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“Incident?” Ronan snorted. “You can’t really say that what happened was only an incident. What those sick bastards did to you....”
“You can’t get involved!” I hissed, not even caring when my voice came out in a desperate plea. “You don’t understand what my family will do to you-”
“And you don’t seem to understand what they do to you,” Calax broke in. Before I could retort, he grabbed my hand. I expected his hand to feel rough on my skin, but despite his many callouses, his touch was unexpectedly gentle. “Or maybe you do understand,” he murmured. His finger traced one of the many scars adorning my arm.
“Did you do this to yourself?” Asher asked, his voice sounding uncharacteristically loud in the sudden quiet of the room. Everybody seemed to await my answer with bated breaths.
My voice was just as low when I responded with, “It’s none of your business.”
This felt too intimate, too private, to share with a group of strangers. It was my pain,mine, and it was a secret I’d managed to keep for years. Didn’t I deserve to have something all to myself? Something that was mine and mine alone? I was both terrified and angry that these boys had taken that from me.
From their anguished expressions, they were able to pick apart my words and uncover the truth.
Refusing to wallow in the pity party about to happen, I clapped my hands.
“Now back to the important issues. You guys. And what I mean by that is you guys getting the hell out of here as fast as you can. No arguments? Good. Now leave. Pack your bags. I’m sure you can find a nice little hotel to house your sorry asses until your school is fixed.”
The boys surprised me by chuckling. They actually chuckled, as if they found me amusing when I had been deadly serious.
“Not happening, Princess.”
“We’re staying with you, Kitten.”
“You’re so adorable when you think we’re going to leave.”
I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. There was a slight sting from the burns, now wrapped in bandages, but nothing I couldn’t live with. The drugs helped to numb the pain. Speaking of drugs…
Maybe I could get my hands on a drug I could use to knock them out. Granted, it would be difficult to carry their fat asses (muscular, well-defined asses) out of the resort, but I had connections. I mean, it wouldn’t count as kidnapping if I was doing it for their own good, right?
A hand waving in front of my face interrupted my musings..
Jolting back, I turned towards Declan.
His hands moved rapidly as he signed to me.
“You’re an idiot if you think we’ll leave you after everything that happened. Now quit your bitching and allow us to help you.”
All I could do was stare at him, stunned. Slightly breathless, I said, “That was the longest sentence you have ever signed to me in my life. Does this mean we’re best friends now?”
He rolled his eyes at me. Of course that meant we were best friends. Only best friends would roll their eyes at one another.
Totally nailed it.
“Do you ever take things seriously?” Tamson asked with sincerity. It threw me for a loop, and I paused to consider my response before speaking.
“Sometimes, but it hurts me more when I do,” I admitted. When the guys gave me flabbergasted expressions, I hurried to explain. “I have spent my entire life failing to meet my parents’ expectations. As you can see, I’m punished almost daily for these failures. Some days are worse than others. Because of this, I’ve never had any friends or anyone to confide in. Well, the one friend I did have was killed in a car accident.” Tears burned my eyes at the memory, and I heard a sharp intake of breath. I didn’t look to see which boy made the sound. “It was my fault. Everything is always my fault, because I bring it on myself - that’s what my parents drilled into me. If I so much as sat the wrong way, I would get beaten. If I talked to one of the residents, my father would send one of his business partners to my room...” I trailed off as I noticed how hard Calax gripped the hospital chair. His eyes were unfocused, his breathing ragged. None of the guys looked any better after my confession. Each wore varying degrees of anger, horror, disgust, and sadness. I was almost grateful when I didn’t spot pity in their kaleidoscope of emotions.
I wouldn’t be able to handle that.
Swallowing, I hurried to continue before I lost my nerve. “I think I just gave up. If I choose to take everything seriously, to drown in my sorrow, I may never get back up again. God, it feels like I’m dying almost every day. I can’t breathe at points. But I accepted my life, and I accepted the mask that I must wear to survive it. Instead of breaking, I make it into a joke. It may be a twisted way of handling things, but it keeps me sane, or somewhat close to it. I wouldn’t be able to smile without it.”
I let out ragged a breath. I hadn’t meant to share as much as I did. I couldn’t even tell you why I had. The words just spewed from my mouth like a verbal freight train. Maybe it was some innate need inside of me, a need that I didn’t fully understand, that craved human companionship.
Acceptance.
Maybe I had spoken because these were feelings I had never dared put into words before because I had nobody to listen.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was because the last remaining grip I’d had on my sanity disappeared the moment my arms hit the stovetop.
