His palm flattened against my chest, cupping my breast through the cotton of my hoodie. The pressure was firm, possessive—thumb brushing, over the peak like he was testing my response. There was none.
He made a low sound in his throat—half groan, half sigh—like my stillness was permission.
Then his hand moved to the waistband of my sweatpants. Fingers slipped beneath the elastic, cool against the warm skin of my stomach, then lower still. He didn’t rush; he savored the slide, knuckles grazing pubic bone before dipping inside the fabric entirely. The intrusion was slow, intimate, wrong in a way that finally cracked through the haze.
Ice.
It hit me like a bucket dumped over my head—sharp, shocking, freezing every sluggish nerve awake at once. The fog didn’t vanish, but it tore open just enough for revulsion to flood in behind it.
His fingers curled, seeking.
“No,” I rasped.
The word came out small, cracked, barely audible, but it was mine.
I grabbed his wrist—weakly at first, then harder, nails digging into skin. My arm felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, but I forced it anyway, yanking his hand out of my pants and shoving it away from me.
“Stop.”
The second word was louder, rawer, scraping up from somewhere deep and furious.
Ruslan froze. His eyes flicked to mine, surprise flashing there for the first time—real surprise, not the lazy confidence he’d worn seconds ago.
I pushed myself up on trembling elbows, then all the way to sitting. The room tilted viciously; I had to brace one hand on the mattress to keep from collapsing sideways. My chest heaved like I’d run miles instead of just sitting up.
“Don’t,” I said again, quieter this time, but steady. “Don’t touch me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think that cold bastard gives a shit about you? Don’t be stupid.”
I pressed a hand to my temple, heart pounding in a rhythm that didn’t feel like mine. “I think he does,” I whispered, confused by the sound of my own voice. My head tipped slightly, eyes unfocused. “Doesn’t he?” I asked the room, or maybe myself.
He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, disbelief dripping from every movement.“You’re seriously telling me he loves you? Has he ever said it? Out loud? Or are you just filling in the blanks with your own delusion?”
I pushed myself off the bed, wobbling like my legs belonged to someone else. The words hit hard, but I couldn’t answer.
Because no. He hadn’t.
But that didn’t mean—
“Wake the fuck up,” Ruslan growled. “You were a game to him. A distraction. He’s not crying over you—he’s out there probably balls-deep in someone else as we speak.”
The words hit like a blade to the gut. Something inside tore wide open. The drug surged again, heat and static crawling under my skin, slicing deeper than before. My thoughts scattered, like broken glass on tile. My heart clawed and screamed and sobbed in silence. Was I a game? Just a way to pass time? He never said he loved me, but I thought he showedit. I thought I felt it. Or maybe that was just the drugs. Just the ache. Just my own pathetic hope.
A wave of cold sweat flooded me, my vision smearing as the world tipped sideways. Time stretched and folded in on itself, and for what felt like forever I couldn’t breathe. I backed into the wall, nails scraping, as agony clawed through my chest, savage and consuming—worse than anything I’d felt before.
Ruslan pushed off the bed, stalking toward me with a look that made my stomach turn. One hand rose, brushing my cheek—then, without warning, he shoved me hard, pinning me with his body, caging me in like a predator playing with its prey.
The contact jolted me. But I was still too slow. Too high.
Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t stop them.
“Let me love you,” he murmured, voice low like a plea wrapped in poison.
I tried to pull back, but all I managed was a slow, clumsy shake of my head. “I c-can’t,” I slurred, blinking hard. “I’ll never… never love you.”
His expression darkened into something monstrous. He seized my face with both hands, his grip already bruising. “You ungrateful little bitch. You drain everyone around you. I give and give and give and you just take. That’s all you do. Take. You think you deserve love? You think he loves you? No one ever fucking could.”
My chest heaved. “Stop,” I sobbed, weak and desperate.
