Page 81 of Burning Ember
I lost a lot of hard-earned respect tonight. Men who are supposed to be following me, men I’ve long considered brothers, are now questioning me, my judgment . . . my fucking sanity.
They have every right to.
I let the venom of hate I have for Dana fester and build until I’ve become somewhat of a snake myself.
With my hands braced on the sink, I stare at the stranger in the mirror.
My enlarged pupils make my eyes appear darker. Haunted. Bruises bloom across my face, and as I open my tender jaw, the gash on my lip splits open, causing blood and a coppery taste to spill into my mouth. I sheared off my hair all those years ago and every few weeks since, because I wanted to banish the man in me who’d fallen for a girl like Dana. The good guy she’d taken advantage of.
I realize I’ve finally succeeded.
I don’t see the man my parents raised anymore. The kid who attended church every Sunday. The guy who graduated at the top of his class, because learning came easy and he always had a knack for drawing steady lines and remarkable things. I don’t see the restless saint. The one who foolishly thought he could dip his foot in the river of sin and not get pulled under.
The only good I see in my reflection is the biblical stories told on my arm, and the words of God inked on my chest.He discovers deep things out of the darkness and brings out to light the shadow of death. ~Job 12:22.
Words that hold a whole new meaning for me now.
My hands grip the ivory sink as regret washes over me. I clench my eyes shut. God . . . I’ve fucked up . . .
I clung to awiltin’ black rose.And instead of changing her, I let her change me.
Now I’m drowning in darkness . . . And I’ve just attacked the only person who’s brought any color to my dark world.
Doll.
Yet I treat her like she’s Dana.
One deserves the man I am now. The man she made me into. The other does not. Doll wasn’t the catalyst that changed me. Yet she’s the one dealing with the fallout.
She’s just lookin’ for a place to land where someone will give a fuck about her. She’s fightin’ to survive. Give her a goddamn chance to.
She’s fighting for a future. A future I almost took from her, because I was too lost in my own pain to see hers.
Cap called it when I first told him I wanted to claim Dana as my property. He knew she’d wreck me. He said, “That girl doesn’t give a shit about her tomorrows. She’s got no plan. No dreams. Cares for nothin’ beyond what gives her a rush. She’s gonna drag you down, brotha. That’s not the kind a girl you should be claimin’.”
Glancing down at my sleeve of tattoos, I see the redheaded Eve and rub my thumb over her face. I didn’t listen. I thought I’d found my Eve and I was ready to start my life.
But I’m starting to think I justfellfor the wrong redheaded girl. The fake replica, not the real thing.
Pretty sure I’ve been coming to this conclusion for a while.
Doll’s gotten under my skin and made me crave more from the first moment I met her. She’s in my dreams and my waking thoughts. In a sea of flesh, a den of sex and sin, her body is the only one I ache for, the only one I want touching mine. I haven’t dared to let her in or hope for more, because I know I can’t live through my life shattering around me a second time.
But what if . . . what if this time it doesn’t fall apart?
I stare into my eyes and try to find a speck of the man I was before. Because the one I see isn’t good enough for her.
I can’t turn back time, and I can’t erase the monster Doll sees when she looks at me. But maybe . . . just maybe I can show her that’s not all I am or all I can be.
A toy can only withstand so much before it breaks.
EMBER
More and more sunlight filters into the room. I keep meaning to get up, get downstairs, and start breakfast. After all, the guys are probably waiting on me, but I can’t. Not yet. I’m fighting the impulse to pull the covers over my head, hide away and act like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Act like last night never happened.
I feel drained.
Energyless, if that’s even a word. I blame it on blood loss and lack of sleep.
