Hurt Like Me

by P. A. Brokenshire

  "I need some air. I'm going to step outside," I said when we were in the hallway, not sure why I was even giving him an explanation. He wasn't my keeper; he wasn't even my friend.

  "I'll go to the cafeteria and get us something to eat."

  I wanted to argue, but my stomach grumbled at the mention of food. I hadn't eaten since the pretzels on my flight that morning. It was late in the evening, creeping close to the end of visiting hours. Would he leave then? I could only hope so. I didn't know if I could stand to sleep with him there.

  The elevator was closed to everyone except custodians. We made our way to the stairwell instead. A couple flights of stairs and I would be free of him for a little while at least. I pressed open the door, needing desperately to be away from him, to clear my mind before I either punched him or did something even more stupid.

  I was so distracted that I didn't notice the drop until it was too late. The lip of the door jamb caught my heel and I stumbled forward. He reached out to steady me and just that small bit of contact caused the anger to surpass my traitorous heart.

  "I don't need your help," I seethed, the tears I had been holding back bubbled to the surface. I steadied myself on the railing and his cool resolve snapped.

  "Well excuse me for trying to stop you from cracking your head open." He ripped his hand from my arm, and I could swear it left a burn mark in its place. "That's the last thing John needs."

  It's the way he said my dad's name, the reverence on his tongue that made me shove him back.

  "Because you know my father so much better than me?"

  He recovered from my words even faster than the push, his expression shifted from anger to malice in the span of a second.

  "Actually, I do! When was the last time you even bothered to call him?"

  My heart ached at his accusation. My face flushed with heat, my skin hot with embarrassment. That was a low blow even for Garrett.

  "This is hard enough without you being here," I said, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand as I stepped away from him and tried to get some space. "You're the reason I couldn't even bring myself to visit him for the past year, you know that?"

  I didn't mean to tell him that. I didn't want him to know that he still had so much power over me. He pulled his fingers through his dark hair, clearly frustrated. He tried to speak, but I cut him off.

  "If he knew who you really were, he never would have taken you in," I said, my insides cooling to ice. I wouldn't let him break me, not after all this time. Not after all the work I put in to separate myself from my past. I would break him first. "You had nowhere else to go because no one can stand you. Not even your own brother wants you anymore."

  His hands balled into angry fists, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. Good, I wanted to make him hurt.

  "That's it, isn't it? You ruined the only family you had left so you had to steal mine."

  His teeth gritted so tight I thought they might crack. He strode across the small space. My back hit the wall with a hard thud. I could feel the chill of the cement through my dress.

  "Fuck," I grunted, my eyes narrowing as he reached towards my tear-stained face.

  I felt the softness of his fingers on my cheek long before I noticed his grip. He held my chin in his hand like a vice, enough to hurt. I didn't care. I wanted his anger. My head found the cool wall behind me, his breath washing over my face. The scent of cinnamon made me dizzy. My mouth watered involuntarily. He leaned into me, pressing his chest to mine and I could feel the low growl vibrate through him.

  "Why are you being such a bitch?" he said, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

  "A bitch? That's fucking rich." I growled the words at him. "Did you forget that you destroyed me?"

  He didn't say anything, didn't even bother to apologize.

  "You found everything about myself that I hated and amplified it," I said, a sob escaping me. My eyes watered, my skin on fire from his hand on my face. "Am I just supposed to forget that? Am I supposed to forgive you because my dad feels pity for you? It literally hurts to have you here. But that's probably the part that thrills you. You've always gotten off on hurting people. Mental pain, physical pain, emotional pain. It's all the same to you."

  I dug my hands between us, my nails burrowing into his chest with fury, hard enough to draw blood. He didn't step back, instead he released a groan and my eyes widened in surprise. My stomach flipped and my breaths came out hot and fast.

  "Did you ever think that I like the pain I feel in return?" He asked, practically purring under my hands. I watched his cool blue eyes morph, the expression shifting suddenly from anger to lust. A shot of lightning passed through me straight between my thighs. I remembered that look. I'd been picturing it for years. The face I pictured was much younger, softer. Now it was sharp and rugged, but so much more erotic. "I've blurred the line so much that I don't know where the pleasure begins."

  He heaved a sigh, shutting his eyes. His head fell forward as I scraped his stomach through his shirt. My thighs rubbed together, knowing this was all types of wrong. His hold on my chin tightened close to bruising.

  "What are you going to do, choke me?" I asked, quietly.

  His eyes snapped open to meet mine. His hold on my face softened in fear, but I didn't want him to pull away.

  "Would that make you happy? Punishing the pet?" My voice came out husky, full of sex and he looked at me with the deepest desperation.

  I couldn't think, not when he looked at me like that. I wanted to hate him, but as he held me there, restraining me, controlling me, I felt myself grow wet. My body still wanted his, even sober, even 10 years later. A sly grin stretched across his mouth as his hand slid from my chin to my throat.

  "I'll choke you, but only if you want me to. Only because you deserve to be punished."

  The moan was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I turned my head to the side, trying to hide my blush, but the damage was done.

