Page 10 of Cut Me Down

“It’s not a big deal.” I hear that modesty isn’t attractive, but I don’t really give a fuck. I'm nice to people. Most of the time. It doesn’t take money, or extra energy to do it, and Emmett is a really sweet guy. Why wouldn’t I help him if I can? Serena’s family helped me when I needed it, and Emmett gave me every chance I could have possibly asked for. They probably saved my life. What I do isn’t extraordinary. I’m not DH. I don’t stop evil or donate to charity. I just do what I can in a shitty situation.

“How’s Charlie?” He asks, changing the subject once again. Everyone that comes to the shop knows Charlie. Hearing him speak is like a rite of passage.

“Horny, as always. He had another date tonight, so he came in this morning.”

“Did you have to sing for him again?” He bobs his head from side to side and I giggle as he jokes.

“Yeah, but Jamie brought him back by after close again. He knows I hate doing it in front of other clients.”

“Yeah, but you have an awesome voice. You should do something with it.”

“I prefer to live under the radar.” I slowly slide my free hand through the air as I speak, trying to keep the mood cool and collected. He’s silent for a moment before putting his tattoo gun down, taking a hit of his vape, and looking at me.

“He’s not stupid enough to confront you, Ash. Last I heard he moved to Seattle or some shit. You don’t have to worry anymore.” He says sincerely. His brows furrowed in a concerned state.

“I'm not worried.” Bullshit I’m not. I know that mother fucker would gut me if he had the chance. He said I made his life hell after I pressed charges finally. Go figure. “I just don’t like people, and I don’t need them liking me because I can sing. That’s vain, and I can’t stand it. I’ll sing for Charlie, it makes him happy, but I won’t do it for other people to judge me when they know nothing about me.”

He looks at me genuinely.

“You’re a wonderful, beautiful person, Ashia. Someone is going to love you the way you need one day. All you have to do is let them.”

I keep my eyes forward and try not to acknowledge what he said. I don’t need anyone to love me. Love is an excuse people use to fuck up someone they secretly loathe. True love doesn’t exist. People can love each other, I know that. Serena’s parents are a great example, but is it really possible to be able to trust someone else with your heart completely? I haven’t seen evidence of it, and I’m not sure that anything could change my opinion.

Instead of arguing, I just give him a small smile and put my ear bud in to start my ‘Sleep Token’playlist, hoping to end the conversation. I will admit that I have the flaw of avoidance, but I’m not quite ready to combat that yet. Is it really avoidance if we’ve already had that conversation? Or maybe he’s had it with himself and I just blankly listened. Same thing.

I don’t normally climb out onto my balcony on the fire escape, but the cool air and rock songs pouring out of the bar across the street might be the thing I need to calm myself down. I was having a pretty decent day, and my tattoo was feeling great. Until I drove home.

It’s never hit me like this before, maybe because we’re finally done with it, but the stinging in my arm isn’t comforting tonight. It’s haunting. Finishing the art on my arm tonight has the same feeling you get when you close a certain chapter in your life. Perhaps holding on to that pain was the only thing that kept me sane and grounded. The thing I had to grab onto to keep me from burning with my world around me.

Why couldn’t he love me? Why was I not worth the slightest bit of decency? I don’t understand. I’m not Holy Mary, or a Saint, but I’m not a terrible person. I would never have hurt him the ways he hurt me. The mind games he played still linger in my brain when a client asks me an innocent question or some random man at the grocery store accidentally bumps into me. I hate the feeling of a ghost following me. The ghost of my past.

Most of the time I’m okay with being alone. I don’t have to answer anyone or explain myself constantly, but sometimes, like tonight, I miss being with someone. Not Cooper in particular, I could never miss that, but just someone. The small moments I had to grab and mold into something they weren’t, was the only way I survived that man. The only way I was able to continue standing as he beat me down. Small moments where I believed his poisoned words of love or took his light touches as affection instead of manipulation.

I want someone to caress me gently as they take in my features, and not cower when I try to do the same to them. I want someone to bring out things in me that I didn’t expect from myself. I want to melt into someone as our bodies collide. The thought of someone wanting and loving me so much that they can’t contain themselves is alluring, and I want someone to mean it.

Girls all dream of the same things when they’re little. That they’re the princess in the tower waiting for Prince Charming to come and save them. All they had to do was make it out of the tower and past the dragon, and then they’d live happily ever after. That once the bad was over, there’d be nothing but happiness and ever after’s. I wish fairytales had taught me that it was a lie instead.

My eyes begin to sting to the realization that my Prince Charming is never coming…that type of love doesn’t exist, and even if it did, I’m too fucking damaged to accept it…

I’m so tired…I’m tired of seeking out love from others and myself. I’m tired of walking around every day with my head held high like it fucking means something. I’m tired of lying in my bed at night and hating the coldness next to me…not having another person’s heartbeat to find comfort in…tired of pleasing other people and tearing myself down in the process. It’s exhausting.

I’m so fucking tired, but I’m so fucking scared…What if I escaped one evil just to find another? What if the next is worse than the last? Predators always find their prey, and that’s exactly what I am. A meek little lamb raised for slaughter. Easy pickings for any wolf or lion to devour. I may have escaped but that doesn’t mean I ever could again. I’ve fallen too far into this deep hole of a routine that keeps me physically safe, but mentally, I’m a train wreck. What does safe matter if I’m not truly feeling? Feeling any type of emotion other than overwhelming fear and paranoia?

In the moment, I’ll laugh at jokes, and I’ll feel sympathy for something bad that happens, but I want to feel something that completely takes my breath away…I’m so tired, and my demons are slowly taking over. My mind, my body, my soul is so tired. Tired of not being loved…or cherished…I want a connection that’s suffocating.

I know I have people that care for me, especially Serena, but her life wouldn’t end if mine did. No one’s would. I suppose it’s toxic of me to want that. To want to be loved by someone so much that they would let the world burn for me, for my Prince Charming to arrive…

And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for yearning for that touch, for that kind of love…hugging myself tightly just to get a slight glimpse of what that would feel like…and I hate myself for being so fucking terrified of even the thought of it…I barely survived Cooper, and he didn’t even remotely love me…but fuck I thought I loved him, and his injuries to me physically weren’t the only thing that almost killed me…it was my own thoughts too…

Especially the ones from when I first moved into this apartment, looking down from the balcony wondering if it was tall enough to kill me if I ‘slipped’…papers already written out on the cheapest and easiest way to dispose of me after my ‘accident’, because I knew then Serena wouldn’t know what to do with my body.

I know how selfish that was, but I’ve been nothing but a burden…nothing but a walking hazard that needed to be watched over, and that night, I just couldn’t take it anymore. It took every ounce and shred of soul I had left not throw myself over the side. Picturing Serena’s face in my mind was the only thing that kept my feet on the creaky metal stairs…

The thoughts of those nights send tears streaming down my face. I’ve never told anyone about that night. Especially not Serena. I’ve kept it inside for so long, allowing it to accompany the other memories, and I’m just so tired of being strong, so tired of no one noticing that I’m not okay…that I might never be okay again. That even though I survived, I never healed.

I weakly fall to my knees as they crumble, no longer able to hold me up. The tremors in my limbs bouncing their way through to my toes. Icy air sinks into my chest as I gasp for air through my sobs. I absorb the stinging feeling in my lungs and right arm, allowing it to be my only reminder that I’m still alive.

Well, that and a lone black flower…

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