I wanted to believe him. But so many people had tried to help me before, and they had left. Given up. Dismissed me. It was one search after another. Nothing was ever as solid as it seemed.
Grant held me with those eyes, urging me to believe him. He may have been a bodyguard, a hired hitman, a man so strong he could kill me instantly, but when I refused his help with all of my might, he still tried to guide me.
“Fine,” I said. I shrugged my shoulders. “Just stop your nagging.”
I stormed down the hallway and went to my room. I found my old purse. I wanted a shower, but not as badly as I wanted pain. As I needed it,now. A burning agony that would make everything disappear. My reset button. My escape.
I closed my purse, but not before noticing that the wallet was thick with bills. I didn’t take time to think about why I suddenly had money, if Iowedit to my sister, scar-face, or to Grant. All I wanted was to go to the bar and find some asshole that wouldn’t blink twice if I told him to hit me. I needed to feel something before the panic set in and I had to face the fact that I would be living with the enemy. Literally. This man could have killed me before. All it took was the order from his boss. For all I knew, he still would.
What did it matter if I picked up a stranger and gave into my masochistic itch? Who cared if that’s how I ended up losing a bet to Eric, how I found myself with Dean, or why I wound up in horrifying situations so many times before? My instinct knew only this: seek out a physical torment so strong that my brain couldn’t process it, and instead transformed the pain into comfort.
Even when the world was dark, when nothing else was left, I went with my impulses. They were the only things that stayed with me.
