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But something shifted last night.
Finding her with those tiny pair of scissors in her trembling hand.Knowing that she turned to searching them out instead of turning to me, hurt.
Did I want to hurt her in return? No.
Hell no.
Did I want to scare her? Yeah, maybe just a little bit.
She thinks the pain is going to help. And yeah, for a few seconds, maybe even a couple of minutes, if she’s lucky, it will.
But then what?
She’s still going to be left with the unbearable grief that kickstarted all this in the first place along with a heap of new scars and stinging regrets.
My skin burns with her attention, and it makes me feel like an even bigger dickhead for the move I just pulled.
I can only imagine what it looked like to her.
She probably thinks that I’m embarrassed or ashamed to be caught in bed with her.
That is so far from the truth, it’s not even funny.
I want to protect her, not hurt her, but this is just another example of how I’m royally fucking that up.
Elliot Eaton, just never quite good enough…
My father’s voice rings out like a siren in my head making me wince.
Self-hatred rushes through my system.
Why did I think that I could help her?I can barely help myself.
I should have known that this would all end in disaster.
Finally finding my balls, I inhale a sharp breath and turn around.
I instantly regret the move.
Abigail is sitting in the middle of my bed with my sheets clutched to her chest. Her red hair is a mess around her head, her skin is pale. But none of that really registers, it’s the silent tears coursing down her cheeks that does.
I fucked up.
I fucked up really fucking bad.
“Red,” I whisper, moving closer.
She closes her eyes as if just hearing my voice physically hurts her.“Don’t,” she whimpers. “Just don’t.”
“Red, that wasn’t what?—”
“I said don’t—” she hisses. There’s more passion and life in her voice than I’ve heard in weeks, and I hate that it’s because of me.
I stand there frozen in the middle of the room as she glares at me.
She looks so tiny, so helpless sitting in my big bed, but at the same time, she holds all the power.
No matter what she tells me to do next, whether it be to crawl back into bed with her—unlikely—or walk out my own bedroom door and never look back, we both know that I’ll do it.
