Page 69 of Satan's Spawn
Even with the ratty hair and big ugly bathrobe.
From day one I’ve seen what everyone else sees, the problem lies with the things I see in her they don’t.
That she doesn’t.
That no one ever will.
At this moment, though, I’m finding nobody else but Rebecca looking back at me, and the vibrant blues and greens of her eyes get me all sorts of tongue-tied.
All sorts of fucked in the head because I’m not supposed to find her attractive.
I’m only supposed to hate her. Get rid of her.
“Hello? Earth to psycho.” Rebecca calls out, and for a few moments more I examine her.
Until she lets out an exacerbated breath and bends over to pick up her belongings, breaking me out of my daze.
“Why didn’t you sell me out?” I ask as she gathers the towel off the floor.
“I’m asking myself the same question.”
“So answer us both.”
Rebecca straightens, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “You almost got me in trouble again.”
She’s one to talk.
“Why didn’t you sell me out?” I repeat, my eyes dipping to where wet hair is sticking to her neck, covering the mark I left there.
“Why did you storm out of the bathroom?” Rebecca shoots back.
“I’m asking the questions.”
She brushes past me, but doesn’t get far before I’m snatching her arm to pull her to my chest. She looks down at where my hand is, then angry turquoise irises rise to meet mine.
There’s heat in her gaze, and I know it’s not only from anger, because I’m feeling it too.
I felt the same when she asked if I was going to do bad things to her. There was something about the innocence of that question, I found myself not only wanting to hurt Rebecca, but wanting to protect her, too.
Keep her for myself, even if just to destroy her.
I swallowed that shit down real fast, but it’s creeping up on me like acid reflux.
“Stop fucking touching me.” Rebecca flares her nostrils, which is when I notice the small scar on the side of her nose. Like it was sliced somehow.
“What happened to your nose?”
Her face contorts. “You’re seriously asking me about my scar right now? While I’m practically naked?”
My dick twitches with the reminder, but I ignore it, nodding once.
She tugs her arm. “I scraped it against some coral. Can you get off?”
“When?”
“I don’t know, when I was like seven.” Another tug.
“How?”
