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“You need to sort him out. Get his head straight,” Beast grumbles, shock and pity in his eyes. I know what he’s thinking. This isn’t how the Deana-dhe act. This isn’t who we are, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m not a legend at this moment. I’m not untouchable or fearless. I’m not a god.
I’m just a man who’s torn apart by guilt.
I’m a man whoneedsto hurt in order to survive the pain.
“Just let me go!” I snarl, rabid now, rage spiking my blood with adrenaline as I feed off of it.
Lorcan yanks me backwards away from them all, half carrying me, half dragging me to the rear of the plane.
“He needs to get his shit together. He’s no good to us,to Cynthia, like that,” Beast adds, snaking a hand through his hair.
“FUUUUUUCK!” I yell, wanting to crawl out of my skin, knowing he’s right.
I’m no good for her.
And that only makes everything worse.
I want to hurt and maim. I want to draw blood. I want to tear everyone and everything apart, including myself.
I can’t take this anymore.
It’s my fault.
It’smyfault.
My breaths are ragged, my guilt a noose around my neck as memories of that night assault me.
“It’s my fucking fault she’s gone. Leon’s right. I’m a fucking useless prick. I didn’t fucking save her from them,” I choke out, reliving that night when they took her. It comes back full force, knocking the wind out of me, and the rage is replaced with despair and self-hatred.
“You couldn’t have fought them off on your own,” Lorcan says, easing his hold a little.
“I can’t stop picturing the fear in her eyes. She was supposed to be safe with me! She was supposed to be safe!”
“There were too many,” Arden adds, approaching us both. “This isn’t on you.”
“They punched her in the face,” I continue, unable to stop myself now that I’ve started. Like a bottle of uncorked champagne the words froth and fizz, tumbling from my lips in angry little bursts. “They dragged her from the room by her fucking hair, but not before they groped at her breasts and punched her in the face. They fucking abused her right in front of me and I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it!”
“Fuck,” Beast mutters, the sympathy in his voice like a pair of scissors to the frayed threads of my emotion.
“I can’t stop hearing her screams for me to help!” I yell, banging my fist against my chest, wanting to hurt. Needing to hurt. “I fought for her so hard but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough!”
“Carrick, please stop torturing yourself,” Lorcan says, pressing his lips against my cheek, nuzzling his nose in my hair, trying to comfort me. But I don’t want his kindness, or his empathy. I don’t want to feel loved.
I wantpain.
“I need to hurt something,” I say, choking on the words, breaking apart as memories of that night flay me. “Ineedto hurt.”
Arden meets Lorcan’s eyes, a silent conversation passing between them before he looks over his shoulder towards Jakub. “Is that a private room back there?” he asks, pointing behind us.
“Yes,” Jakub confirms with a sharp nod of his head.
“We’re going to use it,” he states. “And you will leave us in peace until we land, no matter what you hear. Is that understood?”
“Of course,” Jakub agrees without argument. “Do what you need to do.”
There’s an empathetic tone to his voice that sets my teeth on edge. I don’t want his sympathy.
I don’t fucking want it. Not from him. Not from anyone.
