I nodded, just to give my body something to do. Anything but what I wanted to do. Cry.
“Well…I don’t want him to see me,” I said in a broken voice. “Not like this. Not now.”
“Too late.”
Every head turned towards the door where Blaine stood smiling, looking even more perfect than I had remembered. He held an elaborate flower arrangement that he walked over to place on a nearby table. That’s when I realized there were quite a few bouquets, teddy bears and Get Well cards cluttering the room. I couldn’t focus on them though. The movement caused his comforting scent of mint and spice, and just Blaine, to sweep over me. Emotion knotted in my throat.
He came to stand at my side and looked down at me, a smile still illuminating his beautiful face. “Hey baby,” he said just above a whisper.
Words abandoned me, leaving me silent and dumbfounded. Part of me wanted to fall into his arms and thank him for saving my life. For stopping my sick fucking father from stealing the tiny piece of me that I still controlled. For loving me just as fiercely as I loved him.
But that part of me was stupid. Weak. Naïve.
If I thought that we couldn’t continue before, I knew it without a shadow of a doubt now. My father had killed any hope for a future with Blaine. He had killed me. Just like he did my mother.
I couldn’t hold Blaine captive in the fucked-up-ness that was my life. He was a good guy; he’d stay because he’d feel obligated to. Because that’s what good guys did—they stayed and fought for you no matter what.
Blaine had done enough fighting for me. I wouldn’t let him waste his life on someone who had no more fight left in her.
“Blaine…” His name stung my tongue. The day we met, it had felt as smooth as silk in my mouth. Now it hurt. It hurt because I knew I didn’t have a right to say it anymore.
“I think you should go,” I whispered.
“What?” He took a tiny step back as if I had slapped him. “Why?”
I swallowed the words I wanted to say. I locked them all up and stored them in the dark, empty corners of my mind, hoping to rebuild the tiny compartments. My father had destroyed them when he propelled me back into my childhood. Never again. I wouldn’t let anyone get that close again.
“Nothing’s changed, Blaine. How I feel…that hasn’t changed. Thank you for being there for me but that doesn’t mean things between us are different.”
I met his stunned, hurt expression with nothing but cold dispassion. My mask was easier to slip on now. My father had ensured that I was never able to take it off again. It was permanently etched into my torn, battered skin.
Quietly, Dom and Angel slipped out of the room to give us privacy. It wasn’t necessary though. I wouldn’t continue the charade any longer. I’d make sure that Blaine stayed away for good now.
I turned away from the pain etched in his face. I couldn’t look at him. I had enough of my own to deal with. “Look…let’s just consider this my resignation. I know it’s short notice, but I think under the circumstances, this is the best thing. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience? What? Kami…baby…talk to me.”
A warm single finger grazed my chin, causing me to flinch. I glared back at Blaine. Why couldn’t he just stay away? Why did he make me have to hurt him?
“See what you make me do, Kamilla? I have to. I have to hurt you because I love you.”
A gasp caught in my throat as my worst fear came to fruition. My mother was right. She was right all along. And that only solidified my decision.
I covered my mangled face with my only free hand and turned my head away. “Get out.”
“What?” I could hear the confusion that weighted that tiny, insignificant word.
“I said get out!” I shouted louder than was necessary. But I needed to make him see how wrong this was. How wrong I was.
As I had hoped, Dom, Angel, a police officer and a nurse came rushing in, all displaying varying levels of alarm. Blaine took one last wounded look at me before dropping his gaze to the floor. He was defeated. I had broken him down. I really was my father’s child.
I didn’t face him as he walked away. The truth was ugly enough.
Fuck it.
Fuck it all.
Fuck feeling like this. Fuck trying to find a reason for this pain.
Fuck fucking, sick-fuck fathers. Fuck them to the nth degree.
Fuck the scars they created. Fuck the pieces of a person they left behind.
Fuck the tiny glimpse of happiness only to have it snatched away. Fuck wanting someone so bad that you continuously put yourself out there, knowing that you’ll be demolished in the blink of a gorgeous, green eye.