Page 80 of Hard Rock Fling
"All that pain and anger rushed to the surface." Ian face twisted, as if the memory caused him physical pain. "Like it had just been waiting for me to give in, waiting for that trigger to go off. It only happened the once, but once was enough.
"Was it bad?"
He huffed out a dark laugh. "Yeah. I went a little nuts. I screwed up my wrists and arms. I cut too deep. Hadn't even realized at the time what I was doing. It was like I was in a trance. I snapped out of it to find myself on the bathroom floor covered in blood. It was… not good." He leaned his head back against the sofa and exhaled noisily. "I begged Damon to lie for me. We pretended it was an accident."
"How in the world could something like that be an accident?"
"Accidentally cut myself with a kitchen knife."
"You don't know how to use the kitchen."
He gave me an almost cheeky grin. "That's why it was plausible."
I let out a little laugh as the tension eased somewhat.
"The band decided to go on hiatus while I healed," Ian continued. "They didn't know I was secretly seeing a therapist. We didn't want anyone to worry. If the media got pictures of my arms, they'd think…"
"They'd think you cut yourself," I interjected, trying to dampen the hints of anger and worry in my voice. "Which is exactly what you do."
"You've seen the way paparazzi act when some starlet goes on a bender and ends up in rehab. Can you imagine the shitshow if word got out about me? Best case scenario, they follow my every move like vultures. Worst case scenario, fangirls start cutting themselves too out of some sort of sick sense of loyalty and all of a sudden Darkest Days is the reason some girl killed herself."
I could understand Ian's worry. "That doesn't mean you can't tell your friends. There's no reason why you can't tell your brother, at least."
"No." Ian's words were resolute. "Damon can't know."
"He'll want to help you."
"He already thinks he's helping."
"You said you don't talk about it."
"We don't. But… he's trying so hard. If he knew all thatDamianshit makes it—" Ian cut himself off abruptly.
"What? Makes it what?"
"He just wants me to know I'm not alone." Ian's voice went soft. "That he's there to support me. But I get lost in it. Like I'm fading away. Like Ian doesn't exist anymore. The cutting… it reminds me of who I am. The pain belongs tome, no one else."
I finally understood. I understood why Ian had gotten upset all those times. Damon thought by focusing on all thatTwinsstuff, he was helping. But he wasn't. He was making it worse.
"So that's my sob story," Ian said with a rueful laugh. "Bet you didn't think you'd be getting involved with such a screw up when you proposed that fling."
"You're not a screw up," I said firmly. "Everyone has their demons to deal with, even me. Yours just happen to manifest more physically."
He gave me a curious look.
"And what about your demons?"
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Isaton the sofa next to Ian, motionless, not liking where this conversation was heading.
He continued speaking. "I know your mom passed away. I know your dad ignored you. I'm here for you, if there's anyone else you want to talk to me about."
There wasn't. I didn't want Ian to know how screwed up I still was emotionally. He was already dealing with so much. I didn't need to unload on him.
"I don't want to add to your worries," I finally said.
"Tell me," he insisted.
