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I closed my eyes, no longer able to look at myself in the mirror, at the bruise forming around my neck. Bruises only got worse, and I didn’t have any makeup here to hide them. Even if I got some makeup tomorrow when Creed and I went out… would I be able to hide it from him until then? I’d made it this far, but…
God. I was really pathetic, wasn’t I? I’d cry, if I hadn’t already run my tear ducts dry. I couldn’t tell you how many nights I’d spent, lying in bed, crying myself to sleep, wishing everything was different. Life really did suck sometimes, and now I honestly didn’t know where I’d go from here.
Not back home to Dad, obviously, but I couldn’t stay with Creed forever. As much as I loved the fact that he’d drop everything to help me, I didn’t want to wear out my welcome. And maybe, just maybe a small part of me thought it might be easier to just run away and start again somewhere new. Didn’t know how I’d do that, or where I’d go, but—
The door to the bathroom opened, and my eyelids lifted the same moment Creed pushed inside. He’d taken off the jacket to his suit, along with his tie, but he still wore the dark pressed pants and the tucked-in button-up shirt.
“Hey!” I pointed out, “I could’ve been naked—”
But that wasn’t why he’d barged in without knocking, I realized, once his gaze had dropped to my neck and then flicked over to my bloodied hand.
Shit.
I whirled, giving him my back as I held my injured hand against my chest, cupping it with my other, as if to hide it. I couldn’t hide what he’d already seen, though. “Get out,” I whispered, wishing he would.
He didn’t.
Creed set a strong hand on my shoulder, forcing me to turn back around and face him. The look on his face was one of pure rage, his mouth twisted into a frown, but I knew that rage wasn’t directed toward me; it was to my dad.
Well, maybe some of it was for me, since I’d tried to hide it from him.
“Who did this?” Creed demanded, still holding onto my shoulder, even after turning me around, almost as if he thought I’d try to run if he let me go. “Was it him? Did he do this to you?” When I made no moves to speak to him, to tell him anything, he dropped his hand from my shoulder and narrowed his stare at me.
I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t want to, and that’s why I didn’t know why I started to say, “He didn’t mean to—”
Creed stepped closer, the intensity coming off him in waves. “Don’t make excuses for that asshole, Taylor. He knew what he was doing. People always do when they’re hurting you—they’re just masters at making you believe it’s your fault.”
I didn’t know what to say to him. I really didn’t know what to say. In the end, I didn’t say anything, looking down at the tile before my shoes. I hadn’t even taken off my stupid shoes yet. I—
My thoughts were interrupted by Creed stepping closer, his sleek black dress shoes moving to stand two inches away from mine. His feet were so much bigger than mine, it was almost funny. But nothing was really funny right now.
A warmth blossomed on my hand covering my injured one, and when I looked up, I met Creed’s dark eyes. Just like that, I was caught in his web, and I let him move aside my good hand so he could get a look at my bad one. He gently ran his fingers over the cuts the glass had made when I’d shattered it against my dad’s skull. It hurt, the wound too fresh, the adrenaline no longer pumping through my system, but I resisted my urge to pull away from him.
For a moment, nothing but the showerhead pelting water onto the tiled floor filled the air. Creed’s other hand went to touch my neck, where the bruises were starting to form. I could only imagine what he was thinking, what he thought of my dad, what he thought of me for trying to hide it… and for taking it for so long.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, his voice quiet. Even so, it’d be a lie to say he sounded calm; if anything, he came across the opposite: raging angry, barely able to hold it in. But he wasn’t furious at me. I had to remember that.
I didn’t say anything to that, didn’t know why. Any word I could’ve said caught in the back of my throat as he held my stare, refusing to release me from his trance.
“Taylor,” he spoke my name with more urgency. “Are you hurt anywhere else?If I have to inspect every inch of you, I will—”
My heart did something weird in my chest, and I took a step away from him and his hands, shaking my head once. “No! Nowhere else.” Because I could tell he didn’t quite believe me, I added, “I promise.”
Creed let out a harsh sigh, running a hand along his jaw in what must be thought. “Wash up. I’ll leave fresh clothes for you on the bed. When you’re done, you will eat whatever I make you and you’ll tell me exactly what happened.”
He didn’t give me time to argue with him, for he turned away and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him as he went—and leaving me, standing there, in a bit of a daze. Why so protective over me, even after all this time? After he left? I didn’t get it. It made zero sense to me, and as I took off the rest of my clothes and hopped in the shower, I relayed what he’d told me in my head.
Because I had to.
He’d left because he had to. It didn’t make sense. Maybe, sooner or later, I’d get him to tell me the real reason he’d left, because that just wasn’t cutting it for me. There had to be more to it, something he didn’t want to say.
And then, as the water hit the top of my head and drenched me instantly, I wondered if he’d leave me again.
My only answer was the blood circling the drain and the low ache in my hand for being disturbed.
Chapter Four – Creed
I was going to kill him. I, Creed Calypso, was going to kill that motherfucker, make him choke on his own liquid-filled screams. I was going to rip him apart, piece by piece, careful only to keep him alive as long as possible, so he could experience as much pain his mind could comprehend before he breathed his last breath.
