Page 58 of Save Me

Jax keeps looking at me, his eyes burning for me, the love I see in those flames never wavering as I stumble over my words, confessing one of the hardest things I’ve been holding onto. It feels surreal being able to talk about something so dark and see nothing but acceptance and adoration in his eyes.

“I don’t know why I started doing this, why I want to keep doing it, but it feels right, you know?”

“I do know,” he says as he guides my hand to his chest.

My fingers travel over his skin, some of the scars visible and raised, the others hidden under the cover of dark tattoos.

“Not all of these scars are courtesy of other people,” he whispers.

I can’t help the shock as it crosses my face, his hands now guide me to his arms, and my fingers explore skin that is so familiar to me yet suddenly has a new meaning to it. My hand moves over tattoos that I know by heart, scars I have rested my head upon for countless nights, and suddenly I find myself seeing Jax in a new light.

“How did you stop?” I ask quietly.

“It was a long time ago, but I found other ways to process the pain I was feeling.”

“Such as?”

“Boxing. Fighting. Turning my pain and anger into something else, something tangible and…”

“Socially acceptable?”

“Exactly.”

“Since I’m not exactly going to be stepping into a boxing ring, and I doubt starting fights is really my thing, I don’t really know what to do.” I take a breath as Jax continues to listen to me. “I want to paint, I want to get back into the things I love,but everything seems so… pointless now. Pointless and as if it’s no longer enough to stop the hurt, to make sense of what I’m feeling. It all just seems so…”

“Meaningless?”

“Exactly,” I say, and relief washes over me at his understanding. “I didn’t intend to do this. I didn’t start scratching at my skin wanting to hurt myself or wanting to escalate it into anything further, but it just feels like it works. Like the second I feel that pain, the second my nail digs into my skin and I see red, everything that’s building within me, everything that hurts so much to hold onto is transformed into something easier to digest, something more palatable.”

He nods, and I see nothing but unfiltered understanding on his face.

“I’m not saying there’s a right or a wrong way to go about your healing journey—it’s your experience, not mine. But if you want to hurt, if that’s what makes processing this easier for you, then at least let me help you.”

I look up at him, and my heart beats quickly in my chest as nervousness and curiosity mingle together.

“Help me how?” I ask tentatively.

“In whatever way you need,” he says, his eyes darkening with desire and something more. “You need someone to talk to? I’m here. You need someone to lick your wounds for you? My tongue is yours to command. You need anything else…” He trails off as he reaches over to the windowsill, his chest pressing into me as he leans forward, and it’s then that I notice the kitchen knife Ryan took from me earlier.

“Jax…” I start tentatively.

“You want me to be here for you while you cut yourself? I’ll never leave your side. Want me to do it? Then just tell me where and I’ll do it for you. But,” he pauses as his eyes trail my body before finding my gaze again, “if you want to spend the nightfeeling a different type of pain, then I’ll keep you awake feeling all sorts of things until the sun comes up.”

“Why do you want to do this for me? To deal with me like this?” I ask, confusion coating my words as I look between him and the knife, as suspicion, and something else, something warmer, mixes within me as a result of his words.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he says simply, “so if there’s a way I can take that burden off your shoulders, to mix the pain you want to feel to remind yourself you’re alive, to release everything going on inside of you, with pleasure… a way to distract you from the darkness that you feel you’re sinking into, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

I think for a moment as I stay seated on his lap, and I find nothing but truth behind his eyes as one of his hands holds the knife while the other caresses my back.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats back.

I lean into him, my lips brushing against his ear.

“I trust you.”

He shifts forward, bringing his lips to mine. “Good, now get on the bed.”

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