Page 87 of Saving the Rockstar

I took a step forward, my chin lifted in defiance. "I am not the broken, terrified kid you used to control. I am a survivor, a fighter. And I will not let you or anyone else ever make me feel small or worthless again."

Carter's eyes flashed with anger, his lip curling in a sneer. "Is that so? You think you're so tough now, so brave? Let's see how brave you are when I ruin everything you've built, when I tear down this little fantasy world you've created with your precious bodyguard."

He lunged for me, his hand outstretched, and I stumbled back, my heart in my throat. My fingers scrabbled for my phone, desperate to call for help, to reach Jared, but Carter was too fast. He snatched the phone from my hand, throwing it across the room with a sickening crack.

And then, before I could even react, he slapped me, hard, across the face. I reeled back, my cheek stinging, my eyes watering from the pain and shock.

"You ungrateful little bitch," he snarled, his face twisted with rage. "I offered you everything - fame, fortune, my love. And this is how you repay me? By shacking up with some meathead with a gun?"

I swallowed hard, tasting blood where my teeth had cut into my cheek. "He's not... Jared's not..."

"Jared," Carter spat, the name like poison on his tongue. "Your knight in shining armor, right? The one who's going to save you from big, bad Carter and make all your dreams come true?"

He laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. "Wake up, Asher. He doesn't love you. No one could ever love you, not really. You're damaged goods, a broken toy that I got bored of playing with."

I flinched, his words hitting me like physical blows.

"That's not true," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Jared loves me."

Carter scoffed. "Please. He's using you, just like everyone else. Just like your parents, who couldn't wait to kick you out when they found out their perfect little boy was gay."

I felt the tears coming then, hot and fast and unstoppable. Because that wound, that primal rejection, was still so raw, so agonizingly painful.

I remembered that day with brutal clarity - the disgust on my father's face, the cold, unflinching hatred in my mother's eyes as they told me to get out, to never come back.

I remembered the months that followed, the desperate scramble to survive, to find a place to belong. The gnawing hunger, the bone-deep exhaustion, the crippling loneliness that had eaten away at me until I was nothing but a shell, a husk of the boy I used to be.

And then Carter had found me, had taken me in, had promised me the world. And I had been so grateful, so pathetically eager for any scrap of affection, of acceptance, that I had let him mold me, shape me, break me down and rebuild me in his image.

And now, here he was again, dredging up all my deepest hurts, all my most intimate scars, and using them to cut me to the bone.

I felt myself crumpling, folding in on myself like a house of cards. I slid to the floor, my back against the wall, my knees drawn up to my chest as I tried to make myself as small as possible, as if I could disappear entirely if I just tried hard enough.

The tears were coming in earnest now, great, heaving sobs that tore at my throat and left me gasping for air. Dimly, through the haze of my panic, I heard Carter laugh, the sound cruel and triumphant.

"Pathetic," he sneered, looming over me like a shadow, like a specter of my darkest nightmares. "You'll always be that sniveling, worthless little boy, Asher. Always so desperate for someone to love you, to fix you. But you're beyond fixing, beyond saving. You're nothing, and you always will be."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. This was it. This was the end. I had tried so hard to be strong, to be brave, but in the end, Carter had been right. I was weak, damaged, unlovable. And now, I would pay the price for ever daring to believe otherwise.

But then, just as I was about to give in, to let the darkness take me, I heard it. A voice, a shout, a sound so achingly familiar that it cut through the fog of my despair like a beam of pure, blinding light.

"Asher!"

It was Jared, barging through the door with the force of a wrecking ball, his face a mask of fury and fear.

"Get away from him, you son of a bitch," he growled, his voice like thunder, like the wrath of God himself. "Or I swear to fucking Christ, I will end you."

Carter whirled around, his eyes going wide with shock and fear. "You," he snarled, his fists clenching at his sides. "What the fuck are you doing here? I saw you leave."

Jared didn't answer. He just lunged, crossing the room in three long strides and grabbing Carter by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs.

"I warned you," Jared said, his voice low and deadly. "I told you what would happen if you ever came near him again. But you just couldn't stay away, could you? You just had to come back and try to break him all over again."

He leaned in, his face inches from Carter's, his eyes burning with a rage that sent shivers down my spine. "You're the reason he has to deal with anxiety, with panic attacks, with nightmares that leave him shaking and crying in the middle of the night. You're the reason he doubts himself, doubts his worth, doubts his right to be loved."

Jared's grip tightened, his knuckles going white with the force of his anger. "I should kill you," he whispered, the words a promise, a vow. "I should make you suffer, the way you made him suffer."

But then, as if sensing my distress, my terror, he glanced back at me, his expression softening with concern and love. "Asher," he murmured, his voice like a caress, like a balm to my battered soul. "Baby, are you okay?"

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