Page 175 of Ruthless Chaos
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, looking down my body in the bath.
The water is tinged pink from my blood. Beneath the surface dozens of angry, red marks decorate my thighs. Tendrils of blood still swirl from them, dissipating into the water.
I take the blade to my skin again, clenching my teeth and pressing a little deeper for good measure. There doesn’t seem to be enough blood that can purge me from this hollow, empty feeling.
From the icy grip of betrayal that has me reliving everything on a loop in my mind.
Even this routine of mine, the one thing that kept me sane during my lowest points, he’s managed to taint. Even now, I can still hear his voice in my head, telling me how much he didn’t like that I had to resort to this. How much it worried him, how much ithurthim, how much he wanted me to stop.
I can still feel the ghost of lips on my scars, pressing soft kisses to them.
My throat grows thick, and a choking sob leaves me.
Was that all part of his game too? I shake my head viciously until the world is spinning, trying to get the sound of his voice out of my head. Sinking my teeth into my lips, I bite until my mouth tastes of copper.
Above everything else, I feel dumb.
What else could I have expected from someone like him? Alexander violated me the very first night he met me, and every single time we saw each other after that. He invaded my life and filled all the spaces with his thoughts, his wants, his needs.
Just because he’s a little less horrible than the people here doesn’t make himgood. It only makes me a fool for believing he could be different. I was clearly in over my head.
I was the last person to realize.
I take a deep shaky breath, dropping the bloody blade on the floor and pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. The odds were stacked against me from the beginning. Alexander is four years older than me, but in real world experience the age gap is even wider. The playing field was always uneven.
I had no chance against him, and he knew that.
A sudden wave of embarrassment has me pulling my legs up to my chest, just so the movement can aggravate the wounds on my thighs. I let him into my world, the tiny, shattered pieces of it that I guarded with my life.
I told him my deepest secrets.
He made me feel special, he made me think he was doing the same.
But I guess it all makes sense. I was too wrapped in how he made me feel to see the warning signs—like the fact he would never commit to defining our relationship outside of calling me ‘his.’
At the time, it felt like a good thing.
I figured it was how he showed endearment. Not everyone likes the idea of titles, and I was willing to work with him. Now I realize that was just another way he took advantage of me. I was too naive, too trusting.
I won’t make that mistake again.
I rest my head on the edge of the tub, my fingers traveling to the necklace hanging around my neck. Even this must have been his way of keeping me submissive to him. I thought it was his way of protecting me, but I see it for what it is.
It’s a collar, like the kind you’d put on a dog.
I no longer want to be part of this farce with him. I can’t take it off, but I pull it as hard as I can. My neck is raw by the time I’m finished.
More tears roll down my cheeks.
I’m too dazed to keep track of the time passing, or to even care that my phone has been ringing in the bedroom almost non-stop. The only thing that snaps me out of it is when I hear the door to the hotel room open.
That can only be one person.
“Alize?” His voice is muffled by the bathroom door. He stomps around the room. “Alize, are you in here?” There’s some annoyance in his voice.
He’s probably been looking for me.
I can tell what mood he’s in without even seeing his face. It’s a stab in the gut. I hate that I know him so well. I push the thoughts away. The room falls silent.
