Hurt

I f I thought Jasper was a grouchy dickhole before, now he’s literally giving off steam as his dragon tries to take control. We’re trudging back to Canto IV at the head of the throng of demons escaping the stadium. No one is talking, but Salem and Oriel refused to let me walk without holding onto their arms. Slash growled when I protested and I sighed, giving up the illusion of choice until we’re out of public view.

I’m not sure why they’re so damn worried if the Games don’t start until tomorrow.

“Stop looking at people,” Anton orders as he catches me studying some other demons who are moving in groups.

My nose wrinkles in confusion. “What?”

X spins on their heel, walking backwards as they grin at me. “Demons aren’t like humans or the other supernatural, Kit Kat. We don’t play by strict rules like your kind, so it doesn’t fucking matter if the Games officially start tomorrow.”

“They’ll take me out today for looking at them?” I gape as Dottie squeezes my neck. It shouldn’t really surprise me to find that out, but I’m having a hard time processing at the moment. “And no one would get in trouble?”

“Is he really this dumb? He can’t be this dumb,” Jasper mutters, and I narrow my eyes.

I am so over his shit.

Speeding up, I drop the guys’ hands and stomp up to the prickly asshole and punch him in the kidney. I hiss when my hand hits something that feels like a goddamn brick well, shaking it as he stops and whirls around.

“ What. Is. Your. Problem?”

Sucking in a deep breath, I push all the fury and outrage I’ve felt at being the outsider looking into my voice. “You, Jasper Eversore. You are my fucking problem. I have been patient, and I have been the bigger person?—”

“Not likely, shrimp.”

The others form a circle around the two of us as we stare each other down. No one tries to stop what’s happening, so I glare at the haughty prince. “I am not a shrimp. I’m normal sized, you giant spiked fuckwit.”

Jasper stalks closer, going toe-to-toe with me as I drop my bag on the ground. “Small enough to roast, then snack on, but not an entire meal. Thus, shrimp.”

What the fuck is wrong with him? I’m five foot nine!

“You need a pair of glasses, you royal asswipe.” I lean in, my eyes dark with anger that’s been pent-up far too long. “And maybe some intense therapy because this shit is classic fucking trauma dumping. I’ve been very clear about my boundaries and you… you just trample on them like I’m not worthy.”

He arches a brow, looking at me with equal rage in his yellow eyes. His demon is out to play, and I can’t even find it in me to care. “Look, shrimp. I’ve said it time after time. You don’t matter. There is nothing you could do that would convince me you are worthy of my brothers, much less me. You should go home.”

“Jasper Elias Motherfucking Eversore!” Slash roars as he rears back. “What the actual fuck, man?”

Dottie is clinging to me hard as I back up, looking at him with so much emotion threatening to burst out of me that it scares me. I don’t pick up my bag; I don’t look at anyone but him. Slowly, I walk backward out of the circle until I’m free, then I take off at a run towards the dorm. I haven’t run like this anywhere but a track and… once, in the past, but I don’t have an option.

I have to get away from them.

My throat is tight as I huff and puff, my arms pumping as I ignore the sounds behind me to dart into the throng of people near Canto IV. Ducking my head, I dodge and weave in between people as quickly as I can. I don’t want any of the caliphate to find me. The only way to deal with what’s coming inside of me is to find a nice, quiet, dark spot where I can hide while my body and mind disassemble.

By the time I get to the door of the dorm, I’m sure I lost them. I know going to my room won’t end well, so I walk swiftly through the common area and past the small gaming area to the set of stairs that lead down to the subterranean study rooms. Guaranteed, the guys don’t have a clue these are down on the bottom floor; their rooms are far too large and comfortable for them to seek places beside their rooms to relax. I can hole up in one of these until I get through this attack.

After I’m back in control of my faculties, I can make better decisions about the future.

“Just hold on a little longer, Kit,” I mutter to myself as I scramble down the stairs as quickly as I can. My hand is trembling when I find the knob to the first empty room, turning it before throwing myself inside. My back rests against the hardwood as I pant from both the run and the panic running through me like a freight train.

I sink to my knees, burying my face in my hands as the sobs shudder through me. The stress and pressure from the past few weeks of college uncertainty, the Jamesons, coming here, and everything else crash into me. I topple to the ground, curling into a ball as hot tears run over my cheeks. Crying isn’t really my thing, but my therapist kept saying it would help. Since I don’t have one here, I might as well try whatever I scoffed at in the past.

What the fuck else am I going to do?

Going back to Brett and Allison isn’t an option—not just because Dank burned the bridge to ashes, but because I know too much. The world up there wouldn’t be the same and I didn’t even like my life up there. I wouldn’t be able to transfer from the secret demon school, so I’d have to take whatever job I could until I got better work. With little to no experience and no home, my prospects top side are looking shitty as fuck.

But I can’t stay, can I? Jasper is determined to drive me over the edge and I’m hanging by my fingertips as it is. Even telling him my story didn’t fix his goddamn bullshit, so I know he doesn’t have a shred of humanity in him. He’ll keep coming until I do something I swore I wouldn’t ever do again.

I respect myself too much for that, even if he doesn’t.

Shuffling toward the middle of the room, I splay out on my back in the darkness, then look up at the ceiling, letting the tremors and tears work their magic. If I don’t fight the symptoms, maybe I won’t fall so deeply into the hole and not be able to get out. My eyes close as I whisper the mantras to myself: five things I can smell, four things I can hear, three things I can touch, two things I can see, one thing I can taste… I switch it up, forcing my brain to focus on the answers to those questions rather than the ache in my chest.

