I run upstairs to the room before she can drag me anywhere. There’s no way for me to lock the door, so I go into the bathroom to remove the stickiness from my skin. The burns are soothed with the cold water, but the smell of sugar is still in the air. It’s not on my clothes or in my hair, it’s clinging to my skin like she’s slowly taking control of me.
The psychotic fucking cunt had sugar in the tea kettle. That’s why the water has dried in blobs, pulling patches of my skin off with them, but I do it carelessly, wanting it off as soon as possible. My arms and hands are nearly blue from being held under the cold water when I leave the bathroom, and the numbness makes it harder to climb out of the window.
Once I’ve made it out onto the ledge, I can breathe. I sit in the exact same position Kane did, gripping the edge with my numb fingers as I stare down at the rocks.
Would it be better to die?
I can’t have my baby. They have their own life, so why am I alive? To be a joke, a pawn for other people to control.
But then you burnt it.
Kane would have had a normal life.
Asher was going to die anyway. They were going to fake his death so he could live on this island, doing whatever they needed while Kane and I lived happily ever after.
But. Then. I. Burnt. It.
As the feeling re-enters my limbs, the drop down to the rocks becomes more enticing. I hold the stone as I stand on the ledge, slowly letting go when I dangle my foot over the ledge to true freedom.
26
KANE
Imanage to provide Rowan with the most entertainment to ensure Kid stays with me. By the end of the week, he’s opening up more. He’s even stopped asking to be picked up. Instead, he’ll jump on me.
It’s the middle of the night and I haven’t been able to find a signal anywhere in the room since the first call with Niko. Rowan has been busy with something else so we only leave the room to eat or attend his fucked parties, which have changed from rape to a more palatable violence, but I can still smell the blood on my skin after scrubbing my body.
Kid’s cheek is pressed to his shoulder as he lays on his back. He never untucks the sheets, so his little body is stuck between them and the thin mattress. He’s sleeping peacefully, unlike the other nights, so I silently walk into the bathroom, making sure the door doesn’t slam as I close it.
When I’m alone without any chance of being disturbed, I close the toilet lid, eager to get a hit of my addiction as I sit down, unclipping my phone case. There, resting on the back of the black glass, is my silver escape. I can see my eyes in the shinysurface as I tilt my phone to fully take the case off, catching my smile in the reflection.
I’m smiling at the sight of a razor blade.
But it’s my savior.
I rest my ankle on my knee, roll up the hem of my pants, and the first cut is pure fucking adrenaline.
The memories are muted on the second cut—physically drawing a pause button on my skin. I can breathe without the sounds of my own choking echoing in my ears. I’m not a victim who couldn’t help themselves. I get lost in the euphoria until my white sock begins to turn red from soaking up the memories and mental anguish bleeding away.
Whoever said two wrongs don’t make a right was a liar. Pain replaces pain. Like will always replace like.
The difference is, I choose this pain. I control it. I decide where it is.
When my leg goes numb, pins and needles shooting up into my thigh, I return my foot to the floor then unzip my pants, pushing them down my thighs as I pick a new spot. No one would ever look too closely to be able to see the old scars on the inside of my thighs. Not under the dark smattering of hair. There it is, the perfect canvas for me to have my escape without anyone knowing how weak I am or what I need to be able to breathe.
Euphoria replaces the pain at the first deep scratch of the blade sinking into my unmarred skin. There’s a split second where it doesn’t bleed as I mark a line. I’m rewarded as it turns red in small dots at first. They grow, carrying out more pain.
I jump as the door handle rattles. My phone clatters, sliding across to the other side of the bathroom as I kick my foot against the door.
“Kane?” Kid croaks, sleepily.
“Give me a second, I’m just pissing.”
“Okay, I thought you left.”
“I drank too much water earlier. Do you need the toilet?”
“No, it’s okay.”
