Page 40 of Drowned In Silence

Flipping the knife open, I gulp.

Am I ready for this? Do I really want to know what this feels like?

I press the blade into my thigh, pushing and pulling at the same time. Blood instantly comes out of the fresh wound, the pain making me feel grounded for once. I drop the knife to the bed, letting the blood leak out of my thigh and onto the mattress below me.

This is my doing. This is my pain.

The Final Cut

Dynah

I can’t help butfeel utterly lost as soon as I close the door and lock it. I feel like I’m left out of a major plot point in a book, stuck between the pages, and trying to figure out what happened.

One minute I’m laying on the couch while Elliot rustles through papers, the next minute he turns into a completely different person and chased Spencer out of the house.

I’m not scared of his darker side, actually it's quite hot if you were to ask me. The way his eyes narrowed and darkened, the way his grip tightened on my cheek without him realizing it, and ugh… how he growled. The deep growl went straight down and in between my thighs. I had to clench them together and hold back my moan.

I’ve never seen a man who’s anger wasn’t directed at me, and it makes me want to jump on him and go for a nice little ride.

God, I’m fuckingderanged.

I walk into the kitchen absentmindedly, lost in thought and pacing near the counter. I need to blow off some of this steam, need to calm myself before they get here, otherwise I might not be able to keep myself away from him.

It’s one thing letting a stalker captor man touch your fucking bits, but it’s another to fully spread your legs and tell him to eat them too.

Grabbing a knife from the butcher block, I slowly sink to my ass, leaning against the fridge. I hold it in my hands like it’s a precious artifact from a museum. I shouldn’t do this, Elliot will be pissed at me, but if I don’t calm down soon I fear my heart is going to beat out of my chest and my pussy is going to crawl away from me.

I need to manage the pain– the voices– in my head. I only know how to do that myself. I can’t let someone else control me, this is the only way I can control myself.

I hold the handle and bring the blade to the skin of my thigh. Very carefully, I put pressure on the blade, running it horizontally and cutting into the tissue. Throwing my head back against the fridge I let out a sigh. The stinging sensation brings my head out of the clouds, allowing me to focus on the pain instead of everything else. I do it again, cutting open my skin and letting the crimson blood run down my leg. I try not to cut too deep, just enough to feel the pain.

On my third cut, the door handle in the living room jiggles and I jump, slicing deeper than I mean to.

“Fuck!” I yell into the still empty house. Blood is now pouring from my leg, soaking my shorts and the floor under me.

“Dynah Darling, it’s us. Open the door,” Elliot hollers to me through the door.

“Uhm… I can’t!” I yell back.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He is going to be so pissed.

He lets outa small noise, like a cross between a curious sigh and a grunt, before picking the lock and opening the door.

“Where are you?”

“Kitchen… Uhm, before you say anything, I’m sorry,” I mumble, hoping he won’t yell at me. I know he isn’t like the other men I’ve dealt with in life, but something like this might trigger him. I don’t want his anger directed at me.

I’m so stupid! Why did I do this? I’m going to ruin everything he’s helped me with. Tears run down my cheeks, falling to my thigh and mixing with the blood. He’s going to be so angry… so violent.

Fuck!

“What the fuck did you do?” He yells, turning the corner and coming to a standstill above me. “Why–”

“I didn’t mean to cut too deep! You wiggled the door handle and it scared me. I was just… I was…” I let out a deep sob and look up at him with puppy dog eyes, hoping he will forgive me for being stupid and move on.

Elliot doesn't say another word as he takes the knife from my hands and sets it inside the sink. When he reaches for me I cower, flinching in on myself and putting my hands up to cover my face.

“Don’t hide from me, Darling. I won’t hurt you,” he says. With easy movements, he picks me up and pulls me to his chest bridal style, letting me cry it out against him. My head lays on his shoulder and we make our way into the bedroom. He sets me down on the bed and pries me off him. I don’t want to let go. What happens when I do? Is he going to hurt me now that we're alone?