Donte killed another girl, and yet I was the one who felt the effects of it.
Eve was always going to find out what I do for a living, that wasn’t the source of my regret, it was telling her we kill without any apologies.
Standing up, I kicked off my boots, yanking off the shiny, blue bomber jacket and the destroyed shirt under it before stepping out of my plaid pants. My normal attire somehow always involved plaid and enough material to cover my arms.
Padding to the bathroom, I caught a reflection of a man worn down… by almost everything surrounding me. My pale skin looked cold, my eyes looked witchy, and my scars screamed ugly. I didn’t care what they screamed as long as they matched my insides.
I had scars sneaking out from under my arms, thick scars healed from a dull blade running through my skin like butter.
They were well hidden and physically marked each trauma in my life for me to see when I needed to be reminded why I’m here. Alive.
Normally, I would climb into bed to perform how I repent. Now shit was more difficult. Eve was a permanent fixture in my life, holding me accountable in being her protector.
Soon-to-be husband.
Best friend.
All the things I couldn’t be while being the evil that I have to be.
Opening my dresser drawer, I cracked another nip before carefully unwrapping the blade that shined in a way that made my mouth salivate for the pain. Stepping out of my boxer briefs, I caught a glimpse at myself again, the part of me Eve was blinded by, disgusted by my own reflection.
Nothing about me was desirable.
Nothing about me was whole.
I was a bundle of raw nerves that had been sandpapered down to whatever was left.
Tilting my head back, I poured the contents into my mouth before stepping into the cold shower and twisting it to boiling. I let it wash over me and my sins until I stilled, getting used to the burn that kissed my skin in a different way than she did.
I wanted all of Eve, but she deserves someone better than me. I just couldn’t accept that enough to let her be someone else’s. So, I wrote a large check and doomed her own fate to be the woman I love yet won’t allow myself to sink into.
She thrived on experiences, getting her way, collecting firsts.
This was death for someone like Eve.
Letting the water pound down on top of my bowed head, I realized I wasn’t only mourning the dead girl from last night, but Eve too.
Letting my forehead grind into the shower wall, my forearms pressed into the warm surface above my head. I felt my breathing get jagged, knowing what came next. Lifting my head, I dragged the blade across the skin right above my elbow. I had repeated lines from my armpits down to my elbows. I was chalk full of trauma worth marking.
The red line bloomed along my arm, and I clamped my eyes closed, holding my breath against the dull sting that quieted the pain inside my chest long enough for me to exhale. The dizziness followed like it always did, and I stumbled to sit down while my arm bled out enough to leave another thick scar behind.
Looking up through the slits in my eyes, I saw Eve standing there with tears filling her big blue ones, matching the look of horror painted all over her face. “What are you doing, Bowey?”
Swallowing down the exhale, I felt the wall I normally had up crumble when it should have gone up higher just at the sight of her. My defenses were down and I was exhaling. No part of me was guarded right now.
Kneeling in the shower with me, her lingerie got wet, making it easier to see her body under the strategically placed flowers and butterflies. Her hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at her with tears in my eyes to match hers. “I didn’t survive Denmark for you to kill yourself when our happiness is supposed to start.”
Searching for the words, I fumbled before the truth came out. “I’m not cutting to kill. It’s to get by another fucking day and to dull the ache that has my soul in a chokehold.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek as she knelt before me, soaking wet on the shower floor, ready to fight for my soul’s redemption. Her hand holding my face seemed to be temporarily holding my innocence hostage—one that was ripped away when we were way too young.
“You don’t think I’ve gotten so sad I’ve wanted to hurt myself? When you hurt, I hurt, Bowey.” Her words were whispered through her trembling lips against the sound of the shower.
I didn’t even care that I was naked, but I cared that I was weak.
Lifting my arm, she could see the white skin where older marks had healed, crawling up the inside of my arm. Rubbing my thumb against her cheek, I tried to catch her tears. “Then I’m sorry for the lifetime of hurt you’re signing up for.”
Standing to my feet, I covered myself with my hands, making sure not even the veins that dragged down my hips were on display. I wanted her to see the ugly and only the ugly because no one else seemed to take it at face value. It’s hard when my ugly is quieter than everyone else's.
My demons don’t give a damn who takes me as a warning sign.
Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around my waist, still soaking in the sting of the cut. “Show’s over. I have to go to work.”
Her face went from being sad to angry
