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He saved my life once before.
I let my guard down for a split second, and he rescued me.
He risked his own ass and didn’t think twice about it.
Part of me wishes he hadn’t.
Part of me wants the pain and loneliness to end.
The bigger part of me feels more for him than I should. The tangle of warmth in my belly when he smiles at me, the chills that shimmy down my spine when he’s near, the urge to fling myself into his strong arms and bury my head in his cologne-scented neck with the hope to forget, if just for a little while—I feel it all.
So today at the shelter, I let him in, just for a second, just to see if he felt the same way.
I saw the need in his expression, felt the heat in his gaze. He’s fucked me with his eyes more times than I can count, but today? Today he showed me more than I’d expected. Much more.
But emotions are too dangerous. They fuck with the mind and make you do stupid shit that gets people hurt or killed.
I already have plenty of blood on my hands.
I don’t need his.
So I made a decision. I kicked him out and slammed the door shut.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
I can’t give myself to someone if I’m only tiny shards of the person I used to be. That girl was awesome. She had a future. She had the love of her family. She was going places.
And I don’t mean to shitty neighborhoods where she takes out bad guys who fuck with her livelihood.
I put the gun down on a table, clutch the sides of my head, and let out a bloodcurdling scream that could probably shatter the glass in here if it wasn’t tempered.
Goddammit! I want to hurt someone! I want to inflict the same kind of burning, searing pain that slices through me, the type of pain you never forget because it cuts so deep and so hard and leaves a deep scar. I want someone to suffer the way I did!
The way I still do…
I need to find out the truth.
And then?
I torture the bastards who yanked everything away from me.
I make them pay.