“Yeah, your phone maybe.” Planting both feet between her silks, extra glass sparkles in her eyes, warning me of the tears I unintentionally knocked through her heart. “All of you are keeping things from me, Razor. And what makes it hurt the most is not knowing why.”
Guilt tangles my veins, my brain pulsing and zapping, kicking in a dose of panic. I stop recording and shove my phone in my pocket, offering my hand out to her. “Let’s go get somethin’ to eat.”
“No,” she lightly shakes her head, her lips trembling. “I’m not hungry.”
“Do you wanna catch some rides? Maybe fuck around in the arcade before you need to-”
“No, Razor.”
Her cutting me off and walking away from me wraps my ribs with dread, my heart ticking faster and faster the farther she gets from me. “Please, don’t be like that, little bunny.”
I manage one step before she’s turning her teary eyes over her shoulder and taking the stairs toward her dressing room.
“I’ll see you later,” she wavers.
I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never have.
I’m trying to protect her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BUNNY
Why does everyone walk on glass around me? What have I done? Why am I shoved away from things that might be difficult? What actually happened? Was it my fault?
“Come on, think, Bunny,” I whisper to my reflection, the amber bulbs humming additional warmth.
I try to dig, try to search through the dark soil and worms blocking me from reaching too deep in my mind, but the longer I look at myself, the more I become aware of backing down from Razor earlier.
Embarrassment chews through my cheeks, looking away from the aftermath of performing on a hot night, tucking my face away into my shaking hands. My stomach tenses, rolling and growling, interrupting how stupid I feel.
“I hate you,” I cry quietly against my palms.
I think I’m just hungry. And tired. And confused. And mad. And burnt out. And… I don’t know. I guess I could add sad to that list because this sucks. I hate that my brain immediately redacts the things that trouble me when he’s around. I wish I could square my shoulders and ask what the fuck is going on like I did with Duse.
Maybe I’ve done something so horrible my body has become its own safe house. MaybeI’mthe one protecting myself from something.
My eyes sink, laggardly moving from the stool and slipping my boots on. He’s patiently waiting on the other side of the curtains, and I know the moment I see him again I’m gonna melt like a popsicle.
Realization punches a gasp to the back of my throat, absently reaching halfway down to my raised foot and yanking up the zipper of my boot.
He fucked me with a popsicle.
I, um, I’m apparently just now registering that.
A popsicle. And his cock. They’ve both been inside me…
Here I go. Ignoring rational concern for the addictive drip raining down my spine, the hedonism thrumming through my core.
Annoyed, I impulsively smack my vagina through my shorts, jolting briefly from the quick flare of pain. I need a chastity belt or something. This is absolute insanity and unrealistic for the average person.
So, why am I different? What’sreallywrong with my brain?
A lot. Too much.
I whine silently, wiping the mist on my face and heading for the curtains. Waiting for me, Razor smiles, stretching the drawn-on teeth around his pearly charm.
My stomach is tilting and influencing a grin, but the draining despondence is heavy, making my shuffle past him awkward and tense.
