Fuck.
The door to another room is open, filled with the activities I mentioned to her earlier. But that’s not what’s got her shaken up; it’s a certain prick that I’d love to rip’s skin off.
Conrad Montgomery.
The blood in my veins instantly fires to lava.
He’s got his hand gripped around the intoxicated woman from earlier at the bar, dragging her into the room as she tries to weakly fight back from him.
I can feel the rage blistering from my skin to Indie’s, frictioning against each other.
Indie’s shoulders rise and fall in quick succession; it might as well be a statue that’s leaning against me, her body like stone.
I knew she’d react to seeing him all these years, but this?
Watching him like a mirror image to the exact same way he treated her?
I wouldn’t have accounted for him acting like this so brazenly.
This has just torn open her psychological scars. I can see it in her face.
“Don’t get lost in that head, darling. I need you here,” I whisper to her, but she’s not registering my words, too caught up in the snare those memories have her in.
So I do the only thing I can.
Abandoning the drinks on the bar, grip her hand, and drag her to the closest bathroom.
43
Indie
Indigo (feat. Avery Anna) - Sam Barber
IfeelasthoughI’m watching life outside my body.
My surroundings are blurred, the music and chatter muffled, Saint’s voice is gone.
I’m moving, but it’s a struggle. I completely froze when I sawhim.
I thought I’d be okay, the fortress around my mind strong enough to deal with the one that caused my life to flip upside its head.
The one responsible for the root of my pain, for losing years with the man I love, the one that made me into a fucking killer.
When he had that woman viciously in his grip, her staggering form trying to fight against his advances, losing to him.
Every single dark and weakening thought came flooding through my defences, washing away the barricades like a tsunami had hit it, and I felt like I’d been catapulted back years in time, witnessing my own assault.
Saint drags me into a bathroom, pulling me inside and turning to lock the door.
My body won’t move; it’s like I can’t get out of my head, the chunks of what remained of my assault flashing behind my eyes, the need to claw at my skin strong.
I’m screaming at myself to snap out of it, for someone to get me out of the hole I’ve fallen into, but I can’t.
My breathing becomes laboured, each breath feeling like a knife puncturing my lung.
The clank of ceramic catches my attention, and I manage to dart my gaze over to Saint.
“Come over to me, baby.”
