Was she a freak for that as well?
“There’s nothing wrong.” I’m just really aroused and want you. “I’m going to finish dealing with dinner.”
She got to her feet, and made her way toward the staircase.
“I get worried because I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Edward said, making her stop and turn. Her hand was on the banister, and she focused on him, not on his equipment that she had spent a good thirty minutes admiring. Some of the whips he had would cause many tears into flesh if hit hard enough.
“You don’t need to.”
“I don’t. You make the wrong cut and you’re dead within seconds, Isabel. It’s a dangerous thing that you’re doing. Not to mention that if you pass out, or if you don’t stop the bleeding, I could walk in here one day to find you dead. I don’t want that.”
“I’m not going to let that happen.”
“How do you intend to stop it?”
“I don’t need to cut every day or every month.”
“There are enough marks on your flesh for me to know that you do it a lot.”
She stared at the floor. They had been around each other for a year, an entire year of him knowing what she did, and she had moved in with him not so long ago. It was strange how she tried to hide it from everyone else but him. Sophie had no idea what she did. Their parents didn’t know. To everyone outside of his home, she was a normal, stable girl, who was just trying to take care of her baby sister. It’s all they needed to know.
“I’ve been doing it since I was twelve,” she said. She went to tell him more but stopped.
“I can wait for more. I don’t want you to rush me with the whole story.”
“I don’t try to kill myself. I don’t want to die.”
He blew out a breath. “If we were in the UK, I would have your ass down A & E so fucking fast you wouldn’t even know what hit you.”
“We’re not in England, Edward.”
“I know. We’re in Cape Falls, and right now I don’t think going to a specialist is right for you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I won’t go anywhere.” She didn’t want to talk to anyone, or tell them what she thought when she did it. She just wanted to live her life.
“Go ahead. Go make dinner and I will clean up this mess.”
Her mess. She didn’t say anything else as she made her way toward the kitchen. When she entered, she looked around to see all the big knives were still in place. He hadn’t tried to hide them. She wasn’t stupid enough to use a knife.
She’d meant what she said to him in his little dungeon. The last thing she wanted to do was to die. She liked living, especially now. Sophie was taken care of, and Isabel got to take care of Edward. Cooking for him, doing his laundry, and taking care of his beautiful home.
Living in a trailer was completely different from living in a beautiful home.
She loved it here more than she loved anything else.
Running her fingers across the granite counter, she made her way toward the fridge. Opening it up, she saw the two juicy steaks waiting for them.
Isabel intended to do everything she could to take care of Edward. He didn’t belong to her, and he never would. She was used to men not wanting her. Still, she could make sure that he was her friend.
She really did like him, and they talked a lot. There were times she was sure he forgot about what she did. It had been a couple of months since she last cut. She never saw it as hurting herself.
It wasn’t pain she sought.
No.
It was feeling.
Chapter Two
Edward didn’t bring it up again, and he kept to his promise. The following day he took her to Control. It was the only BDSM club in town, and it was through his friend, William, that Edward had come to Cape Falls.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” William asked.
They both stared across the main dance-floor toward the main bar where Peter Miller was talking with her.
“I don’t know what is a good idea. This way I know she’s not going to hurt herself.” He couldn’t stand to walk into another room and witness her taking the blade to her body once again.
“I don’t know much about self-harm, but from what I can gather, it can have a variety of reasons behind it. Abuse, cry for attention, a coping mechanism.”
“I don’t know what it is, I only know I want her to stop it.” He felt helpless, and it was an emotion he wasn’t used to.
“You do realize she’s not your problem. She’s not your submissive, or your woman.”
“That’s fucked up right there. I’m not going to turn my back on her.” He stared at Isabel. Her blonde locks were pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a pair of jeans and a long sleeved white shirt. To anyone looking at her, she was like the girl next door. Sweet, charming, and beautiful. He knew that beneath those clothes she had a bandage on one thigh, and the inside of her arms had multiple scars. Some had faded, and others were still new.