I stepped back, pulling my hands from his grasp and swallowed.
“Right,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. I looked up to find him studying me intensely. “What?”
His eyes narrowed and he flicked his gaze over my body slowly.
“You seem…off.”
I clenched my jaw with a glare. “Off?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “How did it go with your therapist?”
“Fine,” I gritted out, stepping back into the kitchen to earn some distance.
He closed his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. When he opened them, his gaze held sympathy as he smiled sadly. “Where?”
I didn’t budge.
“Where did you hurt yourself?”
Fuck off. I’m not your problem.
He took a step toward me, and I realized my mistake. I was cornered. That trapped feeling had me taking a shaky breath, glancing over his shoulder at the only exit, unless I decided to jump over the kitchen counter.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’m not mad.”
I licked my lips, fingers itching to swipe across the fresh cut on my thigh for a hit of something more than the dull throb. Something to ground me. Something to get me through the next minute.
Enoch was in my space, all the distance between us gone and I bit down into my lip, hard.
I flinched as his hand reached for my face, but he didn’t stop. Enoch pulled my lip from between my teeth, softly stroking the abused flesh of my bottom lip.
I tried to focus on the throbbing pain in my thigh, but his stare was penetrating.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please, baby.”
I swallowed, heart thrumming, guilt and shame curdling in my stomach. I slowly raised the hem of my long-sleeved shirt until I slipped it over my head, revealing my arm.
Enoch’s eyes scanned the scabbed nail marks on my bicep and nodded.
“I didn’t even know I was doing it until it was done,” I mumbled as his thumbs skating over the marks.
I met his stare and it's like he could see right through me.
He raised a brow. “Show me.”
I closed my eyes and pushed down the waistband of my sweatpants.
I kept my eyes closed as he knelt and gently removed the bandage from my leg. He sighed.
Weak. Weak fucking puta.
“This is deep, Shy.”
I resisted the urge to scream at him to leave me alone and took another shaky, long breath.
“You need to stop the bleeding,” he said. “Let me get some—”
“Stop!” My eyes flew open to find him staring up at me. I swallowed, guilt for yelling burning like acid in my throat. “I’ll do it.”
