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None of this makes sense. I don’t make fucking sense.
I was normal once. Once upon a time, I was just a fucking normal girl. Or at least I thought I was; maybe, just fucking maybe, I was never normal.
The fuck.
The fuck is wrong with me.
I continue to pace in front of Christian’s bed. The bed is not the one that I was chained to, but just the same. Fucking beds only bring pain. Normal people see a fucking bed and think, sleep, I look at a fucking bed, and all I want to do is cry, scream, and gag.
I tighten my grip on the knife in my hand. I have been pacing and pacing and fucking pacing. But there is only one way to make this better. This is the only way to regain my power: by destroying the one piece of furniture that took my choice from me. That allowed the chains to stay connected.
The bed, the fucking bed.
It needs to go.
I stop pacing, turn, and look down at Christian’s bed, the black sheets and blanket that keep me warm at night.
The bed is bad. I am bad.
The mirror is bad. I am bad.
Both need to be destroyed.
I take a deep breath as I make my way onto the bed and rip off the sheets and the blanket. I lift the knife and let out a scream as I start to stab the mattress.
The mattress never broke or failed Sebastian. The bed, the fucking bed made me stay still, made me take it.
It is the bed’s fucking fault.
The tears escape my eyes as I continue to stab the bed.
Not helping.
Not helping.
It’s NOT fucking helping.
20
Christian
Istop and listen to her screams. Her screams both turn me on and make my heart skip a beat. It turns me on because I can hear that she is like me, and it makes my heart skip a beat because I know she is in pain. I want to help her understand her pain and learn how to control it so it doesn’t control her. I want to teach her so fucking much.
She is destroying something in the room, but I can replace it, whatever the fuck it is. I will replace it with something new. She can destroy whatever she needs to fucking destroy.
I make my way to my bedroom door and open it. Stepping inside, I stop and take a deep breath as I look down at my destroyed mattress. The knife is sticking straight up, making me smile, fuck man, she has fire in her; I will give her that.
She and I are one and the same. She just doesn’t know it yet. But I fucking see her, I see her even if she can’t see herself.
I make my way towards the bathroom and stop in the doorway. She is standing in front of the mirror naked, looking at herself. Her eyes are pinned on her reflection, and her breathing is rapid and unsteady.
She makes my heart stop and beat faster at the same fucking time, if that is even fucking possible. I have a feeling many things that should be impossible for her will become possible.
I have been searching for her for fucking years. In every fucking woman I saw, it was and is her face that I see. She is broken right now and, at this moment, confused and uncertain, but I will help her. I will do whatever needs to be done so she fucking believes the words that I tell her.
Even though I know she fucking feels alone, she isn’t, and she will never be alone again. I will make sure of that.
She continues to look at herself in the mirror. Her hands are in fists at her side. I take a deep, shaky breath as she lifts her fists. I don’t need to ask her to know what she is about to do. I quickly enter the bathroom and move between her and the mirror. Just as she starts to swing her fist toward the mirror, I grab her hand, ensuring it doesn’t connect with the mirror.
