Page 9 of Make Me Pretty
A door slams, and my shoulders hit my earlobes, heart lurching into my throat. My ears strain toward the noise, but as it echoes out, leaving nothing behind, I force my shoulders to drop and breath to expel from my lungs.
You’re safe here. You’re safe…
The mantra I push through over and over sounds unbelievable, even if I feel it to be true. Years of everything opposite will do that, I guess.
I pick at the frayed, yellowed pages of my book, absentmindedly flicking through them, stopping at different parts to read a sentence or two before tossing it to the side. My head hurts too bad to even try to read, let alone focus on anything.
The discernable sound of water spitting from a faucet fills the silence before it changes into a softer, less resounding spray. I try for a deep breath, but when my lungs contract, I wheeze,clutching my jean-clad thighs against the wave of pain-induced nausea.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter when the room flickers back with slight clarity. The bedside lamp illuminates enough of the space, thankfully, because I don’t think I could stand the stark overhead light Peris turned on when he showed me the room.
I pick up the discarded Polaroid of me and Lucy, giving it only a cursory glance before placing it back inside the weathered copy of my book, which I then shove back inside my backpack along with my bloody clothes that still need washing. They’re probably ruined, but I can’t afford to just throw them away. The thought alone is appalling.
My eyes catch on my small pile of pink lighters. Some are peeling and rusted, others nearly empty, despite being newer. But they all serve a purpose.
Pressing my tongue against the backs of my teeth, I zip the lighters back inside the pocket before shoving my bag into the corner between the wall and the bedframe, out of sight. I gingerly push to my feet. It takes a gargantuan effort to raise my arms enough to get my shirt off, but after what feels like an hour, my skin is beaded with sweat as I drop the shirt to the floor, leaving my torso bare. After undoing my cracked, silver-studded belt, my jeans pool around my ankles, unable to stay on my hips without the cinching support of a leather strap.
Stepping out from the denim, I leave my clothes where they lie as I crawl beneath the covers, tugging them up to my chin. My boxers are filthy and definitely covered in various fluids, but it’s better than being completely naked—completelyvulnerable—in Peris Baxter’s house.
There’s a clear-cut difference between me and Peris—me with my destructive, bratty attitude and small, lithe frame versus his sharp intensity and sinewy body.
Yeah, I wouldn’t stand a chance, and I’m already not at one hundred percent. Not that I think he’d put his hands on me with malicious intent—he clearly isn’t the type, and I’ve pushed him hard—but I’m not taking my chances, either. Especially not after I’ve flipped the script on him.
We’ve created a sort of… conjecture since that first day we met.
But this… this changes everything.
I have all the access to him now—no longer bound by school hours, time between classes or private, personal practices.
He’s going to be aroundallthe time. He won’t be able to walk away. To gain composure. And eventually, the darkness inside will start to slip out for more than just a peek behind the curtain.
Because Peris Baxter is hiding some nasty demons behind the façade he keeps in place. I’ve seen the briefest glimpses in moments where our eyes have connected, golden-green hues swirling with the darkest smoke.
My first glimpse was that night at school, when he watched me. When he wanted what he saw. When he was caught and didn’t turn away, even if he was obviously warring with disgust and fear and blatant arousal.
He trapped me, right then and there. Hook, line, and sinker. I would’ve fallen to my knees before him in that moment just to keep that look in his eyes. But I saw what lies beneath the surface—he knows I did.
And I’m going to do everything in my power to unveil his tenebrosity. I need another taste of the familiarity. ProofI’m not alone in it.
Thankfully, the darkness comes as easy as it’s always wanted to—splitting me in half as it swallows me.
I scrunch my nose,shoving my hand out from beneath the thick blanket to rub it against the tickle of hair. Warmth blows across my face again. More hair flutters. “Ugh,” I groan, curling in on myself against the onslaught of the fan.
“Good—you’re awake.” My eyelids fly open, and my body reacts on years of pure instinct. I’m up and scrambling back into the furthest corner, putting as much distance between me and the voice as I can. My chest heaves, heart slamming against my bruised ribcage, stealing all my breath through potent waves of blinding pain. I curl over, dry heaving as my stomach contracts.
“That’s an overreaction if I’ve ever seen one,” Peris deadpans, perfectly still, ass poised on the edge of the mattress.Inchesaway from where I was just sleeping.
He could’ve done anything… and you didn’t wake up.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
“What thefuck?” I hiss the partial thought aloud. “I locked the goddamn door.”
He glances back at said door, now perfectly ajar. “Yeah, about that. The locks are shit.”
“I can fucking see that,” I snap, throwing an arm out in his direction.
“Practically useless,” he continues.
