Chapter 38
Emmett
He needs to washhis hands.
That’s the thought that circles around inside my head over and over again as I watch Tristen’s disappearing back.
I should tell him. To wash me off before he touches anyone else, before he runs headfirst into fire, or whatever it is that he does when he’s here. To rid himself of me before I make his life worse.
It’s what I do.
I poison people. Make them do shit that they wouldn’t have done without me around.
I shouldn’t even be alive to do it.
Apropos that I’m back on the bathroom tile, just in a fuckingfirehousethis time, with another person infected by me.
I made him kiss me. I made him want me.
I scream into the cavern of my thighs, but no sound passes my vocal cords.
Funny how they always fail me when I need them most. When screaming, yelling, making any sounds at all could save me, my body can’t be bothered to make a single peep.
I’m as pathetic as always.
Weak.
So fucking weak.
The tears trailing down my chin collect at the neck of the hoodie that doesn’t belong to me, the damp material releasing the scent of my undoing.
Sage and leather.
Oil and sin.
The cries rack me harder and I tip over, my shoulder meeting the cold floor with a thud.
I barely feel it.
I want to feel it because maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have all this shit inside of me that steals my breath and begs to leak out of my skin.
“Make it stop.”
My throat scratches with the whispered words and I jam back the cuff of my sleeve to my elbow.
I want it to be over.
My soundless sobs make it hard to breathe, hard to see the little white lies rippling across my skin when I think of all the times I thought the very same thing.
Reminders of all the times I’ve already tried to get it to stop and failed.
I thought the pills would work this time.
I scratch the textured skin, and I feel nothing.
Thought about you all night.
His comments jolt me, and I dig my nail in deeper with each pass, going until I feel dampness.
