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Hot, fat tears roll down my cheek as I do just that, and I want to bury my head in his chest and hide.

But I don’t want to be that girl anymore. The one I was before. The one who’s always crying. Always hiding. I don’t want to be his victim all of the time.

“Now tell me the truth,” he says, his temple to mine. “You really didn’t want me?”

A nd I can’t hold it back anymore.

“I only ever wanted you!” Those words come out like a scream.

He stills, pulling back as he stares at me and I have no idea what he’s thinking, but it all comes out in a rush.

“I only ever wanted you,” I say again, breathing hard, tears streaking down my cheeks.

“But you… you gave me to them.” I can barely say those words.

It’s hard to speak, getting them out, but it feels good, too.

Like a weight lifted from my shoulders. I could never say that in the aftermath.

Never admit that at least one of them , I wanted.

“I didn’t want them.”

I drag him closer to me by his shirt and he comes forward, his expression unreadable.

“You let them use me and you didn’t fucking care.” My voice breaks, and my fist hurts from clenching his shirt so hard.

His grip on me loosens, but he doesn’t let go.

“Why would you do that?” I whisper. “If you cared at all… why would you do that?”

He stares at me, his brows furrowed.

Time ticks by.

I feel light in the wake of that confession, but the longer the seconds stretch between us, the more conflicted I feel.

“Say something!” I grab his shirt with both hands, shaking him. “Fucking say something.” More tears come, falling freely, but he doesn’t say a word.

He just angles his head, his lips over mine, and he kisses me, hard.

I open for him and he groans as he sucks on the ball of my piercing. When I whimper, salty tears between our lips, he finally lets go. But I taste blood in my mouth, and I don’t know if it’s his or mine, the way my own teeth dig into his lip, right by his piercing.

He doesn’t pull away though. He bites my piercing again, and I slip my hands under his shirt and drag my nails down his side.

When he pinches my nipple, he pulls, too, making me gasp against him, but I still don’t want to stop.

I’m not the girl I was.

I can handle a little ruin.

I’m not a victim. Not his. Not theirs. Not anyone’s. Not anymore.

“You don’t have a reason, do you,” I say against his mouth. “You don’t even know why you let it happen. Why you offered me to them.”

He doesn’t answer me.

“Sometimes I hate you,” I tell him as he pulls away, both of us catching our breath, the taste of iron on my tongue, our noses lined up together.

I hear him panting, feel his ribcage expand under my hands.

I know he can feel my pulse ticking in my throat, his hand still around me, his other still grabbing my breast hard enough to hurt.

“Sometimes I hate you for what you did to me.”

“I know, baby,” he finally says, breaking his silence, his breath dancing on my mouth. “I know.”

“And sometimes,” I carve my nails in deeper against his skin, his muscles twitching in my wake as my chest heaves, “sometimes I think I…”

His mouth covers mine, drowning out my words, and he’s biting me again, and I’m biting him back, more blood on my tongue from his lip.

He pulls back, shaking his head, temple pressed to mine. “Sometimes you what?” he asks, flicking his tongue to swipe the blood from his lip. “Huh? Say it.”

I just stare at him for a moment.

He runs his thumb over my windpipe when I don’t speak. “Tell me, Remi.”

“Is it always like this?” I gasp out, swallowing down my other confession. The one he doesn’t deserve.

He seems to be holding his breath as he drags his hand down my stomach, gripping my hip, but keeping his hold on my throat, tipping my chin up higher.

“With Maya? Other girls? Are you always so rough?”

He just looks at me, and my chest squeezes, reading the truth in his eyes. I don’t know why it matters. I don’t know why I ever thought for a second his violence is love , but it still hurts, knowing I’m not the only one.

But he drops his hands, plants them on either side of my head instead. “It’s never like it is with you.”

The breath leaves my lungs.

I think he’s avoiding the question. I think he’s telling me what I want to hear. But even still, I hold onto it.

“Never?” I push.

He shakes his head, bowing his to mine. “Never.”

“How is it different?” I press. “What is it about me?”

He grabs my arm again, the one he pushed the sleeves up on.

His fingers trail over my wounds. “You’re just like me.

” He brings my arm to his lips, kissing over the crusted blood.

“You’re fucked up. Just like me. And you know what did that?

” He nudges his nose against mine. “Not that night, Remi. That was just the explosion. But the fire that started it all?” He angles his head, his lips over mine.

“We were born this way, and beneath that shy bullshit there was a girl dying to be herself.” He pulls my arm over his bottom lip, and I suck in a breath.

“I don’t want you to hurt, Remi.” He drops my arm, placing his palm back beside my head.

“Not over me. Not over anyone. I don’t ever want to share you again.

I don’t want to let anyone touch you ever again.

I was stupid. If I could go back, it would only be just us.

We’d never leave that park. I’d blow off my own party to keep you so safe and I’d marry your ass the next day.

I was drunk, and I was fucking stupid. But let me make it better. Let me make it up to you.”

I open my mouth to tell him that’s impossible, but he presses a finger to my lips, his eyes locked on mine.

“Remi, baby… Let me at least try.”