  "Look at me," he breathed the words and I obeyed.

  I'd never seen anybody look so hungry and it made me forget myself. My eyes locked with his as my fingers clutched into his shirt and he leaned forward to close the gap between us. I closed my eyes just as his lips clashed with mine. White flashed behind my eyelids. His lips pushed mine open, his tongue delving in hungrily as I trembled. The taste of cinnamon was overpowering. I felt my teenage self howl in approval. I remembered that taste. My hands moved on their own accord, reaching for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling to separate them. I wanted more this time. Eighteen-year-old Avery begged for it. Nothing would stop me this time. He chuckled against my lips and I whimpered when he pulled away.

  "Greedy little thing."

  A new surge of heat between my thighs, a fresh wave of moisture. I wanted to tell him to shut up, to snap at him, but I wanted him to keep talking even more. I wanted to keep this side of him forever. The Garrett that looked at me with desire, want. I found my voice, my cheeks flaming.

  "Keep talking to me. Tell me exactly what you're thinking...what you want."

  I don't know who was more shocked by my words, him or me. I wasn't that shy girl anymore. His breath hitched, his hand falling from my throat as he helped me with his shirt. He pushed it open and then grasped my hands in his, guiding my palms to his chest, over his heart. It beat hard against my hands.

  "Feel that," he whispered. "My heart pounding under your fingers? It races every time I think about that party, about you."

  I gave a small gasp at his words, but he allowed me no time to over think their meaning. He dragged my fingers down his ribs and as I felt the ripples of his muscles, I let out a mewling noise.

  "I like the feel of your hands, so warm and soft. I wonder where else you're soft and if it's wet there for me. It was so wet back then. Like my own personal fountain."

  "Holy fuck," I mumbled in response, choking back the saliva pooling in my mouth when I felt the soft black curls just above his belt.

  "I should have had you lick my
thigh clean that night."

  He placed my hands on his belt buckle and released them, placing his hands on the wall at the sides of my head, blocking me in.

  "Unbuckle it," he said, his voice thick. I followed his command, but when I reached for the button of his pants his hand came from the wall back to my throat, tighter than before. "Did I say you could do that?"

  I felt a bit of my anger resurface, but he licked his lips, and I was lost again. His thumb brushed my pulse point.

  "Has so much time passed that you forgot about who has the control? Who is the pet?"

  I gulped, shaking my head, my throat constricting with a swallow under his hand.

  "You will speak when spoken to. Yes, Sir. Say it."

  My head was swimming, my center ached. There was no turning back. I needed this, I needed him. My whole life was falling apart, and I just wanted to feel something, and he made me feel so many things.

  "Yes, Sir."

  The grin he gave me in response was wicked. He slid his hand against my collar bone, brushing away my hair, and my chest arched into his touch. The burn was exquisite. I felt my nipples strain against my dress and I nearly choked on his next words.

  "Good girl."

  I was lost. So incredibly lost that I didn't hear the door.

  "Oh my." A soft southern voice broke the moment and my heart dropped into my stomach.

  Garrett scrambled away from me, clutching his shirt closed as he turned to the very shocked nurse. I felt naked. I shouldn't. I was still very much dressed, but I felt exposed. Tears welled in my eyes as I made my way quickly down the stairs. I didn't stop to hear what was said behind me as I raced away from Garrett and undeniably the second worst decision of my life. The shit part is that this time I was stone cold sober.

  Chapter 19

  Garrett- Present

  Avery took off like she was racing the 100-yard dash, clearly embarrassed. I turned toward the nurse, a curvy brunette. She eyed my bare chest as I buttoned up my shirt, but quickly averted her gaze when I tsked her like a child. It made her giggle, and I may have winked at her before making my way down the stairs. I didn't know why I did that; hell, I didn't know why I did any of it. I shouldn't have pushed Avery. I definitely shouldn't have kissed her, and I really shouldn't have done anything past that. Avery had pushed me too far, chest heaving with that sweet scent of her skin that made me want to eat her alive. She always smelled like sugar. Tasted liked it too if I remembered right. I was already on edge with the whole situation with John and without the booze or drugs, sex was the only acceptable vice except pain. The problem with pain is that it was hard to know when to stop. Then again, with Avery it had been impossible to stop too, but for an entirely different reason. She was so responsive, so willing. My dick was still aching in my pants at the feel of her, the control.

  It didn't help that it had been a few months since I had gotten any sort of release that wasn't by my own hand. Heather would show up after work sometimes before she went home to her shit husband. It was wrong, but my body didn't really care. I didn't call her, didn't force her. She wanted to fuck me. With her though I usually had to instigate the rougher aspects of what I wanted. Avery had been the awakening of that need all those years ago and by god, she was still so good at it. My stomach burned from the way she gouged me with her nails. It was exquisite, not enough to shut off my brain completely, but it eased the ache and all the blood in my groin made my head a bit clearer.

