Page 111 of My Girl

I ball my fists. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

“You’ll never make it without me.”

Both of us are quiet then. I can blow off most of it, but those last words cut through me like a jagged piece of glass.

I wasn’t a whole person. I wasn’t my real self. Not until Crave came into my life.

“Get up,” he says. He moves toward me. “It’s time we end this, you little bitch.”

I grab the knife, ready to defend myself. I’ll kill him if I have to.

“The fuck is your problem?” I shout.

“You’re so fucking easy,” he laughs. “So fucking easy, it’s embarrassing, baby. Watching you fall for me like that. So ready to let your daddy take care of you.”

He swings his open palm forward, ready to choke me. I open myself to let him choke me.

But something tells me this isn’t about sex.

Something tells me to resist him.

I raise the knife, jutting it forward. I scream.

He blocks the shot, the knife piercing his pointer and middle finger. Cutting through the flesh and bone.

One finger falls. The other hangs by the last thread of skin.

My jaw drops.

He howls.

The knife isn’t supposed to be that sharp.

How is it that sharp?

How—

“Fuck!” Crave yells.

I drop the knife. Blood gushes onto the ground, spilling out of his fingers. My body buzzes.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I grab the pillow next to me, holding it to his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I?—”

He nods toward the shopping bags. “Get the curling iron.”

“What?”

“Get the fucking curling iron!” he shouts. “The curling iron. Turn it to the hottest setting.”

I tear through the shopping bag. Find the appliance. Plug it in. A red light flashes on the black handle, the gold metal gleaming above it.

After a minute, it turns green. Four hundred and twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit.

“Bring it to me,” he says.

I unplug it and carry it over. He lifts his hand, staring at me. I press it to the mound of flesh, wrapping the metal around the wound. His skin sizzles, the wound searing closed. I do the same thing to the other finger. He curses. Bones stick out of each nub.

We’ll have to go to a doctor one day. For now, it works.