scars, I hear the whisper in the back of my head, urging and coaxing me that it won’t matter just this once. It will calm all this chaos inside me.
I dig my nails into my skin and block out the whisper.
Cutting was about control, and I had none in any other aspect of my life. And yeah, as the razor grew slick and my skin grew damp, I would feel relief. But it was as fleeting as shooting something into my veins. The highs were never worth the lows because I always fell further than I could climb.
Now, the control comes from resisting temptation, in my unwillingness to break a dead woman’s heart by breaking a promise. I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my head against my knees. My body shakes from the cold, but I’m not ready to go inside yet. I need to build a wall around myself, or a force-field that will protect me from Hudson’s relentless attacks, and right now, I don’t feel strong enough.
Sometimes you need to allow yourself to break, to let yourself be weak when there’s no one around to see you fall apart and use your pain against you. Nobody tells you how hard it is to be strong all the time or how mentally exhausting it is to just be okay.
So, I let myself cry. I let myself fall to pieces. I give myself grace because life is hard, and I’m just trying to survive it.
I must cry myself to sleep because the next thing I know, strong arms are scooping me up and holding me tightly as they carry me inside. I close my eyes and grip their T-shirt, my body wracked with shivers.
“I’ve got you, Starling. Hold on,” Abbot’s voice murmurs against the top of my head.