  By the time I managed to step out into the cool early evening air I felt calmer than I had in ages. The fix worked quite nicely. It was the wrong girl though. John's daughter was not a choice I should be making for myself. Her body wanted me, that's for sure. She still very much hated me though and it was deserved. I wasn't a good person. I may be sober, but an addict was always an addict. And if John ever found out about high school or even just how badly I wanted to break his daughter's back I would be out on my ass in a heartbeat. I couldn't lose him. For John I needed to be better. For John I needed to bury my dick in someone that wasn't his daughter. Maybe I should call Heather for a change and not the other way around. She would come. I laughed to myself. She'd probably come multiple times.

  I brought back some burgers from the first fast food restaurant I could find. Avery wouldn't look at me when I walked into the room. She just grabbed a burger and bit into it with vigor. I spread out the fries on a napkin on the table between us in the little hospital room as John began to snore in the background. We didn't talk again. She curled into the one chair that folded out into a makeshift cot and I tried to lean back in the world's most uncomfortable straight back chair. I'd slept in worse spots. Strangely enough, the constant hum of the hospital noise put me swiftly to sleep.

  The bottom of the trunk made my small bones ache. I didn't understand. Would she ever let me out of here? What had I done? I shook from the cold. The basement wasn't insulated so the trunk was equally cold. I knew that if I could see, I would be able to see my breath. The tears on my face had cooled. My cheeks were wet. For that matter so were my pants. It had been hours. The air smelled like urine despite the fresh air coming into the holes that were punched into the side. I could see through one of them. Not that it did me any good. There was nothing except darkness. Time passed. I wasn't sure how much. I slept at some point. When Chris finally let me out of the old trunk, he had to bring me water and help me up the stairs. My bruised legs shook under me.

  "Shit!"

  The sharp swear woke me from sleep. My whole body hurt, and I wasn't sure if it was from the memory or the chair. It didn't matter. Avery was looking at me. She winced when our eyes met. Then she went back to trying to clean hot coffee that she had clearly spilled on her navy dress.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

  "It's fine. Any update?"

  She shook her head, and I could see her frustration. I could practically feel it mixed in somewhere with my own.

  "He wakes up, but his eyes won't focus on mine, he just mumbles random words," she said, trying to steady the tremble in her voice. "The doctor said that they are going to discharge him to a rehab center in Junction. I guess the nursing home in town also handles rehab patients. Thank god Dad has disability insurance."

  Most construction workers did. Manual labor jobs were tough on the human body. Better to be prepared for the inevitable injury.

  "They'll let us visit him tomorrow after they get him settled in."

  "Well, that's good," I said with a nod. "I'll have to get back to work soon. John's lawyer should be able to work out the details. I know he signed over some stuff to me in the event of something happening. I've got to take care of the guys and It will be easier to work if I know I can check in with him."

  She gave me a confused look. I guess she didn't know that John had given me that much control. It surprised me too. He had a lot of faith in a drug addict. She didn't have time to say anything else before the EMTs walked in. They had a gurney for transport. They wasted no time moving him onto the stretcher and within ten minutes they were out the door.

  "I guess I should get back to the house and get changed," she said, gesturing to the stain on her dress as she gathered her purse and John's meager belongings- truck keys, wallet, cell phone. "Do you need a ride?"

  I considered saying no and finding my own way back to the house, but that would be stupid. We were going to the same place after all. So instead of wasting our time I nodded my head in agreement. We walked in silence, keeping a wide berth between us, but that space quickly disappeared when we were stuck in the rental car. Thankfully, the smell of new car overpowered everything else so I couldn't smell her perfume or lotion or whatever it was that made her smell so intoxicating. There was just the distinct smell of leather and plastic that caused a sneeze to build. I fumbled in the glove box for napkins, but of course the rental car wouldn't have any, so I settled for sneezing into my shirt. It was just my dumb luck that it caused a nosebleed.

  "Shit!" I said, repeating A
very's early morning sentiment. I immediately unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it off.

  "What are you doing?" She asked, glancing quickly at me and then back to the road.

  "Nosebleed."

  That's all I gave for explanation as I jammed my flannel against my nose to staunch the bleeding. She didn't need to know that I got them frequently. That they were a side effect from the years of cocaine abuse and the random pills I crushed up and snorted. I was on all that long before the heroin. I'd only been on heroin for six months when John had found me. I could only imagine how much worse the withdrawal would have been or the lingering effects if I had started using it earlier. I'm sure my liver was shit. Nosebleeds were the only visible effect of my old life though and I wasn't ready for a doctor to poke at me to tell me all the other shit I had done to wreck my body. My dick still worked. That's pretty much the only thing I cared about.

  Avery cleared her throat, drawing my attention. I hadn't noticed that the air in the car had grown thick as paste. Avery's face was flushing a lovely pink shade. I could swear it was due to my lack of a shirt. I think she was trying very, very hard not to look. She pushed down on the gas pedal and I held back a chuckle.

  "Guess we both need to change now," I said, muffled by my shirt against my mouth. The blood dripped from the shirt onto my chest. I groaned in frustration. "And shower."

  "And shower," she agreed with a laugh. I felt the tension ease in a rush as I laughed with her.