Page 50 of Ruin

“Charlie.”

Fingers curled over a strawberry ice-cream split, I still.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Lala snaps from the opposite side of the kitchen island.

Sighing, I grab the ice lolly, and kick the freezer closed. Staying on my side of the kitchen unit, I cock my head at where she stands in the dark. The lights from the hall casting her shadow across the length of the dark room.

“Since when do you eat ice cream?” she asks in confusion, screwing her face up as she stares at my hand.

“What do you what?” I ask her roughly, every muscle in my body tightening, wanting to get back downstairs.

Wide eyes looking hollowed out in the dark, like they’ve sunken inside her head, she blinks at me, one long slow blink, and slams her hands onto her hips. Long black talons curling over them. Oversized black t-shirt hanging off of one tattooed shoulder, the bottom of it tucked into the front of her high waisted black jeans. Her straight white hair is down, parted in the middle, tucked behind both pierced ears, hanging down her back.

“Are you fucking joking?” she scoffs, shaking her head. “I don’t see you for days. You go on a job with the fucking Russians,” she sucks in a deep breath, eyes momentarily fluttering closed before snapping back open. “AND GET BLOWN UP!” she screams, making my ears pop.

She slaps her hands down onto the marble countertop between us, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She drops her head forward, hair curtaining her from me and I’m glad. I don’t want to look at her. I don’t want to be in the same room as her. I don’t even want to be in the same country as her right now.

She laughs, head shaking like she’s heard my thoughts. And I wouldn’t be surprised, we have always had such a close, intricate connection, we’ve never needed to use many words.

I don’t know how we’ve ended up here.

Like this.

Canting my head, she looks up at me from beneath those heavy, black fans of lashes. Grey-green orbs blown wide.

“You’re unbelievable,” she whispers it, the words skating down my spine, hair raising up the length of my arms. “You won’t answer my calls,” she swallows. “You don’t talk to me. You can’t wait to be away from me, escape me at every fucking opportunity,” she chokes on the words as she expels them in a breath, staring at me.

I stare back at her, emotionless, because she doesn’t get to keep doing this to me.

“What of it?” I ask, not denying it’s true.

“Are youwithhim, Charl?” she asks with a false calm.

Hands still splayed over the marble, hair draped forward of her shoulders, her face shadowed, body backlit by the light in the hall.

She looks like a fucking demon.

“Is that what it is? You’re fucking that Russian scum, so I’m what? Not good enough for you anymore?” Lala scoffs again, shaking her head, she pushes up from the island, flicking her hair back over her shoulders. “It’s a shame he didn’t burn alive in that explosion.”

My grip crushes the ice lolly in my hand and my feet are pounding around the island between us, flinging the frozen treat aside before either one of us can blink. Kyla-Rose spins around, staring up at me, wide eyed, as I walk straight into her, my hand curling around her throat. I shove her back, her lower spine crunching as she hits the marble.

“What did you just fucking say to me?” I breathe the words over her mouth, plucking at her lips with every word. My eyes flicker between hers, “Repeat it,” I order her, a snarl curling my top lip.

Her eyes flash, her lips mimicking mine, “I said,” she whispers, leaning into me, “it’s a fucking shame,” she spits, my fingers flexing on her throat. “That your vile cunt of a boyfriend, didn’t. Fucking. Die!”

The words fly out of her in a strangled scream, spittle hitting my face as she pushes herself harder against my tightening hand. Her own shoving and slapping at my exposed abs, but I don’t move, staring into her hateful, sorrow filled eyes. She pants for breath, screaming in frustration through her gritted teeth.

“Let go of me, Charlie,” she seethes, teeth bared, nostrils flaring.

Applying more pressure to her throat, her back bowing backwards over the counter, her hands grab hold of the edge of the marble.

“Charlie! Get the fuck off of me!” she thrusts herself forwards, trying to knock me free, but I step in closer, hips pinning her in place.

I know she has a gun on her, she always does, likely a nice array of knives and pointy weaponry too, but she won’t use it on me. She thinks she’ll hurt me, and we both know what happens to my dick when that happens. It almost makes me want to laugh.

Head cocked, I squeeze her neck tighter, brush my lips across her cheek.

“Are you jealous, Lala?” I breathe into her ear. “That what this is?” I lick up the length of her ear, cool metal studs bumping over the flat of my tongue. “A cry for attention?” I hum a laugh against her temple, my lips parted against her scarred skin. “You miss me, Lala?” I hush the words into her cheek, lips mauling lightly over her upper cheekbone. “You want me to tell you, I miss you too?” my voice creaks like phantom footsteps in the upper floors of a haunted house. “You upset that he gets to fuck me now,” the words whispering off of my tongue. “And you don’t?”

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