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He stalks toward me and crouches down, looking me dead in the eye. “What happened?”
“You were sleeping a-and I… I…” I exhale a shaky breath. “I needed to get it out.”
“Get what out?” His expression softens. Just a fraction. Just enough for my heart rate to slow a little.
But I don’t give him what he wants, pressing my lips together in defiance.
“Red,” he warns.
Silence stretches out between us and I almost cave.
Almost.
“Fine,” he hisses, fury flashing in his dark gaze. “Let’s try this my way.”
Without warning, Elliot scoops me and carries me out of the bathroom, dropping me onto his bed.
“Wha—”
“Stay,” he demands before marching back into the bathroom.
When he returns he’s clutching the scissor in his hands.
“What are you doing?” I shuffle back, eyes as wide as saucers as he drops one knee to the end of the bed and looms over me.
“This is what you wanted, right? You want to hurt yourself?” His free hand grabs my leg and yanks. “You want the pain?” His fingers skim over my knee and along my inner thigh, fingertips dancing over the already marred skin there.
“Elliot,” I breathe, my heart crashing wildly in my chest as he snaps open the scissors and angles one of the small blades toward me.
“It’ll make it feel better, right?”
“Why are you doing this?” I cry, tears of anguish spilling down my cheeks.
My breath catches as he presses the blade into my flesh, holding it there. It doesn’t break the skin, but it will if he drags it.
Do I want that?
Do I want him to do that to me?
“Just say the word, Red. Say the word and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll make it hurt. I’ll make you bleed.”
“I…” He starts to move his hand, but I rush out, “Stop. Just… stop.”
“Stop?” he asks, and I nod frantically.
“Y-yes.”
“You don’t want this?”
“I… I don’t want this.”
I do. At least, some part of me does. But not like this. Not with him in absolute control and me spiralling into complete chaos.
His eyes narrow, the air thinning until I feel like I can’t breathe. Like everything is about to come crashing down around me again.
“Elliott, please.” My voice cracks and he blinks, the anger in his expression evaporating.
“Abi? Fuck.” He drops the scissors, scrambling away from me. “Fuck, I didn’t… I’m not… Fuck,” he roars, slamming his fist into the wall.
