Page 111 of Pray for Scars
She doesn’t speak.
I stand up, walk around the coffee table, and sit down beside her. Our thighs are touching. Hers bare, mine in black joggers.
“Get away from me.” The words come out hushed.
I angle my body toward hers, but don’t say anything.
She pounds her fist against her leg and twists to face me. Rage is etched onto her beautiful face. “I said,get away from me!”she screams the words, and I wonder if the boys can hear her downstairs. But I still hear the steady thump of the bass of whatever they’re listening to, and no one calls up.
Besides, they knew this shit would happen.
“No.”
She’s quiet a moment, biting her lip, glancing down at the couch between us. And then she lunges for me.
I don’t bother ducking or moving out of her way. I let her hands shove me off the couch, onto the rug in the living room. My head connects with it, and it’s not really enough to cushion the hard crack of my head against the floor, but I’ll live.
She’s straddling me, her fists flying into my chest, punctuating every blow with a loud breath, sometimes a scream.
“I fucking hate you,” she yells, opening her fists which must be aching now and slapping me in the chest instead.
I try to reach for her wrists but she’s faster, and she keeps hitting me, over and over and over again. She’s breathing hard, and after a minute, her blows come slower, and they hurt less, too.
I finally grab her wrists in my hands. I pin them down by her side and she glares down at me, her eyes glistening.
“I hate you,” she says again, quieter this time. “I hate you. You would have let him die.”
My heart twists with those words, but not for Jeremiah. For her. For what he poisoned her to believe.
I’m sure as fuck not an antidote.
But some poisons kill you slower than others.
“Baby,” I say, but she cuts me off with a look.
“I’m not your fucking baby,” she growls at me.
I let her think that might be true, for a solid three seconds. Then I flip her over, her on her back, me on top of her, her arms pinned to the floor.
“You are.” I lean down close, eyes staring into hers. “You’remine.” I nudge her head to the side with my face, bite down on her neck. She stills beneath me, although I can still hear her rapid breathing. “You’re mine,” I say again against her throat, “and you’re not fucking going anywhere.” I pull her skin into my mouth, knowing it’ll bruise. “Do you understand? We’ll work this out, and you can hate me, and you can hurt me, but don’t leave me.” I kiss her, soothing the bite. My throat tightens. “Please, Sid,don’t leave me.”
She doesn’t say anything. I open my mouth, kissing her neck, feeling some of the fight leave her, her body no longer completely rigid underneath me.
“You killed him,” she whispers. “Killed…them.”
I take a breath, press my forehead to her chest, close my eyes.
“My father?” I scoff. “Your pimp?The people that hurt you?”She tenses and I regret those words. “Yeah, I killed them. And I’d do it over and over and over again. For you, I’d do anything. That, and worse.”
She’s quiet, breathing softly beneath me. “I know,” she finally says.
Silence stretches between us, silence except for her inhales and exhales, her heart beating in her chest beneath my brow, my eyes still closed.
“Sid,” I whisper against her chest. “I’m sorry.”
She tenses. “Don’t lie to me.”
I press my hips against her stomach. “I would never.”
