I sat behind the desk, my face emotionless as I watched Viktor, the prick who came here every second week of the month to collect a fraction of the bar's profits from the beer sales, count the money I had handed him.
I'd stopped offering to buy him out of the contract since it became clear he got off on me asking. I would kill him, but it wouldn't render the contract void and my people did business with his Boss. It would be too much trouble, dealing with a war against these people.
After a moment, he placed the bills back in the envelope before tucking it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He lifted his eyes, meeting mine.
"You seem to be a few dollars short, Red," he said, his voice calm and leveled.
I took out the log book from the drawer and dropped it on the table.
"We had to do some repairs in the rest rooms."
He didn't even spare it a glance as he offered a tight smile, barely enough to mend the horrifying scar that went from his jaw to his collar bone in a slant. I'd left that after he pulled out a gun on me when I denied his sexual advances a few years back. He got pissed. Really bad. But it only got him aroused, if not, more. The prick was a self-proclaimed sadist.
Too bad I didn't do crazy fuckers who liked to get bloody when fucking. I had my limits. This ain't American Psycho and he was no Christian Bale.
"I see," he said but I knew he didn't like it.
It was never good when Viktor didn't like something. I didn't have the energy or patience to deal with one of his tantrums.
"We'll have the rest added on next month's collection," I assured him.
He nodded in satisfaction. He knew I never went back on my word, even though Mikey was known otherwise. That's why I had to save his ass from these people a few years ago.
He had owed them a shit ton of money since he was stupid enough to ask the fucking Mafia to help finance the production of his beer, offering them a 25% share on the profits in fucking perpuity. If Mindy hadn't come barging in on MJ and I fucking in a bathroom stall while they were collecting on Mikey's overdue payments, he would have had his head blown off.
By the time I'd arrived in the office, they had already taken his fucking knees. I whipped out my cheque book from my bag, asking how much Mikey owed them. Viktor merely laughed, saying they didn't do business with pretty little girls and he sure as hell wasn't accepting a check. I lost my shit and, after properly introducing myself with a knife, I demanded for the price. When he told me, I nearly slit his throat. I would have if Mindy hadn't been there.
They were going out of their way to try and kill the fool for a measly seventy-five thousand godforsaken dollars. I made more in a fucking week doing nothing.
I wired the money from one of my accounts right then and there, with an extra zero as a gesture of good will and fuck you. Mikey had kicked up a fuss even as he was lying crippled on the floor and I knocked him out with the bat they'd used to break his knees just so he got it to his damn head that this shit was life and death.
And now here I was, doing shady deals under the table for people I had unintentionally attached myself to.
Ever since I paid for Mikey's life, I had been the only person Viktor did business with. MJ was too easily provoked, Mindy was too young, and Mikey's been crippled by the fuckers. Which was why I was dreading to have to talk to MJ about my move to England for medical school by the end of the summer.
Viktor stood, effectively ending this business meeting. "I'll see you next month then."
I nodded, getting to my feet. "Send my regards to Stefano."
He smirked. "The Boss would prefer it if you did that personally."
I gave him a flat look. "I won't fuck you, what makes you think I'll fuck that thing?"
Viktor laughed and stuck a hand between us. I shook it out of courtesy. He turned for the door and I followed as they went out, making sure they didn't decide it would be fun to shoot the place up.
We passed the bar and I stopped there, watching them exit the place. I glanced at MJ and he offered a curt nod while mixing a drink.
I looked back at my booth and caught Rick's gaze on me. I stilled, knowing the parade of questions he was going to ask. I could practically hear them already. This man just can't seem to keep his ass out of shit he shouldn't be concerned about. Especially me.
But for some reason, I walked towards him, flipping on the switch and smiling as I slid back onto his lap. I liked looking at the bitch's face who was all over him earlier from where I was sitting. I smiled when she looked at me. She flinched and immediately averted her eyes.
"Who were they?" Rick whispered beside my ear.
