Page 18 of Prince of Pain
My finger hovered over Ryder’s number for a second before I hit call, and I was surprised when he actually answered.
“What?” He sounded half asleep, so I’d probably woken him up. I had no idea what time he’d left the party, but I knew it was late.
“Ry?” I was trying to control my crying but my voice cracked, waking him up properly.
“Temp? What’s wrong?”
“Dad flipped out and trashed my room, and Mom’s crying, and?—”
“This is what happens when you’re a hot mess, everyone’s on your ass about shit all the time. What do you want me to do? Show up and take your side against your dad? Whatever he was pissed about was probably valid. I’ve got my own shit to deal with. I can’t handle yours too.”
“I need you. No one gets me like you do, remember?” I pleaded, getting desperate. “Please.”
“You don’t need me, you need rehab. I mean that because I care, okay?” he said gently, clearing his throat. “I have to be selfish here and think of myself. I can’t be around you like this, or I’ll end up back on everything. Get off the drugs. Trust me. Until then, don’t call me.”
He hung up and I raked my hands through my hair, yanking hard to feel the burn. It didn’t help, neither did smacking myself in the head.
I popped my phone out of its case and took the silver blade between my fingers, toying with it for a second to see if I could calm myself down. Deep breaths didn’t work, and my mind was too loud to think of a distraction, so I pulled the large shirt out of the way and pressed the blade to a spot high on my thigh, an instant calm washing through me as I dragged it across my skin, and I focused on the crimson blood that rose to the surface.
I did it again, feeling the sting a little more this time, and I wiped the blade on my shirt before putting it back in between my phone and the case. I dropped my head back on the door, closing my eyes and listening to the thumping in my head as I felt the blood run down my leg.
The peace I felt in these moments was the reason I couldn’t stop.
Everything was okay again, my head was silent.
Ryder
I laid in bed but couldn’t get back to sleep. Guilt burned in my chest until I growled and swung my legs out of bed, getting dressed and snatching my phone off the bedside table before stomping downstairs.
Marco and Skeeter were in the kitchen, and Marco called out to me before I could get past them. “Where are you off to?”
“I have to deal with something. I’ll be back later.”
I was trying to be quick but they obviously weren’t reading the vibes.
“Sit down and have breakfast first. I want to talk to you,” Skeeter said, his voice firm.
“Later. I need?—”
“Sit. Down.” He was losing his patience, but so was I. Tempest wasn’t my problem, but I’d never forgive myself if she was finally pushed over the edge and I hadn’t tried to stop her.
“I said later!” I bit out, not giving a shit if I looked rude. “I think my friend’s going to hurt themself.”
That seemed to calm his mood as concern filled his eyes.
“Want us to come with you?”
“No, they’ll freak out. I just need to make sure they’re okay then I’ll come home. I promise,” I explained, catching Skeeter’s keys as he tossed them to me.
“I hope they’re alright. Take the McLaren, your Hellcat’s still at Beckett’s.”
I thanked him and darted down to the garage, not wasting time as I peeled out of there like my ass was on fire.
No one stopped me as I sped along the road, and I cursed as I realized I’d have to park somewhere that Lexi and Archer wouldn’t hear or see me. If I barged in, they’d want answers.
I found a spot two streets down and locked the car before running towards Tempest’s house, sneaking through the side gate and around to her bedroom window like I had a million times before.
I peeked inside to find her sitting on the floor by the door, blood on her fingers and fresh cuts on her thighs. She didn’t look like she was going to slit her throat or anything, but I didn’t want to leave just in case.