I turned on the shower and quickly stripped myself of my pajamas. My mind snagged onhisvoice in my head. Claiming me. I caught my reflection in the mirror and cringed at the scarred skin.
Two days.Twodays.
I’d promised myself to actually try this time. That I wouldn’t succumb to the urges. That if I ever wanted to feel normal,I’d have to stop. That adding more scars wouldn’t help me feel any better about myself. That the whole process was wrong, a product of my time at Eden, even if that was a lie too. That I wasn’t like my brother, I wasn’t just as sickly obsessed with pain. That I was happy now, that I shouldn’t want to do it. That I shouldn’t be craving the feeling of the blade or the sting of the cut or the feeling of instant euphoria.
I startled, releasing my grip on the package of disposable razor blades I kept beneath my bathroom sink.
Fucking dammit.
I slammed the cupboard shut and got into the steaming shower. By the time I got out, I was still replaying that dream in my head and I needed something to distract me. I needed—
I froze, my underwear halfway up my legs as the unmistakable sound of someone else in my apartment reached my ears. My heart jumped rapidly in my chest, and I stared at my cracked bedroom door.
Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My mind was already conjuring up faceless Los Siete thugs in my apartment, their guns drawn, ready to kill me. I forced myself to move to my bedside table, gingerly pulling the drawer open. I strained my ears, the thud of items shifting in my living room hadn’t stopped. I lifted the gun from the drawer. I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing as I pulled the slide back, and opened them to ensure there was a bullet loaded in the chamber.
Why didn’t I check if the damned door was locked?
The adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and I tried not to grip the gun too tightly. I took one final breath before opening my door to reveal the living room.
My heart pounded in my ears, and I scanned the space with confusion. “Aim for the chest. It’s the easiest target to hit if they’re moving. Don’t stop firing until they go down.”Bradley’s instructions rang in my ears.
A figure popped up from behind the kitchen counter. I aimed and we both screamed.
The bananas in Enoch’s hand dropped to the floor with a thud, and I blinked, my brain registering the fact that I was not in danger before I could depress the trigger. Enoch threw his hands up in the universal‘please don’t fucking shoot’manner.
My shoulders sagged, the air leaving my lungs in a whoosh as I lowered the gun. I turned to the side, placing the gun on the tv stand beside me and bent over, hands on my knees. I focused on sucking down some much-needed oxygen as I willed my heart not to explode.
“Holy shit,” Enoch huffed, his footsteps carrying him towards me.
I closed my eyes briefly before straightening up and glaring at him. “What. The fuck?” I wheezed, still breathless. “You were gone. And then…I could’vekilledyou.”
Enoch nodded, his hands up in a placating manner as he smiled apologetically. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I heard you in the shower and I should’ve told you I was back. I just ran to the grocery store because you didn’t have any food.”
Enoch’s gaze scanned my body, and I realized my mistake too late. I stepped back, my shoulder ramming into my bedroom door jam.
“Fuck,” I murmured, desperate to the get the hell out of sight. I was standing in a sports bra and underwear, every inch of scar tissue on display. Enoch reached for my arm, causing me to shrug out of his touch.
“Shiloh.”
I crossed my arms over my bare stomach and looked up to meet his eyes. Enoch held my stare, and we both stood there suspended in time like I wasn’t half naked, and he hadn’t just seen my secret etched into my skin.
I shifted on my feet, ready to walk backwards into my room and put some fucking clothes on, when he took a step closer to me.
My chest ached with shame and embarrassment. I craved the blade more than ever to take away those feelings.
I flinched as his hand reached out for me again, and he paused his hand for a moment watching my eyes before continuing until his palm met my cheek.
He gave me a sad smile, and I bit the inside of my cheek. My eyes burned and I struggled to keep the tears at bay. At least if I cried, I wouldn’t have to see his pitying eyes.
“Baby.” His voice was a rough whisper, and I blinked against the tears.
My lip trembled and my throat clogged with a painful lump.
I was too weak to hold back the sob any longer and the tears spilled over, tracking down my cheeks and right onto Enoch’s hand.
I shook my head, the words stuck in my throat, and Enoch pulled me into the safety of his embrace. I hated that I couldn’t be stronger, that I couldn’t push him away, that I broke and he was there to witness it.
