by C T Rhames
It was hard to stay down around Rosa, though. She led me on a tour of her house, which was busy and full of kids and trinkets and blankets she said her mom brought from Mexico. She had six younger siblings, but since she was the oldest, she got her own room. That’s where we went with our slices of pie, after her warm mother, who looked like an older version of Rosa with slightly darker skin, greeted us and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Sorry it’s so chaotic!” Rosa shook her head as she shut the door behind her.
“It’s fine.” It reminded me of happier times in my own home. Back before bad things started. Before the accident.
“Wanna watch 10 Thing I Hate About You?”
“I’ve never heard of it,” I admitted.
“Oh my god! It’s the best movie ever! With Heath Ledger.” She shoved a DVD into the player and gestured for me to sit on her double bed, which had a Pirates of the Caribbean blanket on it. I piled a couple pillows against the headboard and sat down gingerly.
“You’re going to love this!” Rosa squealed. “I love showing my favorite movies to new people.”
I had to smile at her enthusiasm. I wasn’t that keen on romantic comedies, but I could pretend. It would be nice to actually have a friend here.
Rosa ate her pie in a few bites, but I slowly nibbled the meringue off and then poked the filling with my fork, licking it off as we watched the movie. It was a really good pie and I tried to finish it to be polite, but I just couldn’t manage it. My stomach felt like it was stretched too tight and bulging under my sweatshirt.
I set the plate down and tried to pay attention to the movie. Some curly haired guy was singing onscreen and Rosa sang along under her breath. I smiled at her enthusiasm.
“Wasn’t that awesome? It’s one of my absolute favorites!” She grinned at me when the credits rolled.
“It was good,” I told her. My mind hadn’t been on the movie much at all, but I could see she loved it enough to be hurt if I didn’t.
After saying goodbye to the multiple small siblings in the house and Rosa’s mother, she drove me home so I didn’t have to take the bus. I waved goodbye as she headed back down the driveway and found myself alone once more.
It wasn’t dark or raining for a change, so I decided to go down to the beach and check it out. Maybe there would be something good about living here.
Chapter 6
The beach was nothing like the sandy spreads I was used to in California. This one was rocky and covered in scattered shells that lay shattered and broken on the rocks. They littered the beach to the point of making some sections look like white sand. It was a cold, harsh beach and it reminded me of life these days.
Sitting on a large rock, I watched a tiny crab scuttle across the pebbles and disappear into a tide pool. I looked out across the choppy waves that splashed salt into the air and misted my face with their fresh spray.
What would it feel like to just walk out into those waves and sink beneath them? To let the cold drag me under and erase me from the world?
“What are you doing here?” Ethan’s deep, angry voice pulled me out of my dark thoughts.
“What are you doing here?” I responded, copying his words.
He strode across the rocks like he was half mountain goat and leapt up in front of me, glaring. He looked furious and his icy eyes were burning with a cold anger that froze me to the core.
“I asked you a question, broken girl.”
“It’s not a private beach.” I felt my heart stutter. He really was angry, but surely not at me. I hadn’t done anything to him.
“This is my section of the beach. You don’t have permission to be here,” he snapped.
“A beach is public, I have every right to be here,” I snapped back and immediately regretted it.
His hand shot out, wrapping itself around my throat, choking off my air supply as he squeezed. His eyes shone in the dusky twilight and I knew he was getting turned on by choking me.
I struck at him in vain, but he just tipped me over on the rock, holding me down by my neck, leaning his body weight on my legs and pelvis. His other hand caught my hands and locked them above my head.
I begged him with my eyes to stop and to let me breathe, but he just smirked and kept his hand in place, looking into my eyes. He seemed to be searching for something and I wasn’t sure what it was.
Just as my vision was starting to darken, he loosened his grip, letting me suck in a breath. He kept his hand on my throat though, feeling my pulse and rubbing a roughened thumb over my tender skin.
“Let me go,” I whispered, unable to do much more.
His eyes dropped to my heaving chest and he chuckled. It was a cold sound, almost as icy as his eyes.
“Why do you say no to me?” He asked
“You haven’t asked me anything.”
“Let’s go swimming.”
“No.”
“See?” He leaned more weight onto me, letting me feel his hard length against my leg. “You always say no.”
“You don’t make good suggestions.”
“No one has ever said no to me as much as you have and you’ve only been here a few days.”
I glared at him. “Attacking me every chance you get might have something to do with it.”
He bit his lip and despite my position, I found it sexy as hell. I closed my eyes, trying to will myself away. Trying to escape to that mental haven that I’d used before so many times.
“Hey, stay here with me. No running off.” His hand on my neck tightened and I gasped, opening my eyes.
“I want to see your scars.”
“No.”
He tightened his grip. “Then I’ll give you choices. No more saying no.”
“Just let me go.”
“I will. If you show me your scars.”
“No.”
He grunted, annoyed with me. “Show me your scars or I’ll ask Rosa to suck my dick.”
My eyes flew open. “What?”
