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I flinch from the sting on my thighs as I shift on the bed. I pull the comforter off and reach over to turn on the lamp from my nightstand.
I've bled through the gauze taped to my inner thigh. There is a little compartment where I keep my first-aid supplies in a hidden drawer on my nightstand. I wince when I pull the tape off my skin. The fresh cut is wet and stings when I remove the bandage.
"How long?"
I jerk and look at the chair in the corner of the room. My heart is racing.
"W-what are you doing? I stammer. "How did you get in here?"
"The front door. Like everyone else."
"M-my father?"
"He's in Mexico with my father, Colton, and Leo making the drop. We needed to be on campus and couldn't go. We have a game tomorrow."
"You should leave."
He gets up, my hands trembling, I dropping the antiseptic and first-aid kit. He removes his shirt, places it on the foot of the bed, and picks them up from the floor.
"What are you doing, Santiago?"
"Helping you."
"I don't need your help."
"How long,Muñeca?He slides his hands on the outer parts of my thighs. My bottom lip trembles.
"Don't cry, Elena. But why?"
I look away, not wanting to see the revulsion in his eyes. He grips my chin gently so I can face him.
"You don't love me anymore," he says, "I see it in your eyes. How you look at me is… different, and I don't know what to do about it."
I don't answer, but I feel his gaze on my inner thighs. There are so many scars I stopped caring. I stopped wearing bikinis and thongs and wore boy shorts instead. No one noticed. No one cared.
"I had to let you go, Santiago," I say finally. I look down at the fresh cut surrounded by red and white lines. "Now you know why I have to."
He swallows like he's choking. "Is… it all… because of me?"
I nod, letting my tears fall. I sniff. "Now you know."
His hands land on the sensitive spot near my waist, giving me butterflies. I try not to compare him to Maxim. I try not to breathe in his scent. I try…
He lifts one hand and wipes my tears with his thumb. "I'm so sorry, Elena. I'm sorry I wasn't the boy you dreamed of or the man that deserved you."He was and always will be, but thingschange. "I'm sorry for hurting you." He squeezes my waist gently, looking down at my thighs. "This was me hurting you, and I feel like dying."
I squirm under his gaze. I'm wearing a long t-shirt, and the only thing covering my pussy is my underwear that has ridden up, barely covering me from his gaze.
"I'm used to it, Santiago. It's how I cope."
He looks up, and there is anguish in his eyes. Guilt. Tears.
"I'm sorry.Perdoname," he croaks, inspects the cuts, and slides his thumb over the scars. "There are so many." He looks up, and tears slide down his faces. He sniffs. "Why would you hurt yourself?”
"You wouldn't understand because you have everything you have ever wanted. The one thing I have ever wanted, I can't have. The one thing I have ever wanted hurts me almost every day, and these are my memories."
"Fuck…Elena…” He sniffs. "I don't deserve you. I'm no good. I do bad things, and I like… doing them. You saw what I did to Scott. The panicked look on your face made me stop, but I wanted to…"
"Kill him," I finish for him.
