My stomach tensed with nerves. Why did it feel like I was doing something wrong, when getting a tattoo was different from cutting myself?
“Let me know if you change your mind about anything and want anything changed.”
I nodded before realizing he couldn’t see me.
“It’s perfect,” I said, looking down at the design he’d emailed me.
Black raven. Broken bird cage covered in vines and flowers. And the carrion, an animal with its heart ripped out and in the raven’s mouth. And the one detail I’d added since Enoch came back—a tag on the raven’s foot that read 0620, the day I left Eden and the day Enoch came back to me. What were the odds that the very day I dreaded each year, the one that reminded me how much my heart was still beating while I felt dead inside, was also the day that the person I’d been clinging onto like a life raft for the last three years showed up in my life again. Right when I was getting ready to end it all. Right when I was sure I’d had enough, sure I couldn’t hold on any longer, he had to come and fuck up my plans.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just tired. Um, I’ll let you know tomorrow if I can make it or not.”
My phone started vibrating and my lips twitched with a smile at the screen.
“Hey, I’m getting another call.”
“Yeah,” Cole said. “Talk to you later.”
I ended the call, answering the one from Enoch.
“Hi, baby!”
I didn’t fight the grin. “Hi.”
“I’m on my way. You home?”
I frowned. “Why?”
“To celebrate.”
“Celebrate?” I asked skeptically, picking up my phone and walking towards the couch to sit down.
“Yeah, one week. I got you something.”
I ground my teeth. I didn’t want to celebrate. It’d only make me feel shittier when I slipped.
“Baby?”
“Yeah, um, are you sure it’s smart to see me right now?”
“It’s fine. I’m alone. I just told them I’d be home a little later from work today.”
I sighed, pulled my legs up to my chest.
I hated that I wanted to see him so much. That I wanted to tell him how shitty the day had been at therapy. That I wanted him to hold me. That I couldn’t sleep last night without him. That I was scared about having another nightmare alone. That I was getting attached. That I…needed him.
“Okay, I’ll see you soon then.”
“I’m five minutes out. I’ll call you when I park so you know it’s me when I knock on the door.”
My chest fluttered at his thoughtfulness, and I remembered how I almost fucking shot him and how I tried to strangle him two nights ago. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Ok.”
I hung up before I got emotional and stood up to do something other than peel my own skin off. My scab on my thigh was itching, and I wanted to peel it off, was craving the pain of reopening the wound. It would be so fucking easy, it wasn’t even cutting, it was…a loophole of sorts. It could be written off as an accident.
My heart raced, imagining the rush.
