Page 119 of Unorthodox
“But then you went and did exactly what I asked younotto do. Believe it or not, Addison, I was trying to look out for you tonight. Maybe having another fucking gun to your head helped you figured that out, but you could’ve justfucking trusted me.”
I frown, biting my lip, feel myself tense, but I don’t drop my hands as I back up another step.
“I was trying to protect you, but you are a girl who isimpossibleto care for. No wonder your father hasn’t come for you. Your brother. No one has come for you, because you are impossible to—”
“Stop.” I say it softly at first as he tears down my mantra. But as he keeps trying to talk, I say it louder. “Stop, Max.” And when he steps closer, and I’m against the wall beside my bed, I scream it. “Stop!” I swallow the lump in my throat and watch as he does stop, quirking a brow at my scream, as if he’s waiting for the rest of my tantrum. “Stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My words come out in a rush. “You have no idea. You think—”
“I think you’re a spoiled bitch, Addison, and I think you need to learn your fucking—”
“You think anyone cares for you, huh?” I drop my hands, ball them into fists. “You have people that love you, Max?” I gesture behind him. “Where’s Dante, huh?Where’s. Dante?You buried the only person who probably ever gave a fuck about—”
His hands come to my throat as he knocks my head against the wall.
I already know this is going to hurt. I already know I’m going to regret everything I did. As he threads his fingers through my hair, pulls my head up only to slam it back again, I know in the morning, if I wake up, I’ll hate myself for doing this.
But now? Now, I don’t fucking care.
Stars dance in front of my eyes, but I keep talking. “No one loves you. No one loves you, and no one ever will.” My words are a jagged whisper, but I know he hears me.
He hears me even as he grabs my arm, throws me to the floor.
Even as I catch myself on my palms and sit up, turn to face him, he hears me. “I know pain,” I tell him as he walks toward me, a manic smile on his face, “I know pain and I know bad people. But I still feel things, Max. You could ask Dante about that. You could ask Mamie. You could ask all the people that claim to serve you, but wouldn’t hesitate to fuck you over for someone who still sees the good in—”
He lifts his foot, and for a split second, I think he’s going to kick me. I curl into a ball, wrapping my arms around my shins.
But he turns away from me, and his foot goes through the empty cabinet of my nightstand. The wood splinters, and he kicks it again, where it collides with the wall.
He doesn’t stop.
I watch him destroy it, watch the nightstand turn on its side, quickly dilapidating into nothing but broken wood, the sound so loud I can’t hear myself breathing. Can’t feel my heart nearly beating out of my chest.
When he’s done, when he pauses, turning to look at me, I think it’s over. I think he’ll walk out. Blame me for the mess, maybe make me pick it up. But I think this fight is through.
I think wrong.
He closes the space between us, yanks me to my feet.
“What did you say to me?” he asks quietly, even as his chest heaves, his grip on my arm bruising as he holds me close to him. “What is it you fucking said to me? You stillfeelthings? Is that what you said?”
My throat feels tight. My knees tremble as he shakes me.
“Answer me, Addison.” He’s still so quiet, his voice so low.
I wish he would scream. I wish he would put a hole in the wall. I wish he would let go of me. “Yes,” I tell him. “I-I do.”
He smiles at those words, and a shiver takes over my entire body. I’m shaking in his grip.
He leans down close, his mouth by my ear and he says, “Let’s change that.”
Then he yanks up my dress, shoves me against the bed, one hand fisted in my hair.
“Max, don’t—”
“Don’t talk, Addison. Don’t fucking talk.” He rips down my underwear to my ankles, and with one hand in my hair, I hear him undoing his belt, then the zipper.
I try to stand up, try to push away from the mattress.
I want my body as my own.
