Page 18 of Voodoo Doll
“Oh, fuck!” Joshua swore.?
“Luna!” Kayla called out — but it was too late.?
It was all too late.
My hands slippedagainst the steering wheel, made slick by the blood that poured from the cuts on my hands from shards of broken crockery. What kind of idiot walks in on her boyfriend and best friend fucking up against a wall, drops a casserole dish and thenfucking tries to clean up the mess?!??
There had to be something wrong with me. How could he do this to me? What had I done to deserve this???
My sobs echoed in the small cabin of my car as I drove through the pouring rain. I could barely see, even with the wipers on full blast, though my tears and the smearing mascara in my eyes had more to do with that than anything else.?
Swiping at my cheeks, the metallic scent of my blood filled my nostrils. Anything was better than the scent of that perfume. It seemed to chase me somehow, like an unrelenting specter, mocking the memory of my love for Joshua.
How damn stupid was I to not recognize it!? Fucking gardenias. Of course.?
That’s why I couldn’t get the scent out of my nostrils. Because it was fucking Kayla’s perfume. I was smellingher, not the perfume from Joshua’s shirts. The two were one and the same. Through my pain and heartbreak, that tiny kernel of rage began to take deeper root. My fucking best friend since seventh grade, who could have models on her arm at the drop of a hat, and she had to stealMYfucking boyfriend!? How stupid was I, to let that happen?
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” I cried, banging my bleeding hand on the steering wheel, letting the pain fuel my anger. Anything to hold the heartbreak at bay. I could feel it waiting like a monsterin the shadows, waiting to pounce. I knew that if it did, it would break me for good.?
I turned down this road and that, making my way to the street down on the lower end of the French Quarter. I knew the destination by heart now.
It was the only place I could go. The only place I had left. The only place I could feel safe.
Who else did I have??
And who else could I trust?
Only Bash. He’d proven his friendship time and time again, even in the brief span I’d known him. He was my only true friend now. My only anchor in the storm of emotion that threatened to capsize me.?
I pulled in front of the store, barely missing the car in front of me, and definitely hitting the curb as I threw it into park. Stumbling out of the driver’s seat, the heel of my shoe snapped as it stuck into the grate in the pavement below. I fell to the ground, the cars still driving past me like I was beneath their notice. Then again, wasn’t that the truth??
Poor Luna Landry. Idiot extraordinaire. Pay no attention while she cries into the pavement on her hands and knees.?
My hands stung as pieces of dirt and debris embedded themselves into the cuts in my palm. Even the stinging pain could not faze me. Nothing hurt worse than the betrayal of the two people I had loved most. Nothing compared to that. I clung to my hatred and rage like a lifeline, using it to keep me sane. I was lost, otherwise.?
I stumbled, crawling my way to the sidewalk, and carefully pulled myself to my feet. My eyes stung as the mascara smeared into them.
I couldn’t even manage a word as I unsteadily entered le Désir Mystique.?
“Welcome to le Désir Mystique. How may I —Luna?” Bash’s voice called. As soon as the sound of his voice reached my ears, I crumbled. Hearing the concern, the genuine caring in his voice stripped away the protective anger I clung to, leaving only the pain. Covering my face with my hands, my body shook with sobs.?
I could feel his presence in front of me, yet he did not touch me.?
“Who did this to you? Tell me who, and I swear I will make them suffer.” His voice was unlike I’d ever heard from him, hard as iron and dark as midnight, revealing the sinister nature that had seemed to lurk just beneath the surface of his entire being from the day I had first met him. I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that he would make good on that promise.
“He… he cheated,” I sobbed, looking up at him through blurry, tear soaked eyes.?
“He did.” His tone was simple agreement, as if he were relieved I had finally discovered something he had already known. And I supposed he had known, since the very first day I walked into his shop.
He took my hands in his, turning them palm up as he inspected the wounds that were left there. His thumbs rubbed the blood away, and then, without warning, he pressed his nails into the cuts, pressing until more blood pooled into the palms of my hands.?
“Bash — ahh!” I half-screamed, the shock of pain jolting me. I tried to pull my hands away, but he held firm, his eyes like shadowed pits as he stared down at me.
“Take the pain,ma chère. Take it and let it replace the pain in your heart.”?
“Ow! You’re hurting me, Bash. Stop it!” Still, his hands held mine in an iron grip, refusing to let go.
“I said, take the pain. Accept it. Let it burn away everything else. The weak feel heartbreak. The pitiful feel betrayal andrejection. But the strong embrace pain, and become stronger still. The powerful find vengeance for the wrongs done to them.” His voice was as iron-hard as his hands, still digging into my palms, setting my cuts ablaze with pain. Somehow, it seemed to clear my head slightly; to give me something to focus on.
