“I thought you liked pain.”
“I-I do but not…” He wails as he looks at his hand, the fingers curling as blood pools and falls between them. His gaze trips over the knife and his head rocks like it’s taking everything he has to stay conscious. “You can’t do this to me. Don’t you know who I am?”
Laughter escapes me. “Oh, I know full well who you are. Unfortunately for you, I don’t give a fuck.”
His restraints clatter as he uncovers a new well of strength thatswiftly fades as he whimpers. “I’ll give you anything you want! Just let me go.”
Avoiding the puddles of piss and blood, I step closer to him, so close that he can feel my words etch themselves into his skin, until his stench fills my nostrils. “You didn’t think I forgot about the bruises your son left on my woman, did you?”
His eyes widen. So wide it’d be comical in other circumstances. His chest stutters and overly large teardrops fall down his cheeks. “Please, I’m begging you!”
“For more?” I stroke my fingers over the knife’s handle.
“No, no, NO!”
I twist the blade and, over his roar of agony, ruminate, “This is one place consent doesn’t count.”
THIRTEEN
WHEN I GROW UP, I WANT TO BE A TSUNAMI
It makessense that when I’m alone, I have a chance to process things. To think.
Maxim takes up so much space—not just mattress-wise, but life-wise. He’s an energy vortex. My man enters a room and the oxygen levels drop. But when he leaves you, you’re out in the cold and on your own.
Having seen Camille go through a panic attack, I know the signs and the protocol.
Shay wasn’t awake when I got back, so I don’t want to stumble through the house in search of a paper bag. It’s less about me caring that his wake-up call would be me sucking down air like it’s gone out of fashion and more that I know he’ll fuss.
He might,just might, judge.
And I’m not sure how to cope with that.
Which, of course, leads to more panicked mouthfuls of air that have zero effect on me.
I hurl myself to the edge of my bed, where I’d been messing around watching some dumb shit on my phone, and dunk my head between my knees.
I force myself to stay calm.
I can do this.
I can breathe.
I’m a big girl.
I’m a murderer.
Fuck you, tunnels!
“Won’t let. Steal. Vision.” I gasp.
Calm down.
Take it slow.
I can do anything I set my mind to.
Getting mad at myself only makes the damn attack linger, but eventually, I find a balance.