I held back any reaction and leaned against him. "Who?"
"You know who, Angel."
I tilted my head, feigning confusion. "Who? Voldemort?"
He gave me a glare but decided not to press further. I had a feeling he was going to badger me about the damn thing later.
I turned my attention back to his friends, striking up a conversation about some medical discovery I had no interest in but they did. An hour later, Bradley, who seemed to be more of a prick than the usual people of their kind, claimed they should get going. I offered them another round of beers but he declined, claiming they were going to drive and apologized for our earlier encounter. I shrugged it off.
I was thankful I wouldn't have to do this whole bullshit act any longer and we offered our farewells. To my misfortune, Rick stayed behind while I cleared the table, just silently watching me.
"Spit it out," I said, not bothering to look at him.
"Why? You're not going to give me an answer anyway," he said like the asshole that he was.
I rolled my eyes and just walked away, my arms full of empty bottles while he followed me. I ignored him and headed for the bar, placing the bottles in the cases while he stood there.
"So how was the court hearing?" he suddenly asked. "I heard in the news it was today. How did it go?"
I casted him a glare. "None of your fucking business."
"It is, actually. Since the prosecutor contacted me for my account regarding your state the night you were arrested."
I stiffened. "And what'd you say?"
"Nothing."
I eyed him suspiciously. "Nothing?"
He shrugged. "My Dad always told me that unless I was subpoenaed, I wasn't obligated to talk about anything to anyone. Even then, the fifth is my only answer."
I snorted. "He sounds smart."
"He should be. He's a lawyer."
"Right, I forgot."
"So how did it go? The hearing."
I sighed and snapped my fingers at the man sitting on the stool across from me.
"Fuck off."
The man frowned, drawing his head back as he looked at me in confusion. I leaned closer to him, placing my palms flat on the bar.
"You deaf or somethin'? I said fuck off."
He muttered something under his breath before getting off the stool and walking away. I gestured a hand towards the empty stool and Rick shook his head, sighing as he took a seat.
"The charges were dropped after I paid an undisclosed amount and agreed to attend rehab," I told him as I fixed a dirty martini for a patron.
His brows raised. "When are you starting?"
I snorted as I tossed the ingredients in a mixer and stirred them.
"I already did."
He frowned at my words and I smirked, pouring the concoction in a glass before sliding it forward for the waiting patron and accepting the bill she handed.
"Officially, Vivien Angel Howard-Lastor entered a rehab facility this afternoon for alcohol dependency."
I opened the cash register to gather some change, holding up the three single bills for the lady to see before shoving them in the tip jar. She rolled her eyes and walked away.
"In reality," I went on. "My four person defense counsel got some chick who can easily be mistaken as me at first glance to do the treatment for me in exchange for an obscene amount of money."
"That's fraud," he said in disbelief. "You could go to jail if the authorities found out!"
I caught someone order bourbon. Two fingers. Neat. I grabbed a glass and filled it before sliding it towards the guy and putting it on his tab.
"The facility I'm technically in is affiliated with Lastor International. By that, I mean we own it."
A guy yelled out for six shots of tequila while I caught the guy sitting beside Rick gesture for a refill on his whiskey.
"Unless anyone in the staff wants to commit career suicide, they ain't talking," I said as I quickly served their orders.
"You're unbelievable."
"I've been called worse." I shrugged, wiping the counter clean and slinging the towel over my shoulder. "Now, is that all you want? Cuz I got shit to do and you're distracting me."
He shook his head almost incredulously. "I need a beer."
"Aren't you driving?"
"Okay, a glass of water then."
I eyed him for a moment, seeing his apparent distress. "Why are you acting like you're the one who's guilty?"
"Because I took responsibility of you when I brought you out of the hospital and if, god forbid, you run someone over because of your stupidity, it's gonna be on me. That's fucking why, Angel."
I stared at him for a moment but he just scoffed, shaking his head and saying how I didn't understand. How I didn't care about anything. How I was selfish. How I should be responsible for my actions. He was pissing me off.
