My hand curls into the back of his shirt and I yank him away, physically lifting him off his feet. He calls out and Willow screams but it’s just noise. I throw him away, watching as his body hurtles and then crashes into a nearby table. Glasses and bottles shatter and he lands on the floor, on his side, the glass cutting into his skin.
“Stay the fuck away from her!” I roar.
“Sebastian!” Willow latches onto my arm, “Stop.”
But rage consumes me, this fucking asshole. He targeted her because of me. He knows about her.
I storm toward him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt as I bring him up and slam my other hand down, connecting my fist with his face. Blood splatters across my knuckles as his nose explodes against my hand.
“What are you doing!?” I hear Willow scream, but I’m too far gone. I bring my fist down again, knocking Christian unconscious and then I feel her latch onto me. I tense, stuck between this never-ending rage and not wanting to push her away. She holds my arm, repeating my name as my breath rushes from my lungs in quick heavy pants.
“Sebastian!” I hear Malakai and then my sister call my name, but I continue to hold Christian’s limp body by the collar of his shirt, his head rolled back as blood steadily streams from the wounds I inflicted on his face.
“Drop him!” Malakai orders.
I feel eyes on me, the whole party watching, breaths held as they wait for my next move.
My teeth clamp together painfully, jaw cramping as I release my fist and his body thumps onto the floor, glass crunching under my feet as I step away. Willow’s nails dig into the bare skin on my forearms and slowly, I move my eyes to her face, seeing the fresh tracks of tears on her freckled cheeks, her skin paler than it was before.
She starts to guide me toward the door, gently, calmly, as if I’m an animal at risk of flipping at any second. I follow, counting my breaths, willing the red tinged fog of anger to abate long enough to assess the damage I’ve just done.
But that’s my problem, I don’t think before I act, don’t look at the consequences. It’s a prize for many, to use this anger and rage as a tool of power. How else would people be afraid of me? Of Malakai and Killian and Dean? We don’t hide these parts of ourselves because it gives us an edge that makes peoplefearus as a collective, but it must be controlled. Only I hadn’t figured out how to do that.
The cool air hits my skin, drying the sweat beading onmy face but we don’t stop. Willow flags down a cab and gives the driver her address while I sit in the back silently, watching the lights of the city stream by in a kaleidoscope of color. It feels like no time passes at all, but we pull up to the apartment building and I pay the driver before Willow can pull her card from her purse.
It's silent as we make our way up, the only sound between us is the noise of our breathing and once inside the apartment, Willow leaves me in the foyer, heading straight for the bathroom. The door slams behind her and I stare at it far longer than I care to admit, standing where she left me just beyond the elevator doors.
When she returns, she’s dressed in a pair of sweats and an oversized sweater, her red hair bundled into a messy bun atop her head and her face clean of makeup.
I fucking love her freckles.
“What the fuck was that, Sebastian?” She stops in front of me, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and begins to tap her foot.
“He touched you.”
“I was handling it,” She snaps, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I blink.
“This is who I am,” I remind her. “This is what I do.”
“So what?” She scoffs, “You’re going to beat everyman that comes near me half to death?”
“If they are a threat to you, yes,” I step closer, “If they lay their hands on you without your permission, yes.”
Her blue eyes widen.
“If they harm or touch or even think about hurting you then I’ll rip them to shreds, piece by piece.”
She wets her lips but doesn’t speak. What is there to say?
“I’m a fucking monster, Red,” I’m so close I can smell her now, “This is who I am. This is me.”
“No, it’s not.” Her voice is so quiet I almost miss her words.
“What did you say?”
“This isn’t you.” She says, firmer now, a fire lighting behind her eyes. “I know you, Sebastian.”
