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That yanks me out of my trance.
“What the hell did he do to you?” I pause when her fingers drift to the hem of her dress.
God, no. Please don’t let it be that. I don’t know if I can handle that. It’ll be too much, and I need to be able to handle this for her.
“Did he …?” I can’t even say it aloud, as I’m pulled away to a different time, place, life that binds me at the wrists and slices my flesh open.
I don’t want to remember it.
Please.
Don’t let me remember it.
Right now.
Ever.
She shakes her head, hugging her arms around herself. “No, he didn’t get that far.”
My breathing comes out ragged as I battle to stay calm. “Where is he?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably icing his balls.”
I cock my head to the side. “Huh?”
“Well, I did kick him there enough times that he probably won’t be able to have children anymore,” she says matter-of-factly, her eyes lacking so much emotion it kills me to look at them.
I miss her fire. Her life.
He better not have stolen that away from her.
Taken anything away from her.
I pierce my nails into the flesh of my palms. “How did you get the fat lip and the welt on your cheek?”
She lowers herself onto the shut toilet then drops her head into her hands. “I thought we were going outside and realized too late he was taking me to a bedroom. When we got in there, he locked the door and shoved me down on the bed. I hit my face on the headboard and bit my lip.”
I cautiously inch past the sink toward her. “What about your dress? How did it … get torn?”
Her breathing quickens and her bottom lip quivers. “I said he didn’t rape me, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t try.” She drags her fingers down her face as she stares helplessly at me. “God, I’m so stupid. You were right. I do think too much with my heart.”
Something snaps inside me. Breaks. Shatters. I’m not sure if it’s because she doubts her heart, or that he tried to rape her. Whatever it is, I can’t stop the thoughts from emerging.
House of locks. Walls of metal.
Searing pain. Scorching into me.
Branded forever, like bleeding ink.
I suck in an uneven breath.
William is going to fucking pay for what he did.
“I’ll be right back.” My voice is low and controlled, despite the fact that I feel more out of control than I ever have. I reel around and yank the door open.
“No, Ayden, don’t,” Lyric begs, hopping up from the toilet and chasing after me.
But I storm out the door, slamming it behind me with only a single thought in my mind.
Make William pay.
Protect Lyric.
Like no one ever did for me.
I find the douche bag in the kitchen, near the drink section, chatting with some girl from our school, standing a bit awkwardly as he throws back a shot.
Of course he’d be with a fucking girl.
He spots me when I’m about two steps away from him, and by the way the color drains from his face, I can tell he knows why I’m here, and he’s afraid. He fucking should be. I had been good at refraining from violence for a while, but I’m making an exception right now for Lyric.
I don’t even slow down as I reach him, my feet keeping momentum as I crane my arm back. He starts to stagger back into the counter, but not quick enough, and I bash my knuckles straight into his nose. There’s a crack then blood streams from his nostrils, and then he crumples to the floor. The crowd creates a gap as people skitter away from the scene, some cursing, and a few girls even start crying.
“You’re going to fucking pay for that,” he growls as he rolls onto his back, cupping his bloody nose.
I crouch down beside him, and his eyes widen and fill with fear. “If you ever so much as look at Lyric again, I will put you in the hospital. You got it?”
He shakes his head, cursing as blood drips down the back of his hands. “I’m going to sue your ass for this.”
I lean down in his face. “Do. You. Get. What. I’m. Saying?”
Scowling, he nods. It takes every amount of my strength to stand up without punching him in the face again.
By the time I reach the stairway, my fists are trembling and blood is staining my knuckles and scars. I start to hyperventilate. I try to force the images back, but the flashbacks are too intense this time and emotions overwhelm me.
Claws.
Blood.
The walls are closing in.
They tell me this is how life is supposed to be.
For me to be trapped.
Confined.
A prisoner in a home filled with madness.
That my mother stuck me in.
Gave me up.
Just like that.
As if I was a stray dog she didn’t want.
I can almost feel the metal biting at my wrist, and all I can do is grip onto the railing, and pray they’ll be over soon.
That I’ll forget again.
Chapter 10
Lyric
This is one of the worst nights of my life. I’m lucky, though. It could have gone a lot worse. William could have gotten what he was trying to steal. He got as far as kissing me and reaching under my dress before I managed to knee the crap out of his balls. Then he collapsed to the floor, and I ran out of the room.
But the damn idiot stole my first kiss!
That I can never get back.
And now Ayden has gone after him to do God knows what. I’ve never seen him that pissed off before. It has me extremely worried.
I’d been hiding out in the bathroom, embarrassed about how I looked, like everyone would be able to tell what happened by my appearance.
After sending Ayden countless texts, I give up and crack the door open, peering into the hallway. I spot Sage, his bright blue hair making him stand out like a bluebird in a sea of crows. He definitely has his own unique style. Tall and lean, he wears a lot of different shades of clothing, yet all of them are dark with murky tones. He has countless piercings, including three in his brow and one in his tongue.
He’s chatting with his buddies, so I open the door all the way and stick my head out.
“Sage,” I hiss, waving him over.
When he glances at me, his brows knit as he strides over. He has a joint in his hand and reeks of pot, but Sage is known as the school pothead, so it’s no surprise. He can play the drums like a boss, though, so he’s cool in my book.
“What’s up?” His blue-eyed gaze scans me. “Holy shit. Are you okay, Lyric?”
“I’m fine. But can you go find Ayden? I think he might be in some trouble.”
“Yeah, I saw him storming down the hall, looking like he was about to murder someone.”
I bite down on my lip, instantly regretting it when pain sears across my face. “I’m kind of worried that he might try exactly that.”
He positions the joint between his lips. “I’m on it.”
I shut the door as he strides toward the stairs. Then, I sink to the floor and very impatiently wait for Sage to either come back, or hopefully Ayden to return. Seconds tick by. Minutes. Right in the midst of deciding to go out myself, the door finally swings open.
“Oh, thank God.” I sigh in relief as Ayden trudges into the bathroom. My gaze immediately drops to his hand cradled at his side, and I jump to my feet. “Why is there blood all over your knuckles?” I grab his hand and jerk it toward me. When his face contorts in pain, I loosen my hold.
“I haven’t hit someone since I was fourteen,”
he mutters, stretching out the fingers of his uninjured hand. “I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to use my knuckles.”
I gently wipe some of the blood off his skin, surprised he doesn’t stop me when my fingertips graze his scars. “But whose blood is this? Because I don’t see any fresh cuts.”