The costumers were pushing and yelling over each other. I focused on them, catching all their orders by ear. Two whiskeys. One vodka martini. Two Long Island Iced Tea. Twelve beers. One gin and tonic. One rum and coke. Three cosmos. One daquiri.
I grabbed the corresponding glasses to each drink and set them on the counter. I served the whiskeys first and then the beers before going ahead with mixing the cocktails. I finished all the orders within under ten minutes and turned back to Rick.
"A friend of mine from boarding school hit two people with his car once," I began, staring at the counter. "We were racing and he didn't see the couple on the crosswalk until it was too late. The wife died upon impact while the husband was in a coma for a few days before being declared brain dead. My friend was rich enough to avoid jail time and his parents also paid off the victims' family to keep them quiet. He got so fucked up over it that he changed completely. Before, he was a dedicated athlete who wouldn't even sit in the same vicinity as someone smoking pot but after he killed those people, he became a worse addict than me and barely talked to anyone aside from his girlfriend. When she got sick of dealing with his shit, she broke up with him. So he stabbed her eighteen times before raping her corpse. His parents' money couldn't spare him that time because the girl happened to be the youngest child of the richest man in Russia. He was kidnapped while being transported to prison and his body was found in a riverbed weeks later with his fingers, tongue, and cock shoved down his throat."
I looked at him, my hands curling around the edges of the counter tightly.
"I may do a lot of stupid shit but I'll never be stupid enough to drive if I know I can't control my actions. I always keep my head together while I'm on the wheel and believe it or not, I drive better when I'm drunk. If I ever do run someone over, you'll best believe I won't accept anything less than a ten year sentence. But if you think I'll willingly do time for not killing those kids, you're shitting yourself. I may have been drunk but I passed all the sobriety tests except the breathalyzer. I can't help that my alcohol tolerance is higher than the fucking legal limit."
I picked up a glass, filling the damn thing with water and slamming it down in front of him.
"That all?"
He pursed his lips, glaring at me. "For now."
I sighed and moved away from him and towards the other side of the bar, facing the rest of the patrons and taking their orders. MJ slid by me.
"You good?" he asked.
"Fan-fucking-tastic," I spat while mixing a margarita for some dumb bitch that looked like she wasn't even old enough to be out this late but I didn't give a shit right now.
MJ chuckled while he wiped the surface of the counter. I decided to make my opening line.
"I need to talk to you about something, by the way," I said, playing it cool.
He looked over his shoulder, arching a brow. "Yeah? About what?"
I sighed, pouring the margarita in a glass and sliding it by the girl. "Medical school."
He looked at me for a moment before straightening. "You moving?"
I shrugged. "Not till the end of the summer."
He nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "Where?"
I glanced at him, and then at Mindy who was flirting with the goddamn costumers instead of serving them before muttering a quick, "England", under my breath.
He seemed to mull over the damn word for a moment before nodding.
"Okay," he said and went back to his own fair share of work.
He always did that when he was holding back from saying anything else. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
I wasn't willing to admit it out loud but these people had been a family to me. If there would be any reason that I'd reconsider Cambridge, it would be them. But I already made my decision and I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of this godforsaken country. Call me selfish, really. I don't give a shit.
I just went on with the work, going around the tables to clear them out every now and then. Rick still had his stubborn ass on the stool he was sitting on and barely touched the glass of water I had given him. By the last call at two in the morning, I was stiff, bristling with some sort of unknown anger.
Rick was just watching me, sometimes telling some drunken fool off whenever they'd try hitting on me as if I needed someone to defend my honor. I was too tired to deal with anything, especially him.
When we were cleaning out the bar after the last of the patrons left, Rick actually helped. MJ had been passing me questioning looks but I just ignored him. Mindy was chatting away with Rick while I listened with half an ear as I audited the night's profits.
