Page 25 of Ruin Me Gently

No. Screw this. This wasn’t happening.

I wasn’t a defenceless child anymore. I wasn’t a little girl at the mercy of a full-grown man. I wasn’t going to let Clark warp the truth, twisting my emotions into something irrational because it madehimfeel better.

I was trembling as I straightened my spine, but my voice didn’t waver. “You’ve been nothing but rude and condescending to me. And youhurtme. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you in my life anymore.”

His expression shifted into a look I knew too well. It was the same one Wayne wore whenever I pushed back, spoke too loud, or took up too much space. The subtle clench of the jaw, the slow, measured exhale through the nose. The calculated patience meant to make me feel small, irrational, wrong.

“Lilith, you’re not thinking clearly. You never do.”

I pushed up and strode to the door, hands shaking as I curled my fingers around the handle and pulled it open, gesturing toward the night air. “You can leave now.”

He stood slowly, smoothing down the front of his shirt as he stepped forward. But instead of heading out the door, he backed me into it until it clicked shut.

My breath caught, spine pressing into the wood, every nerve screaming danger.

“You don’t see it because you’re upset,” he said, his hand coming up to brush the side of my cheek. “But we’re perfect together. You and me?We work.”

I swallowed hard, my jaw locking.

“You make me better, Lils. I make you better. This—” he motioned between us, “this is what you need. What we both need.”

Any second now, my dinner was going to do a dramatic reappearance, right onto his overpriced, pretentious-ass shoes.

“I love you, Lils.”

Oh hell no.

A cold, hollow laugh escaped my lips. “Love me?” I echoed. “Clark, you don’t evenlikeme. Get out.”

“Angel, come on—”

“Get the fuck out. Now!”

I braced for the impact. Waiting for the inevitable burn of a slap or a grab.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, he stepped back, his face twisting into something vile. “Fine,” he spat. “But don’t you darecome crawling back when you realise no one else will put up with you.”

The words should’ve hurt. Maybe once, they would have. Maybe once, I would have believed them. But now, they just sounded desperate.

“Move.” He said.

I shifted out of the way, and he yanked the door back open, stepping out without another glance, slamming it behind him.

My body snapped into action. I spun, hands trembling as I locked the deadbolt, snapped the chain into place, double-checked both, and pressed my palm against the door.

Tears burned in my eyes, but not from fear.

Not from him.

Not from his words.

Because I’d done it.

I’d stood my ground. He was gone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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