I drag the blade again. Another cut. Another punishment. One that I deserve. Again and again and again.
Terrible creature resembling a human, wearing human skin, but nothing more than a monster.
Yes. Yes. But even monsters bleed.
And me?
I bleed beautifully.
Just like the monster that I am, I'll paint this skin with blood and relish the masterpiece I create.
Chapter seven
Ezrah
Istill don't know how I feel about Sebastian working in the same club as me. I avoided him as much as I could yesterday, and I plan on doing the same today.
Last night, I barely slept.
I was torn between the past, present, and the future.
I remember the first time I saw Sebastian as a kid. He was only twelve years old when Aziel and I interrupted his movie time. I chuckle just thinking about it now. Later, I learnt he went ballistic whenever someone interrupted his movies.
For the most part, he was just the awkward kid brother of my boyfriend. We got along. We bickered from time to time. But we weren't close. He's only four years younger, but those years were huge when we were teenagers.
Now I'm struggling to wrap my mind around the memories of him as a kid and the man he's become.
For fuck's sake, I checked him out before I realized who he was.
Bile rises in my throat because part of my brain still sees him as a kid. My ex-husband's baby brother.
Even when I was twenty-four and Aziel cheated on me, I still thought of Sebastian as a kid when he stayed with me during that first month after the breakup. That's all he ever was. So why the fuck can't I stop thinking about the way he swirled his hips? Why can't I stop picturing his slim, defined body pressed against mine?
What the hell is wrong with me?
Groaning, I tell myself it's just been too long since I hooked up. That has to be it.
Monday and Tuesday are our days off, so I only have to survive three more nights. Maybe I'll hit another club, find someone, take the edge off. Maybe that will banish these inappropriate, unwelcome thoughts.
My plan to avoid Sebastian goes out the window the second I see him.
Something is wrong.
I can't explain how I know. I haven't seen him in two years, and truth be told, I'm not sure I ever really knew him. But my gut says something's off.
Yesterday, he was all energy, all giggles and mischief. Tonight, his eyes are hollow. The brightness is gone, replaced with a polite, fake smile. It's so obvious to me, I don't know how no one else notices.
There are still fifteen minutes before the club opens, so I head over to the bar.
"Sebastian."
"Hello, Ezrah."
He looks up, and my stomach drops. I told him not to call me Daddy at work, so why does hearing my name feels… wrong?
It doesn't make sense.
"Is everything alright?" I ask, ignoring the question burning in me. The one that questions why I want my ex-husband's brother to call me Daddy.