"So how come you wanted to be a doctor?" Mindy asked as they cleared out a table.
"Honestly?"
"Wouldn't want it any other way," she chirped, flirting like an idiot.
I was tempted to have her facing the wall at one corner. I always made her do that whenever she pissed me off by being too damn annoying for her own good. Sometimes, I did it whenever I caught her pickpocketing our patrons for fun.
Rick chuckled, shrugging. "I've always dreamt to become one and someday, I want to travel the world and help the people in need," he said while he carried on cleaning a table.
I wanted to throw a boot at his head.
"I went on a vacation to Thailand once with my family when I was young. My Mom loves children and we went to visit an orphanage on our last day there. There was this kid, his name was Channarong, and he was a few years older than I was back then but he looked my age at how malnourished he was. I don't know why but that just stuck to me. It made me realize how lucky I was and I started appreciating what I had more. Not just the things I was given, but my family most especially. Ever since then, I'd travel whenever I can and go to orphanages on my last day, just to meet kids like Channarong and somehow offer them something. Sometimes, I bring food or clothes for them. But really, I just want to encourage them that life may be hard at times but they shouldn't let it knock them down because someday it will be worth it."
Everyone in the room had stopped and stared at him. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head while I wondered, not for the first time, if this guy was even real. He was and it pissed me off for some reason.
"It's stupid but we all have our hopes and dreams. That's mine, I guess," he said, chuckling awkwardly.
"Hey, Red!" Mindy called while she stared at Rick still.
I looked away from him when he looked over at me and settled my attention on counting the bills.
"What?"
"Questo ragazzo." (This guy.)
I glanced at her, seeing her openly pointing at Rick while looking at me.
"E 'troppo fottutamente bene per voi." (He's too fucking good for you.)
She was three seconds away from facing the goddamn wall.
I pursed my lips, meeting Rick's eyes. The sincerity. The passion. The kindness. They were all there in his eyes. Making me look like the devil in contrast to him.
"lo so." (I know) I said before bringing my attention back to my work.
"Why the hell are you with her?" Mindy went on as if I couldn't hear her.
"I'm not." "He's not." Rick and I said in unison.
I looked up just as Rick turned to look at me. We glared at each other. Mindy laughed as she looked at us.
"You guys are actually really cute together!"
I set my glare on her. "Corner. Now." She made a face, pouting like a child. "Do it before I make you, kid."
She huffed, dropping the trash bag she was holding and stomping her way to some corner, facing the wall like the errant child that she was.
"Stay there and shut your fucking mouth."
"Fuck you!" she fired back while facing the wall.
"Want me to fuck your mouth with soap, kid?"
She didn't answer, just folded her arms and sat cross legged on the floor.
"That's what I thought," I muttered before collecting the coins from the cash register.
Rick was glaring at me. I couldn't see it but I could practically feel the harsh intensity of his glare. I ignored it and started separating the coins.
"Mindy, come back here. Don't listen to her," I heard him say.
I glanced at her, catching her look over her shoulder. "Wall, Miranda."
"You can't order her around, Angel."
"I can."
"No, you can't. She's a human being not a toy you own."
Toy. I was starting to really hate that word.
I curled my fist around the coins I was holding and looked up at him, our glares practically sizzling as they met. My anger towards him was just boiling, simmering, burning.
"Is that it, prick? You've got your panties in a twist because of that?"
I threw the coins on the counter as I got to my feet, making my way over to him, stopping till we were face to face. We weren't even touching and yet his proximity just burned me.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again since you were too fucking stupid to understand it the first time. You are not my fucking toy. And she's not either. I tell her what to do and she does it because she knows I know what's good for her. She's alive because she listens to the shit I tell her to do. Every fucking person in this goddamn bar is alive because they listen to me. So don't fucking think I treat her like shit. I'll fucking kill for that girl. So fuck off if you're just going to keep bitching about shit you don't know like a fucking imbecile."
I huffed out a breath, turning on my heel and marching back to the bar.
