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Chapter Forty
Baxter
The need to cause pain and destruction is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before in my life. That’s saying some serious shit considering my background, my family.
When it all came out in the wash like that, I expected a blood bath so much worse than what transpired. I thought I wanted to see the chaos unfold, but I didn’t.
That monstrous part of me is still very much alive, but now rather than just blindly feeding on pain and destruction at anyone’s expense, I’m learning the hard way that I have people in my life I care about. And seeing them - seeing Raven - hurt like that? It almost killed me.
Now she’s turned up on my doorstep, once again forcing me to play the unwitting role of knight in tarnished armour. And I love it. I’m more than ready to step into the role every time she comes running. I’ll continue to do it for as long as she’ll have me.
If she’ll have me.
I’m not stupid; her presence here is a knee-jerk reaction to her circumstance. I’ve been her go-to for five years whenever there’s been Cordelia drama, and I’m not foolish enough to think that this new development means that everything from before is forgiven and forgotten.
I fucked up. I pushed her to come clean when the timing, the circumstances - hell everything! - wasn’t right. I fucked up so bad I spent the best part of two days trying to figure out how to make it up to her.
I didn’t expect an opportunity to land in my lap so easily.
Cordelia.
I’m going to take her down once and for all to show Raven how much I care.
Only, reading through the court paperwork while Raven and Phoenix sleep on the sofa bed nearby, has confident, cocky me finally faltering and wondering how the fuck I’m going to be her knight this time around.
It wouldn’t surprise me if Cordelia has been planning this since the day Raven finally left once and for all. Because inspecting the massive stack of papers tells me that Cordelia has an air-tight case. And the worst part in all of this?
I don’t have a fucking clue how we can win.
Charlotte’s Diary
Present Day
I keep staring into space, my fingertips absentmindedly touching my lips which are still bruised and swollen from the force of Thorn’s punishing kiss. I make no bones about it, his kiss was a punishment. I could feel it in the passion he had for me, the way he seemed to delight in the little spikes of pain he caused me. As if that wasn’t enough, the message was received loud and clear when he suddenly pulled away and bolted from my side. I could claim that I was confused by his sudden disappearance, but in truth, I wasn’t. From the moment he hesitated on the pavement and reluctantly came into the house, I knew he was conflicted. He threw questions like knives, each one hitting its mark harder than the last. Do I resent him for hurting me? For punishing me? No .I welcome it. I have no idea how to show I’m sorry. The words themselves are insignificant. How do I prove my regret through my actions? Where do I even begin? If violently kissing me helps Thorn to deal with the trauma of what I’ve done, so be it. I welcome it. He can use me to feel better. He can take his pound of flesh. I will happily submit to his needs if it earns me the atonement I so desperately crave.
