Page 115 of Drown Like Heaven
“What iswrongwith you?” I whispered, petrified. He was holding his breath, I noticed now. I shrank back in my seat, folding my legs to my chest, but he was still too close. There was something wrong in his head—Iknewthat. I knew that the first day I met him and he held his hand over my mouth and nose; I’d known something was wrong inside my head that day, too.
But there was something else.
With Mason, there was always another hidden facet to him. And I’d never been able to figure out what that was. Istillcouldn’t figure it out.
“What do you think it is?” he asked, not displaying an ounce of softness or concern for me in his eyes, putting more pressure on my hand still.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you, Mason.”
My fingers were starting to go numb.
You’re fuckinghurtingme.
“You can figure it out. You’re smart.”
No, I’m not. Not when it comes to you. I have no idea who the hell you are.
“Let go of me,” I said through my teeth.
“Give me an answer. Who are your professors this semester?”
His palm was unyielding, pressing into my knuckles too hard, my breaths tripping as my heart beat up in my throat.
“Fuck! Wilder, Larson, Clay, Killshaw!” The words burst out of my mouth, even though I didn’t really want to say them. I just couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep holding my own against him. I couldn’t handle him like this. I wasn’t strong enough.
Mason didn’t move off me right away, my tears finally tipping over my lashes.
And then he let go.
I cradled my hand to my chest, trying to swallow all my screams as I shoved the door open and fell out of the car. I landed on my knees on the pavement, the gravel sharp even through my jeans. Snatching my bag off the floorboard, I slammed the door, stalking away from the parking lot, down the slope.
“Dakota!” Mason was right behind me.
I stopped instantly, spinning around to glare at him, fire burning through me, fingers throbbing, hot tears on my cheeks. “Don’t take another fucking step towards me or I’ll scream my head off.”
“Please don’t leave.”
“Fuck you.”
Then I turned and walked away from him, trying to put as much ground between us as possible, wiping the tears from my face. Like on the beach, he didn’t follow me.
But this time, I didn’t want him to.
?????
My pillowcase was soaked through with tears, my phone full of texts from Mason. It was clear he was panicking over the way I’dleft him. With my luck, he’d just show up here in the middle of the night again, force his way inside.
I sobbed into my pillow. My hand still hurt and Ihatedthinking about him doing that do me, hated thinking about the look in his eyes when he was leaning over me. Why would he do that?
It was like some switch had flipped in him, and he became someone else.
Or not.
Maybe he was like this all the fucking time. I didn’t know him.
He knew so much about me, and I still didn’t know anything about him. My chest ached with want. Iwantedto know him. I wanted to be with him for real—or at least I thought I did. Now, I wasn’t sure what I wanted.
At least in the past when he hurt me, when he forced me to answer his questions, when he fucked up my mind, I felt like he was doing it because hewantedme. Even if his methods were twisted and wrong, he was pushing because he wanted to knowme. Because he needed to learn all my secrets, to own everything about me, to hold me in his hands and make me belong to him.
