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Pouting with that unnaturally plump mouth made her look comical, I thought.
“He forced himself on me,” she added. “I’ve forgiven him. He’s too nice to ignore. And though it was like rape, I don’t mind.”
What?
When Drake returned, I turned him into a devil. Horns and all. A fucking gorgeous one.
But then the devil would be, wouldn’t he?
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking from me to Kylie.
“You’re evil.” My eyes burned from the threat of tears. Refusing to give Kylie the satisfaction of seeing how she’d affected me, I turned my back to her sharply and marched to the loo, head held high.
The emotional pain intensified with each breath I took. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed myself to fall so deeply in love.
My mother was right about love weakening us.
Once I was in the toilet, I rummaged through my bag, and driven by frustration, I emptied the contents on the ground and picked up the flick knife I’d been carrying around since thirteen.
London was a dangerous place. I’d already defended myself once when some junkie had tried to rob me. I hadn’t stabbed him, but I’d flicked the knife close to his heart.
Recalling how freaked out Drake had been at seeing those cuts on my inner thigh, I opted for my outer thigh instead. Whenever something dragged me into a dark place, cutting was my only coping mechanism. Alcohol didn’t remove pain, and I hated the way drugs made me feel.
A deep sting took my breath away, and as I bled, pain transferred from my heart to my wound.
I sopped up the blood with toilet paper, and knowing it would probably show on my jeans, I decided I would make a quick dash for the exit.
I couldn’t hang around, watching Drake getting all hot and close with another woman.
But rape? That wasn’t Drake. Was it?
Drake was always so gentle. Except for that angry kiss. And he did push me against the wall to fuck me from behind, but that was seriously hot.
Though he came across as sweet, I’d seen the fire in his eyes, especially when we fucked. Those gorgeous blue eyes burning into mine. When I’d asked why he kept staring, he’d said he loved looking at me.
Was he just playing with me? If so, he was an excellent actor, or I was just a gullible stooge.
I sat there, buried my head, and cried.
The door flung open, and Savvie covered her mouth. “Oops. Sorry.”
I stared up at her like a stunned rabbit. I should have locked the door.
Her eyes landed on my cuts and widened in shock. “What the fuck? Mannie?”
She called me Mannie. That was all I could think of at that moment. Drake had called me that once, and it had made me feel like a different person. Like we’d known each other forever.
“Your leg. It’s bleeding.” She pointed down at me.
I must have looked a sight. Sitting on the loo, my pants down at my feet. It took me a moment to realise what was happening. I’d been caught doing the unthinkable. People like me were freaks. Weirdos, who needed serious help. No one knew. Not even my mother. Not that she would give a shit.
“Did you injure yourself or something?”
Yeah. I cut myself because that’s what I do when life sucks.
“There’s a lot of blood.” She opened her bag and brought out a plaster bandage. “Here, I carry them around for blisters when I’m breaking in new shoes.”
“Oh, okay.” I took it from her.
