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I need a plan. A really fucking good one.
That, or a miracle. But I seem to be shit out of luck with those.
3
JD
“What the fuck are you doing?” I bark the second Reid turns to my room instead of the stairs, where I was expecting him to go.
“I need a shower.”
“Then use your own,” I hiss, throwing my arm out in the direction of his bedroom that I was just dragged out of.
Without a word, or even a glance back, he reaches behind his head and drags his bloodstained shirt from his body.
“Don’t go back in there,” he warns darkly before kicking my door closed.
I fall onto the end of my bed as the shower begins running and drop my head into my hands.
When he suggested bringing Alana up for dinner, I thought he had some twisted plan to get her talking. I fucking wish he did because this has been a fucking shitshow.
I want to say that we should have left her down there, but if we did and she had that reaction when she was alone…
I swallow roughly and squeeze my eyes tighter.
No. I can’t even think about what the outcome of that could have been.
Dropping my hands, I stare at them as they tremble violently.
Clenching my fists, I will the fear to abate. But it does nothing.
Shifting my gaze, I track each of the blood splatters that stain my arms, my stomach knotting as the true horror of the night plays out again in my mind.
I’m not scared of blood, or ever fazed by the things we do. But tonight hits differently.
And I know exactly why.
It’s her.
My defiant, feisty little dove.
“FUCK,” I roar, combing my fingers through my hair and pulling until it hurts. But it’s not enough.
We fucked up tonight.
I fucked up tonight.
I deserve the pain. I should be the one hurting.
Do it. Make it hurt.
Hanging my head, I fight to push the voice away.
My short nails dig into my palms as I focus on my breathing.
Fight it, Julian.
She needs you.
