Page 236 of Jagged Souls

I am a fucking disease.

No wonder he doesn’t want to touch me.

“Just leave me alone,” I say.

“Come home with me.”

“I don’t want to.” I don’t want to go back to the house that didn’t protect me. Where I lost my daughter. Where Dayne’s room sits painfully empty. Where the flowers are all gone minus the ones at the front, a reminder that Leno died because of me. Where there’s no dog barking. Where it sounds even more silent for a mute man’s absence.

I brush at my eyes, but I’m not crying.

Because I’m fucking done being weak.

“Okay,” he says, offering me his hand. “Then let’s just go for a drive.”

“I don’t want to be in a car with a fucking hypocrite,” I snap.

“How am I a hypocrite?”

“You come in here, and you judge me for ignoring shit and for healing in a way you don’t approve of –”

“Giving in to an addiction isn’t healing.”

“And you’ve ignored everything too!” I shout over him.

“I’m not ignoring any–”

“I raped you!” I scream as I hop off the desk and shove him backwards. “Irapedyou!Say it!”

“Micha!” He takes a step back.

“Say it!”Admit it. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen, so when you say you love me, I can believe you actually do.

“You didn’t –” he starts.

“Why won’t you say it?”

“Because you’re my wife!” he roars. “And the thought of you –” He cuts himself off, his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring. He clenches his fists in an effort to control himself, and Ihatethat he still has that ability. That he can think about me, about how much I need him to besafeandlovingandgoodwhile I’m such a fucking disease to him. I can’t control the pain inside of me. I can’t stop it from bleeding out into a rage-fueled attack on those I love.

I just need the fucking V.

I spin towards the desk, but he wraps both his arms around me and hauls me to his chest.

“Just let me have some,” I say, a desperate whisper, a heart-felt plea. I try to pull apart his hands, but he doesn’t let go of me.

“We can get through this.” I don’t know who he’s trying to convince, but that anger I’m trying so hard to bury raises its ugly head.

I claw at his hands, try to stomp on his feet. “You’re ignoring it as much as me!” I shout.

“No, I’m –”

“Then say it! Fuckingsay it!”

Fucking see me as the monster I am instead of just acting like I’m not. Fuckingsee me.Fuckingsee me and let me know that I’m not a monster.

Because I know I am.

And I need him to tell me I’m not.