I fucking hated looking at him. I hated what I saw in his eyes when he looked at me. The hatred. He hated me and I hated it.
If he hated me so damn much then why the fuck is he even sticking around?
I sat back on the stool, starting over with counting the coins since the dumb fuck was fucking with my concentration.
"Red," MJ called.
"What?"
"Go home. I'll handle this."
"You know jack shit about accounting, babe."
I heard him sigh before walking towards me, standing behind me. "Go home, Red. I got this. I need to learn how to do this shit anyways. You and Mindy aren't always here to do it."
I ignored him and just went on counting the coins but he snatched them from my palm.
"Seriously. I can't rely on you all the damn time and it looks like you got some shit that needs attention. Just give me the details on this accounting crap so I don't fuck it up," he said, offering a tight smile when I looked over my shoulder. "Don't make me drag you out of here, babe."
I sighed, wiping my hands on my lap. "Listen fucking well."
He moved closer, resting his chin on my shoulder as he placed his hands on the edges of the counter.
"I'm all yours, babe."
I rolled my eyes. "Make sure you separate the bills in groups, along with the coins. Write everything down by the penny and write the sum total of everything by the end. Don't forget to put your signature to validate it. I haven't counted the empty bottles yet. You have to do that too. Every brand on its own group. If there are any broken bottles, write them down too and how many there are. Paulie will talk to you about all the food that went out of the kitchen, you need to write all those shit down. You can check some of the old audits if you get confused or ask Mindy. It's all the same. Don't fucking rip a page if you have too many erasures, just fold it. And you know the combinations to the safe right?"
I paused, glancing at him and glaring at the sight of the goddamn smile on his goddamn face.
"Yes, Ma'am."
I sighed. "I'm gonna hire a fucking accountant by the end of this month. I don't want you fucking up anything."
Like I expected, he rolled his eyes at it. "Red, we don't need an accountant," he said for what seemed like the millionth time.
"If you don't fucking want an accountant, then go to fucking college and get a goddamn degree in Accountancy like I've been telling you!"
He rolled his eyes again as he shifted to stand beside me. "You and Mindy don't have degrees on Accountancy but you've been doing this shit for years," he grumbled like a fucking child instead of the thirty fucking year old war veteran that he was.
"I was tutored by retired CEOs in every aspect of business management from age five to eighteen, and literally just graduated with an Economics degree minoring in Finance."
He rolled his eyes for the third time. "Fine. You're ten folds smarter than me. But, seriously, college is just a waste of money."
I slapped the back of his head. "It's not, you dumb fuck."
He snickered, his brown eyes alight with amusement as he rubbed the back of his head. I glared at him.
"This isn't a joke, Michael. You want this place to go bankrupt? Cuz I'm not going to waste my goddamn time here if you do."
He sighed, my words sobering him. "I'll go to college when I get enough money to, okay? We've talked about this."
"No. We've argued about this. And I already told you, I'll handle the goddamn tuition fees."
He scoffed. "Like hell am I taking your charity."
I glared at him and he raised his palms up as if in surrender as he drew back.
"Yeah, yeah, it's not charity. You're gonna make me pay for it by doing some volunteer work and shit like Mindy. Yeah, I know."
He rolled his eyes, obviously not believing that bullshit line.
"Stop rolling your fucking eyes at me." He only rolled his eyes again while grinning. I shook my head exasperatedly. "If I see that you missed even one beer bottle tomorrow, I'll start bringing in applicants."
He nodded. "Got it. Thanks."
"Thanks my ass."
I got off the stool and he caught me off guard when he suddenly tackled me in a tight embrace.
"The hell?"
I tried to shake him off but he only held me tighter.
"Thank you. Really. For everything. I owe you. And I really fucking love ya, Red. We all do. Especially Mindy," he murmured.
"I can't breathe, asshole," I hissed.
He chuckled, kissing my ear. "I expect a farewell fuck before you go to England, okay?"
