Page 55 of Haven

It was my own fault. It never mattered how she made me feel, how I made her feel or her confession that night. If she loved me, she wouldn’t have torn my heart out, stomping on it like it was worthless. Fuck. God, I fucking hated women.

I stormed to the gym, not grabbing my gloves and going straight for the punching bag. My therapist told me to focus my anger on healthy alternatives instead of bottling it up and letting it fester. Raw-dogging a worn punching bag after being rejected yet again seemed to be my favorite form of self-torture.

The first punch was electrifying. My knuckles cracked against the worn punching bag, and the impact sent a jolt through my entire body. This was exactly what I needed. I pulled my fist back and struck again, harder this time, letting my anger pour into the bag with each blow. My punches were primal, like a beast slowly tearing out of my body, exorcising all the chaos with it. My bare knuckles ached from the constant jabs, but I didn’t care.

My breath came faster, steady and full of rage. This was not helping, it wasn’t enough. I felt my knuckles split with the next impact. The frustration, the heaviness, the goddamn trauma…the sense of powerlessness. It was all ticking up like a bomb about to explode. Why did my past have to come back to bite me in the ass? What did I do to deserve this? If he was going to send someone after me later, why didn’t he just kill me?

One more punch sent a sting of pain radiating up my arm, all the way to my spine. A string of curses spilled from my lips, and I stomped away from the bag to the paper towel dispenser. I cleaned the wound and wrapped the cloth around it, grunting at the throbbing pinch it provoked. This was why sex was my form of endorphins and anger release. Angry sex would be killer, but that involved driving to Crestview, and right now, that was an even more horrible idea than usual.

The gym door opened and Vesper walked in, wearing nothing but tiny shorts and a sports bra. I groaned, glaring at the roof to whatever God was watching me, mocking me, as I mentally cursed them. Vesper was the second to last person I wanted to see right now, especially when she looked like sex in sneakers, dripping in temptation. My mind was not in the right headspace.

Fucking hell, why did she have to look that sinful?

“Mariposa? You okay?”

No I was not fucking okay. Instead of yelling at her, I stormed towards her, pulling her into me, and slammed my lips to hers in a scorching hot kiss. She didn’t pull away from me; instead, she kissed me back with the same amount of desperation and need. Vesper would regret it later, but right now, I was enjoying every part of her.

My hands tugged at her sports bra, and thank you to whoever put zippers in front of them. I unzipped it, letting her breasts spill free before ripping my lips from hers and popping a nipple into my mouth. Her moan was like a sweet symphony. I did the same to the other one, and then pushed her against a wall.

“Rory,” she moaned, and I swore my soul left my body. “Mariposa, this is playing in dangerous waters.”

“Then I’m ready to drown, baby.” And I dove in.

Of course, that was the exact moment the universe decided to shit on my Cheerios.

The gym door opened yet again, and if it had been anyone else, I would be fine. Vesper tensed under my touch and cursed under her breath. Well fuck me sideways.

“What are you doing?” Cinder roared, rage heating her pale complexion. The question was directed towards both of us, but I knew Vesper would get the shitty end of the stick.

“I’m kissing V.”

“Go,” she growled. She fucking growled. “Vesper. Get the fuck out of here, now!”

V gave me a sympathetic look, zipping up her sports bra.

“Why do you always fucking do that?” I hissed at Cinder.

“I don’t need to kill my own people if they end up hurting you!” she yelled. “Do you not fucking remember what happened before?”

Of course I fucking remember what happened. I was the one who had to live through it. Morgan tried to rape me. But Vesper and Widow wouldn’t do that. Cinder thought I would shatter or do something stupid if I had one goddamn heartbreak.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Why won’t you let me fucking choose what I can and can’t do? Let me make mistakes so I can learn from them. I’m a grown ass woman, Cinder! Heartbreak won’t fuckin’ kill me!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “You say you’re protecting me, but you take everything good away from me.”

“I am taking care of you, Rory! Someone is after you, and here you are fucking around instead of focusing! You running off to Crestview doesn't help anything either!” Our screaming match seemed to bring people into the gym, Widow amongst them. “I need you to stop acting like a fucking child and actually focus on what’s at stake! I’m trying to protect you, damnit!”

“No, you’re not. You’re protecting her. I’m not the abused, broken little girl anymore. I write my own fucking fairytale. You’re acting just like Mom and ruining my fucking life!”

My big sister stumbled back like I’d punched her. That was the worst insult I could throw at her. You’re acting just like Mom. Just like our drug-addicted, abusive mother. “Rory,” she whispered.

“No! I hate you. You should’ve just let Jude kill me if you were just going to dictate my life, too.” And with that, I ran out of there and found my keys. I had put the nail in the coffin by comparing her to Mom and my abuser under the same breath. That would haunt me later, but right then, I could not care less.

I wanted a sister, not someone who would control my entire fucking life. I wanted freedom. I wanted control over my own life. She was always worried about me and I got it, I fucking did, but she was stifling. I had been abused. Molested and tormented by a monster, but Cinder gave me the chance to be free, only to keep out of reach the one thing I needed, and that was power. Power to decide. Power to be myself, to love who I wanted to. To make my own fucking mistakes without fear that she’d kill everything that touched me.

I grabbed a random jacket from the hook, and thankfully it fit me as I hightailed it to my bike. There was a final destination, but I wouldn’t go there just yet. I needed to breathe for a moment before seeing Hades. I just wanted everything to stop and be able to breathe. I wanted my life back.

There was yelling behind me as I hit the gas. Riding was not safe when emotions were fried, but I needed to get out of there. I revved the throttle, the engine roaring louder, but still not nearly enough to drown the echoing chaos in my head. The wind rushed past me, slapping at my face, but I hardly felt it. My eyes were blurry, tears mingling with the sweat on my skin. It was like my mind was on fire, everything burning and too loud. This was why I slept with women, why I pretended to be okay when everything was falling apart inside my head.

Fuck.