34. 34

34

Ember

I ’d wanted to push him, hadn’t I? And now I was sore in so many places, and I felt raw inside. Not down there, but emotionally. I was emotionally raw. He’d forced me, and he’d been rough, brutal, cruel. Would there ever be a time when he’d do it without malice in his heart, or was this the only way? Would I have to drive him to it, messing with him until he cracked, and did it out of anger every time? Could he not just see that we were meant for each other?

I finally managed to get up and stagger to the hallway, finding his bedroom door closed. He was in there though, because I could hear him. There was crashing and yelling, and something hit the door hard enough to make me jump, and then it suddenly fell silent in there. No wait, not silent.

I pushed the door open, wincing at the wreckage of the room, furniture upended, bedding everywhere, and in the midst of the destruction was Ethan. He was sitting back against the foot of the trashed bed, his head down, and huge wrenching sobs tore out of him as he pulled at his hair.

“Ethan?”

He didn’t hear me at first, so I stepped into the room, and on the third try, he heard me, his head shooting up just enough for him to fix me with a damn near feral glare.

“You,” he hissed, watching me tentatively approach him. When I was only a few feet away, he suddenly shot up from the floor, grabbing me and wrestling me back down with him, his body wrapped around mine.

I panicked at first, thinking he was attacking me again, but instead, he held me, rocking me, kissing my head, and sobbing the word 'sorry' over and over. I think I’d broken him completely, and I was devastated at the thought. I didn’t want him broken, I just wanted him desperate for me. I wanted him released from the boundaries he thought he had to live by. I wanted him at peace with the decision that having me was the right thing to do.

All I could do was try wrapping my arms around him, holding him just as tightly as he held me, stroking his arm over and over while he slowly calmed down.

“I always thought I’d be a good man,” he finally whispered against my hair. “I was raised by good people.”

I waited for more words, but he fell silent again for so long that I wondered if he’d fallen asleep, except that his grip on me hadn’t loosened at all.

“Ethan?”

“Where did they go wrong though? This had to be in me all along, right?”

“Ethan? What are you talking about?”

He kissed my head again, and released me, sitting up and watching me follow suit.

“I hurt you. Your throat… your… Jesus … those are my teeth-marks.” He stared pulling at his hair again. “I’m a fucking monster. I’m sorry, Em. I’m so fucking sorry.” He stood up and reached down to help me up, then he walked me to the door, with a firm hand at my back.

“Get out.” What?

I turned to try and talk to him and he slammed the door in my face, and before I could open it again, I heard something heavy being dragged, bumping against the door.

“Ethan?”

“I’m staying in here where I can’t hurt you again. Call your dads. Have them take you home, and… yeah, either leave me here, or kill me. I don’t care.”

What the hell?

“Ethan, no. Let me back in there. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not risking you getting hurt even worse. Stay away from me.”

“You need to eat or something. You can’t just be shut in there. What about the bathroom?”

“GO!”

Shit. I walked back to my room and dialled a number on my phone, because I had no idea what the hell to do. While I waited for my call to be answered, I lifted the rug and false floorboard, digging out a bathrobe to put on.

“Yo.”

I had the call on speaker, while I replaced the floorboard and rug.

“Blaze, I need help.”

“I’m on my fucking way. I’m killing the fucker, right?” He was practically growling at me, but I yelled his name to shut him up.

“Blaze!”

“What? You said you need help, ergo, that fucker is hurting you and you want me to dispose of him. I’ll bring all my sharpest stabby stuff.”

“No. I need you to talk to him.”

He laughed, but realised eventually that I wasn’t laughing with him.

“You’re serious? What the fuck can I possibly talk to him about?”

I pulled my robe tighter, cinching the belt in a knot.

“I think… I think he might have had some kind of breakdown, and I don’t know how to help him. He barricaded himself in his room.”

I heard a door slam and then his car starting up, before he spoke again.

“Tell me everything, and I mean that. Don’t hold anything back, or I can’t help. Ha. Like I can help anyone.”

Ethan

THE WORST THING ABOUT being locked in this place, and barricaded in my fucking room, is that I had no way to do what I now knew I needed to. See, I’d turned into a rabid dog, hadn’t I? Even fucking biting Ember, like she somehow deserved to be treated that way.

Something had cracked inside my mind, and the only solution was to remove the threat to her safety. I mean, besides herself, because that was exactly what I was trying to avoid. No, I had to remove me from her life. That’s hard to do when you’re locked in a place, but see, all I needed was something sharp, and time to bleed out.

Sure, she’d be upset, but then she’d come to realise that she’d fooled herself into believing I was worth being around. She’d realise that I was nothing but a fucking monster, who hurt her for the sake of hurting her.

Every time I’d lashed out at her, I hadn’t needed to, but that line between me being normal and me losing my fucking mind, was just too easy to cross. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t control it, and the only way to make sure I didn’t hurt her again, was to end my life now. To protect her.

I eventually found what I needed, and it was all down to my little tantrum, so apparently that had been a good idea, right? I’d broken a mirror. That part didn’t bother me, because what possible further bad luck could befall a guy who was about to die, right?

I could wait for Ember’s dads, but to be honest, I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. They didn’t deserve to make this choice for me. It was mine to make.

I moved into the far corner of the room, eyeing the pale carpet regretfully, because it was about to be destroyed. Before I could talk myself out of it, I used the jagged piece of broken glass to slash across my left wrist. I hissed out a gasp at the burning pain, and transferred the glass to my other hand, already noting how they were trembling. Fear? Panic? Knowledge of impending death? I had no idea.

I sliced through the skin on my other wrist and dropped the shard of mirror beside me, leaning back against the wall. Let the Cross family explain this mess I was making, because they’d caused it. Every drop of this blood was ultimately on their hands.

The blood wasn’t flowing as fast as I’d expected, but it was making me feel lightheaded already, or maybe that was just the knowledge that my life force was bleeding out of me.

As my eyes started to drift closed, I heard a loud bang, but I didn’t have the strength to force my eyes back open again, as the darkness descended fully.