I’m terrified to open my eyes, and I’m still just inside the door. I open my eyes just a slit. My head is exploding, and I look down at the soaking red covering my right hand. I push up and manage to get onto my knees, crawling out the door, screaming, but the only thing that comes out is a croaking sound and a jabbing pain in my throat.
Someone is touching me. I start kicking, pushing myself away when another set of hands is on my back, then under my arms, and before I can stop him, I’m upright.
I’m all flailing arms and kicks and anger that just won’t stop. Why doesn’t it ever stop?
“Hey, you’re okay! Promise! Stop!” It’s Beckett.
Sobbing. I’m liquid again.
The sound of Beckett’s voice hits me like a drenching bucket of cold water. The pain in every part of my body lights up, and I hold up my hands to him. Blood is coursing down my wrist, and I look for the blue-green glow.
I need his eyes. The eyes that made me feel safe. I need to feel safe.
Finally, I focus. I see them. They are narrow. He’s bending down, so his nose is right in front of mine. I feel the warmth of his breath, so clean and fresh, and I throw my arms around his shoulders, holding my hands high, trying not to get the red mess all over his light colored denim shirt.
“Shhhhh, you’re okay. It’s okay.” He’s wiping his fingers gently over my cheeks. His shirt isn’t snapped. It’s freezing outside, and it’s blowing wide open while I’m shivering and can’t stop crying.
My legs are useless, and just as gravity starts to take over, I’m against him, scooped up like a child, and we’re in the middle of the street. I can see his head flying back and forth, looking in every direction at once as if to say, “Stay the fuck away.”
I glance over his shoulder and see blue-blanket in a heap at the bottom of the steps. There is a deep burgundy pool of blood growing in a slow circle under his head. Then, I see movement inside the door as the linebacker groans and sits up, staring straight at me.
“He’s getting up—” My voice is a shaking whisper, and I tighten myself into Beckett.
He turns to granite under my arms. I hear a primal growl come from his chest, and he spins on his heel. I swear his chest and shoulders grow a few inches broader. He steps back toward the open door, and I attach myself to him like a barnacle.
“You better stay down, motherfucker,” he yells. “When we’re gone, you better be gone, because I’m fucking coming back, and I will fucking end you. I will end you.” Beckett takes three, long strides straight back toward the door, holding me like I’m weightless. I feel the fury coming out of him, and I press my face harder into his neck until it feels like my nose is going to break.
I know this is Beckett. It looks like him. It smells like him.
But, it’s someone else. Someone I should fear.
The smiling, joking, gorgeous man that I kissed yesterday is not this man.
This man is removed from law and rules.
I think he may have killed blue blanket with his bare hands, and I don’t know if I should be relieved or afraid.
Beckett
Get her in the bath. Get the filth off of her.
That’s the only thing I can think as I kick open the door to the loft and carry her into the bathroom setting her feet down to stand next to the enormous clawfoot tub. With the industrial-sized water heater in the next room, I’ve got the tub half-full of steaming water in a matter of minutes. I crouch down to smooth her hair from her face and pick out the pieces of garbage and glass.
“Okay? You’re okay. Let’s get you cleaned up, babe.”
The look of terror in her eyes makes me set to kill. I twisted that fucks head half off his neck before I slammed him into the corner of the concrete steps. I don’t know if he’s fucking dead or not.
Motherfuckers picked the wrong fucking day and the wrong fucking girl to mess with.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice comes out in a broken croak as she holds her hands up, the blood darker and drying down her wrists but still weeping fresh and bright from a deep gash in her palm.
“What are you sorry for? Don’t be sorry. Don’t . . .” I have to take in a breath deeper than my lungs can fill because suddenly my eyes are burning and my voice cracks.
There is only so much even a fuck like me can take. The sharp scent of the fire still hangs in the air. I almost forgot she was supposed to come today. So fucking caught up in my own pain and grief, I never did answer her text yesterday.
This girl you’ve waited for. This girl that you know was meant to be yours. This girl that fucking needed you today to tell her not to come. Now look what happened.
Everyone I care about gets fucked.