Page 33

“Stop it!” My scream is more choking on my own air than words. “Stop it, please.” The words dissolve into broken breaths.

Every time I blink, my eyes burn and… and my hands, and my neck, they’re—

I hear a loud rasp on my door, and my heart pounds painfully.

I still.

I didn’t do it today—there’s no blood on the floor to give me away. I scramble to my feet, only for a sharp pain to tear through my inner thighs. A whine escapes before I can bite it back.

“Fuck.” I whisper, forcing a slow breath into my lungs, willing my pulse to settle.

Another knock. “Elara!”

I freeze mid-step. The Russian accent slipping through the cracks of his carefully controlled, calm voice.

No.

No, not him.

“Elara, open the door.”

I move as fast as someone who’s been bleeding for three days can. Every step tears at my thighs, and I hate myself for every single one of them.

I’m pathetic.

A fucking coward.

Fucking loser, you should just die and stop torturing yourself once and for all.

“Open the door or I’m breaking it.” That’s all the warning I get before the door creaks once, twice. I hear a loud bang and the thick wooden barrier between us falls with a brash thud right in front of me.

My eyes dart towards the large imposing presence, my mouth open, as I unabashedly gape at him.

His gaze sweeps over me, over my face, my hands, my trembling legs, finally settling on my neck.

What?

Can he see blood on me? I’m draped in a black full sleeves tee and sweatpants a size too big for my frame.

No way he can tell.

“S-Sergei.” I mumble beneath my breath, but he only narrows his eyes at me. Is he looking for something?

Well, I don’t have it. Unless he’s searching for self-loathing or suicidal thoughts.

“You…” He draws in a slow breath, as if physically forcing the words back down. Rage coils beneath his composure, his fingers tightening into a fist. “Why are you here?”

Wait…What?

“Umm…” I gesture vaguely around the flat. “It’s my house.”

Silence.

“If not here…” I point at the floor beneath my feet. “… then where?” A smile finds my lips before I can stop it. Smiling is easy, it’s the one lie my face has perfected.

“Why aren’t you at the campus?” he stalks in my direction. He lifts his hands, gently tucking my stray hair behind my ears.

It’s such a lovely gesture that I’m lost for a minute too long to notice that his searching, curious eyes have turned murderous.