Ryan followed him, closing the doors.
“You shouldn’t just leave her. Have you dealt with a self-harmer before?” Ryan asked.
“No. Clearly, I doubt anyone would tell them to chain up a self-harmer. Have you?”
“No, but you’ve got to be careful here. Chaining her up is not going to get the cause of why she does it. Maybe she likes pain? Or is it something else?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve been taking care of her and you’ve not found out why she’s doing it?”
Edward glared at him. “I am doing the best I can here.”
“Chaining her up and looking like shit does not help.”
“You can leave.”
“Nah, I think I need to stick around. You might need some help with this.”
“No, if she wants you to go, then you fucking leave.” Edward opened the door, making sure to keep Ryan out of the way. “Isabel, I have Ryan here. Is it okay for him to be here, or do you want him to go?”
She looked up at him, and he saw her tears. Just seeing how emotional she was hurt him. He had totally fucked up.
“I don’t want anyone else here.”
“Fuck off,” he said, turning to Ryan.
“Edward, you’re doing the best you can. Remember that,” Ryan said.
Edward didn’t wait around for Ryan to go. Entering his room, he made sure to take the key in case Ryan felt like intruding again.
When he heard his front door close, he focused his attention on Isabel.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
He stared at her thigh. Blood was dripping down her leg, and he had fucked up. He should have taken care of her injury rather than chain her up.
Without saying a word, he went toward her and helped her down from the chains, moving her toward the chaise lounge he had in the corner. He didn’t say a word as he stared down at the cut on her thigh.
“Don’t say sorry,” he said. The last thing he needed to hear was another sorry. It was all she ever said, and he was growing tired of them. He’d really thought he was getting through to her. “Do you need to see someone? Talk to someone?”
“No!” She yelled the word, and winced as he pressed down on her cut.
Edward gritted his teeth, staring at the woman who was driving him crazy. He had taken away all of her pressure. Her sister Sophie was in college, which she didn’t have to pay for. All of her debts were completely gone, and he’d moved her into his home. She could have anything she wanted. All she had to do was ask, and he’d give it to her. Anything her pretty little heart desired, he would fight to give to her. The problem he faced was the fact she didn’t want anything he could give her. No, Isabel wanted the feel of the blade against her skin. He couldn’t give her that, and he was starting to wonder what he could really do to actually help her. Sophie wasn’t any help either. Her own sister didn’t have a clue that Isabel cut. It was a completely isolated problem. Isabel had been able to keep it a secret for so long. He didn’t know what to do.
“Isabel,” he said, pausing in taking care of her to look into her eyes. “You need some help.”
“You’re helping.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He stopped arguing. If she was his submissive, he would have spanked her ass. She didn’t belong to him, so he had to play by a different set of rules. Rules he didn’t understand. He knew nothing about self-harmers or what they were capable of. Did they hurt themselves for the pain? For the rush?
“Sophie called today.”
Edward paused, and glanced up at Isabel. Sophie was the younger sister. Isabel had been left to fend for her sister while her parents ran off, and did God knows what. Was that it? Was the responsibility for her sister what drove her to harm?
“What did she say?”
“Thank you for such an amazing apartment. She’s really happy, Edward, and I can’t thank you enough. You don’t have to do anything like that, and yet you’ve done so much.”
He placed his hand on top of her knee. “Stop right there. I do it because I want to, sweetie. I want to help you.” Staring at the brand-new cut on her thigh, he saw he wasn’t doing a good enough job.
What the hell was he supposed to do? He was drawing a blank on this. Her thighs and even her arms were scarred from past wounds. The sight of blood didn’t seem to faze her at all. She wore clothes that covered the marks. No one knew what she did. They all just looked at her like a normal woman. Was she normal?
Blowing out a breath, he continued to clean her wound. He couldn’t not clean it. He needed to make sure it was done right.