Page 155 of Hate to Love You
What the fuck have I done?
Pushing off her, I walk backwards until my back hits the opposite wall, staring at her laying there, her bloody chest heaving.
The words become a mess of blood, but my branding is clear:
SLUT.
I carved slut into Heather’s fucking chest.
My nostrils flare as I stare at the mess in front of me, out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of myself in the mirror, my eyes dark. A sinister grin stretched across my face. Blood smeared across my forehead running into my hair.
I’m covered in her.
Shooting forward I dart toward the sink, throwing the tap on. Water splashes everywhere as I scrub the blood from my hands and knees.
Eventually I turn back to Heather, who is sobbing quietly on the floor, and bend down to her level.
“I’m going to untie you, you’re going to cover that up,” I gesture to her chest, “and then you’re going to fucking leave. Am I making myself clear?”
She nods frantically, moving forward I grab the blade and roll her over, smearing more blood over the white tile floors. After slicing through my tights binding her hands, I step back and let her up.
I keep the letter opener firmly pointed at her, just in case she decides to come at me. But she doesn’t, and instead she dashes to the door, unlocks it, and bolts out of the bathroom.
Okay, so it doesn’t look like a massacre here anymore.
I’ve cleaned the blood from the floors the best I can, but I couldn’t get it out of the grout between the tiles, the red tinge is still visible if you look closely enough.
Bracing myself, I walk from the bathroom, the letter opener tucked in my sleeve and my chin held high.
The floor is silent, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I round the corner toward my desk. But just as I’m about to sit down, the privacy glass on Roman’s office changes, giving me a clear view of what’s going on behind it.
Roman is sitting at his desk, glaring at me as a hysterical Heather sobs from one of the chairs, and Cal stands behind her.
Well shit, the little slut sang like a canary.
Ignoring the scene in front of me, I sit down, opening my emails and going on with my day.
My face burns as I feel Roman’s gaze. I hate that I know when he’s staring at me, it’s like an itch I can’t quite reach. My entire body vibrates with the need to turn around and stare back at him.
A molecule of regret bubbles in my chest as I hear her sobbing, her cries getting louder and louder the longer she’s sat there. I know that an obsidian blade like this, against the sensitive breast tissue, will leave a scar, one that will likely be carved into her chest forever.
Still, it felt so fucking good.
It felt better than anything I’ve ever done before. I could probably go skydiving tomorrow and the rush wouldn’t even be able to touch this.
The phone to my left rings, and I jump, grabbing the receiver and bringing it to my ear without hesitation.
But before I can utter a word, his voice comes through.
“Get in here. Now.”
Before I even have a chance to respond, the line goes dead. Yet I can still feel his eyes lingering on me in the silence.
Well, shit.
Rising from my desk, I stand, smoothing my hands down the front of my skirt before heading over to his office. Taking a deep breath, I push open the door, only for the calm to be interrupted by Heather jumping up as she screams.
“Get her the fuck away from me, she’s fucking crazy!”