Page 28 of Poisoning Ivy
No voices come, and the anxiety in my chest eases a fraction as he grumbles about fucking children and shakes his head. He slams the door shut, drawing the lock.
The back of my neck feels like it's covered in spiders, their spindly legs tapdancing against my spine. I slip my door closed before my father can see me, and then breathe easier when I hear the sound of his footsteps creaking on the stairs.
My sense of ease doesn't last long because a rock hits my window, making me jump. I rush toward it, anger overtaking the fear as I throw the window open.
"Ohshit!" The whisper is loud and frantic, and I just have time to duck out of the way before a stone goes sailing past my head, landing on the floor by my bed with a thunk that makes me cringe.
"What do you want from me?"
I want to yell it, to scream at them, to show them how much I don't fucking want to deal with them. But I don't dare speak in anything above a whisper, and I stifle my scream as the figure appears at my window, bracing their hands on the sill to prepare to climb through. I throw my arms out to try and block the path, and the laugh that it gets from my tormentor tells me exactly who it is even before the light shines on his face.
Monty brushes past me with ease, landing on his feet like a cat, and turns to face me with a smirk.
It slips away, though, and his eyes dip to the trail of blood that I never bothered cleaning off of my arm. I let the cuts dry, crusty and bloody, messy like me, and usually I clean it up after. Exceptthis time I haven't had the energy to clean the mess, and now he knows.
I snatch my satin robe off the back of the chair and throw it on over my nightgown, hiding the network of scars he'll see if he looks close enough... and my hardened nipples.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss, glancing out at the darkness outside to see if the others are moving in.
"What happened there?" Monty nods at my arm, his eyes not leaving my face.
I can feel his judgment; I can feel that he has no clue that I do to myself the very same thing they did to me yesterday.
"Dropped a glass bowl." I lie easily, and his eyes narrow, telling me he doesn't buy it even for a second. "Again, what are you doing here?"
"I came to check on you," he says, shrugging out of his jacket so that I can see his face better as he pulls his hoodie off. It's too warm for that, but I imagine he was trying to blend with the shadows of the night. And I can't exactly blame him. I’m afraid of my own father, and he’s been historically vocal about his disgust for the locals. They avoid us like we aren’t here, and my parents like it that way.
"That's so kind of you." I sneer, rolling my eyes. "I'm great. You can go now."
"Come on, Poison. Don't be like that." He steps closer to me with a confidence I've never seen from Monty before. He's usually content to stand back, to linger, afraid to take what he wants unless Killian and Theo are at his side, egging him on. I guess they’re rubbing off on him. The way he joined in on the train tracks confirms as much.
"Don't fucking call me that." I snap, angry that he caught me with the evidence on my arm, that he had the audacity to show up here to check on me, that he held me down and let his friend carve his fuckingnameinto my skin.
"Ivy," his voice is softer as he blows out a sigh. "Are you okay?"
I don't think I've ever been okay, but he doesn't need to know that. This boy—man—who has taken up so many of the memories of my life despite the fact that I see him once or twice every summer, doesn't need to know that I am a goddamn mess. He can probably see it written in the tear tracks on my face, if he really cares to deconstruct it.
"Would you care if I said no?" I laugh, shaking my head. "Seriously, Monty? Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"You were crying yesterday when..."
I cross my arms, waiting to hear him say it out loud.
"Yeah..." I arch an eyebrow, trying not to smirk at the obvious discomfort on his face.
"It's just... what we did..."
"You cut me." I shrug. "Big fucking deal. I do it to myself all the time."
His face goes blank at the admission, and then his eyes drop to my arm, hidden now behind the sleeve of my satin robe.
"We both know you didn't buy the story about the bowl. Now you know. I like the pain, Monty. Who fucking cares if I cried?"
He swallows visibly, and I can tell thatheclearly cares. I just don't fucking know why. It doesn't make any sense that this guy who has always been so hot and cold with me is standing before me now, acting like he's sorry for what he did.
"You were upset."
I shrug again. "Lots of things upset me. So what? You held me down while Killian ripped my panties off and cut me? You think it ruined my fucking life? Newsflash, Monty?" I laugh. "It's already ruined."