“You heard me. And you know she won’t say no. She won’t like it, but she’ll do it. And that will be on you.”
“You evil son of a bitch! That’s rape. I’ll report you!”
“For what? Talking?” He smiled a slow, twisted smile. “So, show me your scars and Rosa will remain untouched.”
I glared at him. “I can’t show you shit with you on top of me.”
“But you like it, don’t you?” He wriggled slightly, moving my legs apart and pushing his erection between them. I could feel myself dampening for him, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
Besides, I was over sex. Forever. I wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of taking my innocence again.
Ethan leaned in very close and licked my scar, so fast I barely registered it before he pulled back and stood, waiting.
I decided to show him my simplest scars, from the first times I’d cut. Before I realized that there were better, hidden places to do it.
Pushing up my sleeves, I bared my arms to him and he caught them in his hands. His thumbs caressed the silvered lines there and then he pressed into them until I yelped.
“Why do you want to hurt me?”
“You want to hurt.” He looked into my eyes, his own blazing with a heat I’d never seen before. “You’re begging for me to hurt you, to take away the pain in your head. Your eyes begged me that very first day I saw you.”
“I don’t want you to hurt me. I never asked for that,” I whispered.
“But you did,” he said back. He lifted one of my arms, the left one, which was the most marked. “And now I will give you exactly what you want.”
His teeth closed over my soft skin, right where the scars crisscrossed, and he bit me until I whimpered in pain. Then he lifted his head, his eyes darkened with arousal and his teeth flashing bright in the twilight. “See? You need this.”
“You’re sick and wrong,” I hissed at him, raising my hand to hit him.
“I am,” he admitted fre
ely and without care. He batted my hand away easily. “But I’m not the only one.”
“Shut up. I am nothing like you, asshole.”
“You’re just as broken as I am, broken girl. But in a different way.” He cocked his head and looked at me in the growing darkness. “You need me to hurt you, to let out the bad. And I need you to hurt, to let out my bad.”
“You don’t even make sense.” My voice was small, because I felt in the very core of my body that he was right. But I hated him for bringing it out. “I don’t want you to touch me. You have to leave me alone or I’ll call the police.”
“Will you? Then what will happen to poor Rosa?”
He had me there. Looking into those cold eyes, I knew he had no intention of letting me get away with anything. He was going to force me whether I liked it or not. Worst of all, some small part of me did like it.
“Stay away from me!” I spun and ran toward the steps, not caring if I was being rude.
At the top of the steps, I turned and saw him standing there by the sea, his arms crossed. I could swear his eyes were burning me with cold from all the way down there.
Shivering, I headed into the house and made sure to lock all the doors.
Chapter 7
Over the weekend, I did absolutely nothing. I sat in my room and watched YouTube videos until I was bored to tears. I showered and was reminded of Ethan by the bruises he’d left on my throat and the teeth marks he’d left on my arm.
I didn’t cut all weekend. It was like the bite that he’d given me had drained all the darkness out and I was okay for a while. It was like I’d cut myself five or six times, for the relief it brought. When I pressed on the marks, they hurt and made my body flood with endorphins, bringing the calm that I craved.
It was sick, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Ethan was actually right. Maybe I did need him to hurt me.
I shook the thought away. No, I wasn’t that kind of girl. That was sick. It was wrong. Only really messed up people wanted to be hurt. I didn’t want that, of course I didn’t. Then again, maybe only really messed up people cut themselves.
Since I didn’t go outside, I didn’t see Ethan again until Monday, when I arrived at school. He was waiting for me by the doors again and I knew as soon as I saw him that he was there for me. Sparks shot through my body and my heart started to pound.
“Broken girl,” he said, his lips barely moving. No one around us heard him, I was sure.
“Leave me alone,” I warned, stepping around him.
No luck.
He reached out and easily caught me around the waist, spinning my body to face him. He looked relaxed, almost unnaturally so. But I knew the truth, there was a darkness in his eyes that hinted at danger and the inner roughness he contained so well in public.
“Let me see.”
It’s a command without details, but I know what he wants. To see the mark he left on me.
It was easiest to just show him, so he wouldn’t make a scene in front of the entire school. I pulled my sleeve up just far enough for him to see the scars, surrounded by the neat bite mark he left on my skin.
The mark had faded since Friday, but it was still bruised in a dual arc pattern.
He smiled and ran his rough thumb over it, sending confusing sensations up my arm. I sucked in a breath and he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “No more cuts. I’m the only one who will mark you.” His voice was a promise coated in ice.
With a final squeeze on my arm, making the bruise ache, he joined the stream of students walking into the building and left me alone, trembling at the overstimulation from his voice in my ear and the bruise on my arm.
Finally, I recovered enough to scold myself and head in to class.
All day, I could feel Ethan’s eyes on me. Every time I turned around, he was there, those icy blue eyes focused on me, a slight frown on his face.
I’d caught the guy’s attention and he seemed to be everywhere now. He was either following me or I had been blissfully unaware of how many spaces we shared in a day.