I rolled my eyes, pushing him off me. "Grow up."
He grinned, grabbing my face and planting an audible kiss on my lips. When he pulled away, I slapped his head.
"Brush your fucking teeth, you taste like rotten tomato."
He broke into a fit of laughter. I rolled my eyes and put my jacket on, turning to face Mindy.
"Get up and help MJ with this shit, kid," I ordered and she obeyed without fret. "See you later, dumb fucks. I want this place spotless when I come back," I said while striding towards the door and a chorus of chuckles and 'bye' answered to me.
I lit up the last stick of cigarette left in my pack as I walked along the sidewalk, ignoring the sound of footsteps behind me.
"I'll drive you," Rick said.
"I'd rather walk."
"It's three in the morning, Angel."
"Didn't ask," I muttered while flicking off the ashes of my cigarette.
I heard him sigh before grabbing my arm and dragging me.
"Let go of me!"
He ignored me and took long strides towards his car while I stumbled, trying to catch up with him. He took out his keys, pointing it at the car and it beeped in recognition. He yanked the passenger door out and shoved me inside, my head hitting the roof. It hurt like a fucking bitch.
Now I was pissed.
I pushed the door open just as he was rounding up the front of the car and got out.
"What the fuck is your goddamn problem, prick?"
He turned around, matching my glare as he came towards me.
"You! You're my fucking problem!" he bit out, jabbing his finger at me.
I scoffed. "You're the one who can't stay the fuck away from me, asshole!"
"I have been staying away from you but you fucking dragged me in some room and kissed me, you fucking bitch!" he snarled, the look in his eyes burning me.
The anger, the hatred, it cut through me.
"I can't deal with this shit right now," I said, too tired to start with him and just walked off.
"Get in the goddamn car, Angel!"
"Fuck off!"
I heard him let out groan and then he was dragging me again. I tried to push him off me but he merely threw me against the side of his car and before I knew it, we were kissing.
I didn't fight it. I let out my anger in him this way. I kissed him back, our lips mashing harshly together, a burst of fire blazing between us, making an inferno out of the intense wave of fury and twisted desire that we shared for each other. All hell broke loose as we fucked each other's mouths.
His fingers tore through my hair, gripping and pulling while he pressed his body against mine, his straining member pushed between us. I parted my legs, letting him settle against my center and he thrust against me. It was almost painful, the aching inside me, and I groaned, dragging my nails along his neck.
He bit my lower lip, drawing it between his teeth and sucking the blood that gushed out of the small cut he made. I was panting like a rabid bitch, my legs coming around his waist as I leapt up, my ankles hooking together as I held onto him for dear life. His lips strayed away from mine, trailing sloppy kisses along the side of my neck, biting and sucking.
"You drive me so fucking crazy," he hissed.
I was about to say the exact same thing but words failed me when he bit the crook of my neck hard enough to hurt. I threw my head back, groaning and gritting my teeth together to hold back a sharp cry of pleasure. He licked off the bruising I knew he'd made with his tongue, placing kisses on my skin as if to kiss it better. The fire inside me grew wilder, my lust becoming rampant.
"Fuck me already," I bit out.
We needed to fuck this out or I'd lose my shit.
"No," he said before drawing his head back.
We were panting, our glares burning while my skin felt scalded. I wanted to rip his head off.
"The fuck do you want?" I hissed.
He smirked, his eyes darker. "I want you, Angel."
Those words had me coming down, slamming, and crashing back to grounds of reality.
"No."
His glare darkened. "Stop playing games with me."
"I'm not playing shit!" I yelled out in frustration.
"Then what the hell are you doing? Pulling me in and pushing me away! It's exhausting! You're in my fucking head all the goddamn time!"
Same here, prick.
I've barely had any sleep in the past month. It was getting worse. Before, I only had my demons ransacking my mind. Now, I had him. He won't get the fuck out. I've given up on making him disappear by drowning myself in alcohol and poisoning myself with drugs. They would not fucking work. They only worsened it because my drunken and drugged brain would only go back to him. And just... fuck this shit.