I’m not upset that Jasper refuses to see me; there will always be people who don’t accept you. That is a fact of life, and worrying about everyone liking you is a fool’s errand. But his words triggered a response I’ve worked so hard to keep at bay for years. I’m frustrated I couldn’t control it, angry that he saw my emotions, and feeling helpless about how to proceed. My options are severely limited now—especially after that stupid ceremony—and the trust I attempted to give to the others is shriveling inside of me like a dead flower.

For someone with my issues, allowing anyone inside of my heart and mind is damn near impossible. I don’t blame Oriel or X or any of them for his behavior—no, Jasper owns his shit. But my fucked up psyche went into ‘red alert’ mode the moment the slap of betrayal hit me. I don’t know if I can or want to fix that problem. The walls are back up, fortified stronger, and I’m safe inside my little tower if I leave this be.

Is having friends… or whatever… worth taking that risk again? They can’t stop him.

Digging my fingernails into my palms, I sigh in relief at the bite of pain when they break the skin. Sometimes, I need that sensation to get my head on straight during an episode. My therapist said it’s self-destructive, and he’s right, but I don’t give a shit. When you’re headed into the darkness, you’ll use whatever tools you have at hand to stop the descent.

“God, Kit, you sound like a fucking idiot,” I murmur to myself. “Normal people don’t have to lie in the dark scratching themselves to ribbons so they can prevent a goddamn meltdown. No wonder everyone thinks you’re a freak.”

“You’re not a freak.”

My heart rate skyrockets as I gasp, scrambling to a sitting position so I can scoot as far away from it as possible. Fear floods my system—I’m alone, in the dark, after they announced a ‘to the death’ competition in Hell.

How stupid am I?

“No,” the smirking voice drawls as I hear footsteps come closer and see glowing green eyes floating in the pitch black. “You’re a little bitch boy who strayed way too far from his keepers.”

A chorus of Beavis it’s the fucking first rule of ‘foster care fight club.’

No one gets your screams.

A fist crashes into my jaw, followed by kicks hitting my ribs, and I clamp my mouth shut hard. Every blow feels like they’re using goddamn Thor hammers, but I don’t let even a whimper escape.

“Boy, this little bitch likes it rough. No wonder Eversore and his freaks wanted him all to themselves.”

My beating continues, and I let myself float away, rising above the battering of my body by whoever these abusive shitstains are. If all they do is beat me, I can take that. I’ve survived so much worse than this. I have to stay in the happy place and it will all be okay.

The sound of a belt opening stops my heart and my breath in my chest. I know that sound; I know it like a dog knows the sound of a whistle from far away. Tears gather in the corner of my eyes as clothes rustle above me—more than one set. I grit my teeth, unable to get to the last blade between my breasts because hands are pinning my limbs. Spots dance in front of my eyes as the true descent into the black pit begins…my mind knows I’m about to be re-traumatized and it’s protecting me.

“Get the fuck away from him!”

The room lights up and I blink in confusion as I’m blinded. I slam them closed again, squeezing hard to mitigate the stars in my vision. A roar like none I’ve ever heard in my life fills the entire space, vibrating over my skin as the hands holding me down disappear. Loud, crunching sounds and screams echo off the walls, and all I can do is roll to my side. Tucking myself into a tiny ball, trembling fingers grasp the razor blade from my binder, gripping it hard in case the intruder comes for me next. More cracks and the sound of breaking bones signal the final stages of the surrounding battle, but I don’t open my eyes when all the noise fades to my soft pants and a low rumbling snarl.

Suddenly, the temperature in the room ratchets up, and the smell of burning flesh is in my nostrils. I gag, coughing with my head aimed at the ground so I don’t choke on vomit if it comes up.

“Ah, fuck, don’t fucking puke,” the voice says.

It sounds like it’s at the top of a well and I shudder slightly. I have to come back from the place I’m in to interact with actual people. The galloping of my heart doesn’t want to, but I’ve always known I can’t stay in the safe place forever. That way, madness lies.

“I’m… not… trying… to.” My voice is raspy, little more than a croak because of the heat in the air. When I pry my lids open, I almost pass out from shock.

Kneeling beside me in the most awkward position possible is a half-shifted Prince Eversore, the dick who sent me running here in a panic, and the room behind him is full of flames.

Did I die? I must have, right?

“Can I help you up?”

The question has me reeling—since when does this fuckhead ask anyone permission? But I nod slowly because I doubt I’ll be able to stand on my own in this state. I’m fucked up—mentally and physically—and the room is goddamn en fuego , so we need to get the hell out. “Y-yes.”

Jasper takes my hand gently, then my elbow, supporting me as I do my damnedest to make sure he doesn’t hear a single sound of complaint. I’m not giving him my screams, either. He sure as fuck hasn’t earned them. Once I’m upright, he offers his arm for me to lean on without saying one nasty word.

I definitely died.

Unfortunately, the first steps I take are a bust, and he heaves a deep, irritated sigh. “I’ll have to carry you. Those corpses are going to catch the rest of this place on fire soon. You, shrimp, are flammable, even if I am not.”

“Okay.”

That’s all I got because he hauls me into his arms, stomping out of the room like a scaly firefighter. He doesn’t look back and I consider asking him who the hell those guys were. Worrying my bloody lip with my teeth, I decide knowing feels like it might be worse than not, so I’ll have to save that truth for later.

“Stop that.” His grunt makes me focus again, and I look up at him with a dazed expression. “You’re making it worse.”

I shrug, but that hurts like a motherfucker. “It helps me.”

“Well, don’t. You’re going to Dr. D’s. The rest of the idiots will meet us there.”

A soft chitter sounds and my eyes widen as Dottie scampers along behind the dragon demon with a big grin.

Well, I’ll be damned—I actually got saved by a fucking kinkajou.

What are the odds?