Page 55 of Blood and Thorns
It was easier to make a joke of it rather than acknowledge the truth, that in reality I struggled to trust anyone. It was easier, especially when Dadliked to move us around a lot. Starting over again and again thanks to the endless need to outrun his own messes taught me that connections didn’t last. So I stopped trying to make them.
Books made it easier, fictional worlds breaking through the loneliness. The only person who’d been a constant was my dad. He wasn’t dependable or steady, but at least he was there. And when you grew up without roots, his dysfunctional chaos became home.
So yeah, he was all I had. Maybe that was why I kept choosing him, even when I shouldn’t have. Even when it hurt.
“You can trauma dump on me,” Chip said, his smile gentle. “You can trust me, I promise. And if it helps… I can check in on him for you, if you want.”
My voice came quieter than I intended. “You’d do that?”
Chip nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Would you show me how to get out of here?”
Chip froze, his face that of a statue. “I don’t think Mr Devereaux would like that.”
“What happens if there’s an emergency? Like a fire?” Ineeded a plan, a way to get out if it got to be too much. I just had to wait long enough for Dad to disappear before I risked anything.
“There are stairs, but the door’s locked. You’ll need a keycard, like mine, or unless there’s an emergency, and the lift is compromised, then the door will automatically unlock.”
“There are stairs?” That knowledge settled like a weight. “Where’s the door?”
He took a moment to respond, lips curling with amusement. “Beside the kitchen.”
Holy shit.There was an exit, and Sebastian didn’t know I knew. “Thank you, I really don’t want to get you into trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Chip’s smile widened. “What are friends for?”
Chapter 26
Sebastian
I was trying to purge my excess energy, but the demons that lurked inside wanted to come out, and even the harsh strokes of the brush weren’t enough to keep them at bay.
Il ne m’a pas laissé le choix.
He left me no choice.
The canvas clattered to the floor, followed by the easel. I barely pulled myself back from breaking the wood into pieces, wanting the splinters to imbed themselves into my hands so I’d feel them for days.
It was so tempting, but instead I reached for my cigarette.
Placing it between my lips I took a deep drag, the smoke burning my lungs as I held it in, savouring the sensation before releasing it in a cloud in front of me. My chest felt heavy, my muscles straining beneath my skin. Sleep was alluding me as usual, and I knew nothing but the fucking pills was likely going to break me out of this episode.
The same medication that was known to knock me out cold, leaving me vulnerable against my nightmares. But at least then I could fucking sleep.
A squeak of the floorboards echoed behind me, and lookingover my shoulder I met Arabella’s eyes. I knew she’d be there, just like she was the past few nights.
Stalking over to her, I didn’t give her time to run from me while I was this agitated. If she ran, I’d be forced to chase her, and when she was caught, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from finally breaking her.
Taking another drag of my cigarette, I blew the smoke in her face. “So fucking desperate for my attention.”
Her pupils expanded at my words, but she stood there frozen, without that light of defiance I’d grown fond of. I was still waiting to grow bored, just like I was with almost everything else. The only people who didn’t bore me were Langdon and Caden, and only because they enjoyed the same depraved games that I did. Normal people were far less stimulating.
Everything and everyone else seemed shackled to society’s expectations, unwilling to break free and experience a little bit of destruction in their carefully constructed world. But no, she still stole my thoughts, like a poison tainting my bloodstream.
“So desperate to poke at the big, bad Beast,” I whispered, watching colour darken her cheeks at my harsh tone.
It was as if she didn’t know what to do, and honestly, the feeling was fucking mutual.