As I stumbled out of the school that afternoon, to yet another rainstorm, the familiar Mustang pulled up to the steps and the passenger door swung open.
“Get in.” He didn’t have to say it loudly, I heard the command in it.
“And if I don’t?”
“You’ll get wet and come down with a cold. Maybe pneumonia.”
I glared at him. He was right though, the prospect of waiting at the bus stop to get home was not something I entertained. I slid into the passenger seat and closed the door quickly so he had no excuse to reach over me.
“But just drop me off this time,” I said, suddenly feeling shaky. What was I doing in the car with this guy? He had already shown me that he was ridiculously unstable. Was a ride in a dry car really worth having his hand around my neck again?
As I cursed myself out for falling for his offer, Ethan remained silent, driving through the wet streets with ease. I shivered, more from his closeness than from cold, as we pulled into my driveway.
“I can come in or we can do this right here in the car,” he said, his voice dropping.
I hated that I already knew what made him hot. Even worse, that rasp in his voice made me hot and it really shouldn’t.
“I told you to just drop me off,” I said.
“We both know I never agreed to that.”
I looked into his eyes, seeing the cold indifference there. “Fine, come in. Have some coffee. Then you leave. My dad is coming home tonight.”
“Does your dad know you self-harm?” he asked, climbing out of the car.
“He doesn’t know anything about me.” The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them. I barged ahead, going into the house and leaving the door open behind me. I knew he’d come in anyway.
While Ethan wandered in and closed the door, I started to make coffee. My hands shook slightly as I measured it into the filter and poured the water. His presence behind me set my entire body alight. Without looking at him, I could feel where he was in the room.
Clicking the coffee maker on, I felt him come up behind me. His hands appeared on the counter on either side of me, gripping it tightly as if he were trying to stay in control. His breath wafted, minty sweet, against my neck.
He wasn’t touching me, but the heat from his body prickled my skin.
“You can sit,” I said, my voice wavering.
“I have a better idea.”
He grabbed me by the waist and spun me around, moving me so rapidly across the room that my feet barely touched the ground. He deposited me in a chair and stood there looking at me.
“What do you want?” I asked desperately.
“You already know.” He pulled another chair over and sat close to me, right in front of me.
“I don’t know.” I bit my lip and looked down at his hands. They were clasped in his lap, the knuckles whitened from his grip.
“Where are your other scars?”
“I showed them to you,” I whispered.
“Don’t lie to me.” Ethan leaned in, peering at me under my curtain of hair. “Don’t you ever lie to me. Where are your scars?”
“On my legs,” I finally managed to get out. “But you can’t see them.”
“Where on your legs?” His hands left his lap and gripped my knees. “Here?”
I glared at him. “Take your hands off me. I didn’t say you could touch me.”
“Here?” he repeated, ignoring my outburst.
“No,” I whispered, the sensation of his touch already muting my voice.
He slid his hands up a few inches. “Here?”
I shook my head, biting back the tears that threatened to spill as he tried to dig one of my best kept secrets out of me.
“Here.” His fingers bit into my thighs, sending a shooting pain from the freshest cut down my leg.
He didn’t have to ask. My flinch answered him.
“That’s an interesting place to cut,” he said quietly, his fin
gers still digging into my flesh, making it feel as if my jeans had disappeared.
The world shrunk until it was just his eyes on mine, his fingers on my thighs. Heat spread from his fingertips and warmed my core. I wriggled, embarrassed at my body’s reaction to his touch. This was wrong, so very wrong.
“Have you cut since I told you not to?” Ethan asked, his voice gravelly.
“No.” The words slipped from my mouth.
“Give me your kit.”
“No.” This time my voice was stronger. “You can’t have that.”
“Stop saying no to me . . . I’m going to get what I want,” he told me. “Now go get your kit.” His fingers left my thighs, making me feel empty.
That’s how messed up I was, actually wanting to have him gripping my legs and hurting me.
“Kit. Now.” He snapped his fingers.
I glared at him and crossed my arms. “You don’t get to have that.”
“Then how will I ensure you won’t cut yourself again?” he asked. His eyes trailed a line of heat down my body. “Or would you rather I examine every inch of you every time we meet to make sure?”
“No, of course not. And you don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do.”
“You’re right.” He leaned back and stretched. “I’ll just let your dad know what you’re into. Might mention that I have been in his house while he’s away, too.”
“You wouldn’t!”
He gave me a crooked smile. “Oh, but I would.”
We stayed there for a long moment, glaring at each other. Then I gave in. “Fine. You can have the stupid kit, but it’s not like I can’t get more blades.”
“You won’t.” He sounded completely self-assured as he followed me up the stairs to my room.
We stepped inside and I made sure to leave the bedroom door open, all too aware that there was a bed that could spark ideas in his crazy head.
But all Ethan did was raise an eyebrow as he looked around the room. “Pink? I didn’t figure you for a pink girl.”
“I’m not. My dad painted it.” I slid my hand under the pillow and pulled out my kit. “Here. Take the damn thing and get out.”
