Page 72 of Grace

He takes a clean kitchen cloth from the shelf and wraps it around my hand.

“Why did you do this, Grace?” he asks. His deep, resonant voice makes me dizzy.

“Because of you,” I whisper. Chase’s jaw tightens. My body shudders with fear. He steps closer until his chest presses against my breasts. My nipples harden, and a sharp, aching need stirs between my legs as the rough weave of his sweater grazes the most sensitive parts of my body. I close my eyes. His full lips brush my damp forehead, leaving a gentle kiss behind.

My lips part, and a bitter sigh escapes through them.

I lift my lashes, heavy with tears. For a fraction of a second, our gazes lock. In his irises, a dark, dangerous, unstoppable whirlpool churns.

Chase takes me in with his eyes, happiness and satisfaction blending across his face in perfect harmony. He’s always known how to make me believe how much I matter. How deeply he loves me.

“Don’t do this again,” he whispers into my ear. My body tenses.

He doesn’t get to tell me what I can or can’t do anymore. I’m a free woman. I have free will. I have the right to make decisions about my own life.

Chase brushes past me and strides over to Nikky. He growls something at her through clenched teeth, grabs her thin arm, and yanks her aggressively out of my bed. His grip tightens around her elbow. She lets out a sharp, catlike whine—but her lips curve into a seductive, provocative smile. She’s flirting with him.

“Get out—and never come near her again!”

Chase marches her out of the flat and slams the door in her face. My sister doesn’t give up without a fight—she starts pounding on the door.

“You have no right to do this, Chase! Grace is my sister!” She kicks the door. “She’s my sister—I have the right to talk to her!”

Chase turns toward me. I grab a knife from the kitchen counter.

“If you come any closer, I’ll do it, Chase.” I press the cold blade against my warm wrist. My heart hammers in my chest. I feel the pulse of the vein throbbing beneath the knife’s edge.

My hand trembles like a bird shivering on a bare branch. Still, I’m ready to follow through. I’m ready to end this madness.

Chase’s eyes fill with disbelief, but he takes a cautious step back, as if the force of my words physically drove him away. At that moment, I realize I don’t have to kill him—it’s enough to pierce my own heart. And it wouldn’t just end me. It would destroy him too.

I wanted to kill myself.

I’m crouched in the enamel bathtub, the shower beating mercilessly against my bare back. I hug my knees and rock back and forth. The harsh stream of water tears open my fresh wound. Bright red blood blooms, runs along my hand, and drips from my fingertips in a steady rhythm.

I can’t close my eyes without him.

Cyrus hadn't come home by the time he said he would, but he sent me a message telling me not to worry about him. I have no idea how I’ll explain the cut—or the fact that Nikky and Chase found me. Because I don’t want my past to destroy my life.

I laugh bitterly, then bury my face in my hands.

I don’t even have a life.

They destroyed me. All of them. They each took a piece of that girl who fell asleep in the evening dreaming sweet fantasies and woke up in the morning full of desires and plans.

My parents died in a car crash. Jamie was shot before my eyes. My sister beat me half to death, then her boyfriend and his friends raped me. And Chase Baker…

I hate you, Chase. With all my heart—because you got what you wanted. I fell in love with you. But I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want you anywhere near me. Because you’re the one who did the most damage to my heart. You’re the one who robbed me of the chance to be a normal person. You stole my ability to know what proper love should feel like. You took away my chance to go to school, to experience the ordinary ups and downs of being a teenager. You robbed me of my parents’ love. You tore my heart from my chest and watched my soul wither.

When I hear Cyrus’s car pull into the driveway, I turn off the shower, dry myself quickly, and wrap my hair in a towel. I put a simple bandage on my hand to stop the bleeding, then slip into panties and a T-shirt. I crawl into bed quickly and squeeze my eyes shut. Still, I know Cyrus isn’t an idiot—the bathroom is thick with steam.

He kicks off his worn military boots and tosses his keys onto the kitchen table. My heart jumps into my throat.

He rummages around in the kitchen, then pauses in the doorway for a second. The dead silence is shattered by my phone beeping sharply. Someone has texted me. The air feels dry against my throat. My heart pounds like that of a rabbit caught in a trap. Pure terror floods my body, and I don’t reach for my phone until Cyrus closes the bathroom door behind him and I hear the sound of water splashing.

The harsh light of my phone makes me blink. I open the message, and a sharp, unbearable pain pierces my heart, as if someone were twisting a knife inside me. Even though this news shouldn’t hurt this much.

Wendy: It’s done. Hope you’re happy now.