I sighed, closing my eyes as I leaned my head back against the roof the car. I was so tired. I wanted to rest. My body was begging for it and I knew I was close to shutting down. Three to four hours of restless sleep every two days was not enough and it didn't help that I often woke up screaming and drenched in cold sweat.
I opened my eyes half way, looking up at the dark sky. I envied how silent the night was. My head was filled with far too much noise.
"I'm so tired," I whispered.
"I know," he whispered back.
I leveled my head with my shoulders, looking at him. He sighed, bringing a hand to brush my hair with his fingers as he looked at me in that way again. That... that fucking gentle and affectionate way I detested. I didn't know what to do with that fucking look.
"I see it in your eyes. Just stop hiding," he said, those blue eyes of his pushing their way into my walls.
I scowled, his words bidding my walls to come back up.
"Stop it. You don't want to see the shit inside me, Rick."
He pursed his lips, his eyes determined. "Why?"
I cracked a smile. "Because you don't want to end up like me, babe," I said, shaking my head at the thought.
I may not give a shit about most things but this, I gave a shit about this. I would never want anyone to suffer this sort of perpetual pain. They'd grow crazy a night inside my head while wanting to kill themselves every fucking second of it. The worse thing was, they'd hold back. Hold on. Why? Because suffering in silence was better than hurting the people around them with their self-inflicted death.
Rick moved closer to me, his eyes filled with concern and I didn't get why he cared. He hated me. Why should he care?
"Give me a number."
My brows creased at that. "What?"
"A number. One to ten. Tell me. How much pain are you feeling?" he asked, his voice somber while his eyes remained fixed on mine, digging. "Show me. Just give me something here."
I swallowed hard, staring back at him, letting the silence linger between us. I waited for him to back off. To walk away. To pretend this thing between us was nothing. But he didn't. He just waited.
I placed a finger on the exposed skin of his neck, digging my nail into it with as much force as I could until I saw his eyes falter with pain. And then I dragged it down, feeling his body stiffen as the skin tore, a trickle of blood gushing out of the small wound.
"That much."
I dug my nail back into the same wound again. I was sure it stung like a bitch but he didn't make a sound.
"And this much." I dragged his flesh down, his hold on me tightening. "Just like this. Over and over. Inside me. Every fucking day. Every fucking second. Bleeding me fucking dry with no fucking end. Tearing me limb from limb. Ripping me apart. Breaking me into pieces. Consuming me. Every inch of me. Inside out," I hissed, as I raked my nail over the wound repeatedly while I kept my gaze on the blood dripping from his flesh.
His breathing was heavy, coming out in fast short paces as I tore at his flesh. I stopped, catching myself and snapping my eyes to his. Pain was evident in his eyes but I was certain it barely held a candle to mine.
"Don't mock me, Rick. One to fucking ten is not enough. It barely covers the pain I feel every time I have to wake up in the morning."
He let out a breath, screwing his eyes shut as if he couldn't bear looking at me anymore, looking at what he's been trying to see as I offered it to him. It was barely a glimpse.
He pressed his forehead against mine. "What happened to you, Angel? For god sakes, tell me," he said through gritted teeth.
He opened his eyes, the anger coming back in his eyes, but for once, it wasn't directed at me.
"Tell me, baby."
I sighed, shaking my head as I held the side of his face. "You're too good for me. For this. I refuse to ruin you too, Frederick," I whispered softly.
He groaned before diminishing the space between us as he took my lips in his, a sense of despair apparent in his kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting myself breathe for a moment as he offered my lungs a few intakes of air.
My demons grew wild, as if they protested of me relieving myself from a fraction of the pain that was filling me. I ignored them. I let him in against better reasoning. I was so tired of being alone. Of being in pain. I just wanted to breathe without wanting to rip my throat out.