Page 136 of Taking Turns

I am losing myself in this game we’re playing.

The diamonds around my throat are choking me with lust.

Everything is going black and I don’t care. I am gone. I am lost. I no longer exist. It’s just me and my sickness. My disgusting sickness. The addiction I’ve been pushing away for so long overtakes me again. And I’m floating in ecstasy as I beg. I beg and it fills me with shame. All the shame that should’ve prevented me from going through with this in the first place.

And I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I just want… more. I’m saying it. Screaming it. “More, more, more.”

I hear them talking to me. Barking out commands.

But I don’t care. I just want to give in. “Just one more time, I promise. Just one more time and I’ll be good. I swear. I will. Just one more—”

Everything stops. The black recedes.

“No,” I hear myself saying. I’m crying. I’m sobbing. “No, no, no. Don’t stop! Please—”

A hard slap across my face makes me stop.

Another, and another.

I begin to breathe again. Sucking down air as so many hands take control of me.

So many hands.

On my face, More slaps.

I am lifted up. Carried somewhere.

“Don’t stop,” I sob. “I swear I’ll never do it again. I promise. Just don’t—”

“Chella!”

Smith’s loud shout finally reaches my ears.

He’s holding me. Cradling me like a baby as I cry.

I don’t know how long I stay like that. But when I realize that I’m not really alone. That they are all still there. I open my eyes and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Quin is the first face I see. He’s leaning against me, petting my hair. His eyes are red and worried. Like he’s upset and that just makes me want to cry more.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Shh,” Quin says. “Just…” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “Just be still now, Chella. We’re here. We’ve got you.”

I look over and find Bric. He’s got his hand up to his chin like he’s thinking very hard about me. He gives me a weak smile and then sits down on the bed. I’m in a bed, I realize. Bric is touching my face, his cool fingers so good against my cheek. “Are you OK?”

“That’s enough,” Smith says. He’s still holding me in his arms, his hard chest against my bare back. He pulls me even tighter and says it again. “That’s enough. Leave us alone for a little bit.”

We sit there in the dark quiet. I breathe because that’s the only thing I know how to do. Inhale. Exhale.

“I want to go home,” I finally say.

I feel Smith nod underneath me. But then he stops. “No.”

“I really need to go home.”