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My eyes close in an attempt to shut everything out.Not again.
I grab the bottle of Hennessey I had stashed inside my nightstand and guzzle half the bottle before the burn makes me stop.
Fuck this.
I pick up my wastebasket, march to the bathroom, toss the box and the dress into the wastebasket, and pour liquor on top of it all. I place the wastebasket on the shower floor and light its contents on fire.
The swoosh of the fire is oddly comforting, and as I sit on the counter, watching the blaze, I shift my energy from fear and pain into soul-deep fury and anger.
I lived in hell with no one but me for years.
I was already broken.
If someone thinks stupid shit like this is going to continue to do me any harm, they are mistaken. It might, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone know that. If the spawns of Lucifer want to come at me, then so be it. This time, they’ll be going back to hell with me.
* * *
There’s loud banging on the bathroom door, shaking me out of the dark thoughts I was swimming in.
“Evie! What the hell is that smell? Open the goddamn door!” Celeste is shrieking.
I look at the wastebasket. It’s a clump of burning plastic.
Shit! I jump off the counter to turn the shower on.
“Evie!!”
“I’m fine, Cele. I’ll be right out.”
As soon as I unlock the door, she bursts through, her eyes wide with panic.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Her voice quivers while her eyes inspect every inch of me and the bathroom.
I shift my eyes from side to side, trying to remember what the hell I was doing, but I swear, I wasn’t in here that long.
“I don’t know—I mean, nothing.”
She places both of her hands on her hips. “Oh, so coming into the bathroom and setting your wastebasket on fire is a new favorite pastime that you neglected to tell me about?”
“Yes?” I shrug my shoulders and try for nonchalant sarcasm, but from the death stare she’s giving me, I’m thinking I might have chosen the wrong route.
I close my eyes and breathe out slowly. A moment later, I peek through my eyelashes to see if she’s still mad.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s fine. You can open your eyes, asshole. I can see you.”
I turn off the shower once I’m sure the wastebasket is no longer burning, and she follows me to my bedroom.
“You wanna tell me what that was about?” she asks.
“Nope.” I flop backwards on my bed and stare at the ceiling.
Images of me in that dress momentarily prevent me from being able to see. The touches, the blood… the pain. I squeeze my eyes shut and hear her close the door, but she’s still in the room.Sigh. The bed dips as she climbs in next to me.
I push my past back in its black box and stuff all of my feelings inside it as I turn my head to face her.
“What?”
