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Yes, before today, I had been craving the abuse that Brock gave me. It helped me not to think about what I was missing with Beau but seeinghim this morning brought everything back. I don't want to be that girl I am when Beau isn't around. I want to be the girl I am when Beauis around, even when he's not.
I don't know how I'm going to break free of Brock. With Bain backing him, I don't have a chance.What is it that Bain hopes to gain by keeping me compliant? This is what I need to figure out if I'm ever going to be able to free myself.
Once my feet touch the floor, I silently tiptoe into my bathroom and find what I'm looking for before slipping from the room altogether. I skip the squeaky step going down and make it to the second floor without incident. I continue, trying to be as quiet as possible as I descend the last flight of stairs and head for the back of the Manor. With everyone asleep, I'll have some privacy for a little bit.
The bathroom at the end of the hall, and just past the home gym, will work well for what I need to do. Flipping the switch on the wall, the room lights up, letting me take in what the room has to offer. Even though there is a padded bench, I opt for the tiled floor of the stand-up shower.
I step into the single stall and let my back slide down the cold tiled wall until my ass hits the floor. My oversized t-shirt slides up past my hips, and I stare down at my scar-riddled thighs. I don't think I've ever hated these scars more than I do right now. Mainly because I'm about to add to them. I open my palm to reveal the razor I took from the medicine cabinet in my bathroom.
My mind goes back to when I last cut myself. It was the same day I met Brock. I was buying more gauze and bandages in the store when I bumped into him. The friendship was instant, and I desperately needed it at that time. We were having an Indian Summer that year, and it was unusually warm for October, so I was in shorts and a tank top.
I never thought much of what I was doing, so when Brock noticed the cuts on my inner thighs and saw the medical supplies in my hands, he immediately knew that I was going through some shit. That's when he offered me my first pill, and the friendship bloomed from there.
I don't realize I'm crying until a tear drops onto the bare, fleshy part of my thigh. I don't wipe at my face. Instead, I let all my frustrations out. The razor's sharp edge stands poised with the tip pressing into my flesh. With just a little bit of pressure, the pain accompanying the intrusion into my skin gives me just a touch of the bliss I need to feel right now.
"Will I ever know happiness again?" I look to the ceiling as I ask out loud, "Or is that brief time with Beau all I'm allowed in this lifetime?"
I don't expect an answer, even though one would have been nice. I haven't really talked to the big guy upstairs since my father died. Why I think now would be a good time to do so is beyond me. Sighing, I close my eyes and move the blade down a mere inch. I've forgotten how much pain it produces, and I can't help the slight gasp as I feel it slice through my flesh.
Glancing down, I watch as the blood begins to pool before repeating the action in a different spot. Cut after cut, the pressure fogging my senses begins to lessen, and I start to relax. Tears still flow freely. Not because it hurts but because of what I've lost.
"What the fuck are you doing, Ry?" His whispered words are slow to resonate.
I open my eyes slowly and see Beau standing there, shirtless, wearing only workout shorts and sneakers.He is such a handsome mirage; I smile up at him. It isn't until he sits beside me when I start to make another cut and my hand stills as something warm wraps around it that I come out of my stupor to realize that Beau really is here with me.
"Don't do this, Ryan, please…" he begs and lifts my hand away from my thigh.
"Beau…"
"Why?" his pained voice breaks me.
"You left me…"
"I had no choice." He presses his forehead against mine. "I wrote you trying to apologize, but you never wrote me back. I assumed I lost you by leaving the way I did."
His words sober me up. "I never got a letter, Beau. Your father wouldn't give me your address either."
Beau curses, "That son of a bitch! I should have known…"
"Beau." I look into his green eyes. "I've never stopped loving you. You have to believe me."
He studies my face momentarily. "Brock…"
"Means nothing, just a means to take the edge off…that's it, I swear." I plead for him to believe me.
"Whyhim, though? How did you know that you wouldn't cave and use again?" He grabs a towel from close by and presses it against my bleeding cuts.
"Because." I stay his hand with mine until he looks into my eyes again. "I love you too much, and I didn't want to disappoint you like that."
"So, what? You go and fuck someone that you know I hate?" He doesn't say it with anger like one would think. He's honestly wanting to understand.
"I don't know anyone else, and then there is your father who did…"
Beau's body tenses. "What the fuck did my father do? Did he touch you, Ryan?"
"No! Well, yes, but not in the way you think…"
"He shouldn't be touching you inany way, Ryan!" Now he's getting angry. "Tell me right now, baby." He cups my cheek, curling his fingers around the back of my neck.
