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Chapter Fourteen

I’m angry, Beauty.

I ’m angry at you and your decision because it’s the wrong one. Angry at me and my rash actions because I pushed you too hard. But I want you so much! And I’m angry at the world and its stupid rules.

Fuck!

This rage, which I never wanted to consume me again, crawls through my body like a disgusting parasite. Eating me up from the inside, and I’m powerless. So fucking powerless! After what happened back then, I swore to myself that I would never lose control like that again.

As I step into the corridor outside the changing rooms, I stop, close my eyes briefly, and run my hands through my short hair. I give it a gentle tug and try to banish the images infiltrating my mind.

After a moment, when I have collected myself a little, I run my hands over my face and open my eyes. Then I see it, the blood. It’s everywhere. My breathing is heavy because I know that this is only happening in my sick head. There’s no blood on my hands, and yet it’s there. Forever. I can’t wash it off. I can’t undo what I have done.

The images and memories flood my mind and almost make me lose my goddamn mind. So I storm down the stairs, walk through the club, ignore everyone who speaks to me, and when I reach the punching bag, I beat the cold leather like a madman, which is precisely what I am. A lunatic, and I am so unspeakably angry, Beauty…