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“Mason.”
His throat bobs with a swallow.
“Mason!” This time, when his name punches out of me, I surge forward, and grab his shoulders.
His eyes snap up, wild and panicked, darting all over my face. But it’s as if he’s not even seeing me.
What…
His gaze snaps to the right—my left—and he’s grabbing my arm, just above the elbow.
I say his name again, but this time, it’s barely even a murmur. With my hand still on his shoulder, it takes nothing at all for him to shove my sleeve up. It’s baggy and loose and easily bunches around my elbow, exposing all my sins for him in a watercolor collage of red and pink.
It doesn’t feel so satisfying right now, to see the evidence.
This time when his gaze snaps to mine, it’s hard and accusatory. And I feel something in me shrinking back, my chest caving in as I try to make myself smaller.
Wincing, I look down, blond hair hanging over my face. “It’s not what you think.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
At the unexpected roughness of his voice, my gaze snaps up, peering at him through stringy gold hair. My mouth parts, but nothing comes out.
“What the fuck is this?” he grits out, and while he sounds furious—and he no doubt is—I can’t help but notice the tremor in his voice. In his fingers gripping me too.
Suddenly, he’s dragging me by the forearm over to the sink, keeping my wrist and hand elevated. He kicks on the faucet, and shoves my bloodied hand underneath the cold stream of water.
I flinch when he twists my arm, lifting the inside of my wrist right up to the water, but he either doesn’t notice or ignore me. The sting is quick to fade, and I watch as pink water floods the basin, before swirling down slowly…too slowly.
Izzy and her stupid hair clogging the drain.
“This might need stitches,” Mason says flatly.
“No. It doesn’t.”
He scoffs, and it’s not a very nice sound.
“It’s nothing,” I say before I can think better of it.
The fingers still gripping me just under the inside of my elbow turn bruising, and I wince. “You’re hurting me.”
With those three words, he releases me like I burned him.
Shaking my head, I twist and turn my hand and wrist, ensuring all the blood smears have been washed off.
Footsteps retreat, and I can sense him watching, waiting…for what, who knows?
Grabbing one of the folded washcloths off to the side, I press it down on my wrist.
“I didn’t mean to go this deep. You startled me. I slipped,” I say in a monotone voice. “It was just an accident.” And while I’m aware my voice sounds far from convincing, I do mean it.
When my words are met with nothing but silence, I lift my head, finding Mason in the mirror. His face is downturned once more, so I can’t even try to make out what he’s thinking. Though, if the ticking of his jaw is anything to go by, he’s still assuming the worst.
Turning, I rest my lower back against the counter and sigh. “Mason, look at me.”
A beat passes, but he finally does as I say, and my stomach bottoms out when I see the agonized look in his eyes.
“Mase…” I shake my head. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”
