Page 171

THIS ISN’T A GAME

Lizzie

NOVEMBER 5, 2003

S CHOOL STARTED THREE DAYS AGO, AND I STILL HADN’T RETURNED.

Dad was raging about me being at home, because when he drove me to the hospital last Sunday, he’d been expecting them to keep me. However, due to the lack of beds and because I wasn’t an immediate risk to myself, I was released after seventy-two hours.

The doctors told me I was going through mixed episodes, but I wasn’t so sure about that, because my highs were getting higher by the day, and I longed for the moment my mind swallowed me whole and I didn’t have to think anymore.

Now, I was back under my parents’ roof, with my father no longer able to hide his repulsion, which was fine by me because I, too, couldn’t hide my lack of shits to give.

I was starting to lose large chunks of time during the day, where I would zone out and have no memory when I came to, and it only fueled the reckless streak inside of me.

It felt like my entire being had been shuffled around and reprogrammed to work on a primal-urge frequency. My senses were in overload, while my empathy was at an all-time low. I found myself rapidly shifting between the craving to have sex and the yearning to slit my wrists.

My parents couldn’t seem to stand me, and my father often took my mother away from the house for long stretches of time every evening.

I knew why.

He was giving me privacy to kill myself.

He wanted me dead.

They all did .

Late Wednesday evening, I was alone and pacing the entry hall of my house when the doorbell rang.

Confused, I stared at the door for a long beat, wondering if it was real or just my imagination.

I was hearing more things lately and couldn’t tell if the doorbell was another figment of my fucked-up mind. If it was, then it could be the monster trying to get back in and I was not falling for his trap.

Tiptoeing toward the door, I stretched up to look through the frosted-glass panel and caught a glimpse of a shadow.

Panicking, I gripped my hair and resumed my pacing.

What if it was the scary lady?

Holy fuck, what if she was coming back for me?

She’d said she would.

She’d promised.

The doorbell rang again, followed by a loud knock.

Yelping in surprise, I hurried toward the door and decided to just open it.

If it was her, then she could have me.

I didn’t give a shit anymore.

When I yanked the door inward, my breath caught in my throat.

Whiskey-brown eyes greeted me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I breathed, gripping the doorknob as my heart fired up with a thunderous boom. “What are you doing here?”

“I think I left my phone charger in your room,” Hugh replied, holding up his trusted Nokia. “I’m on my last bar.” He shrugged awkwardly before adding, “Is it a good time?”

Yes!

Yes, yes, yes…

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” I stepped sideways to let him pass. “Come in.”

Without a word, Hugh walked past me and moved for the stairs.

“H-how are you?” I asked, scrambling up the staircase after him.

“Fine.”

“Are you hungry?” Trailing after him, I hovered in my bedroom doorway and watched as he located his books. “I could make you something to eat.”

“No thanks, I ate before I came here,” he replied in a polite tone, while he continued to search for his charger, eventually finding it beneath the tangled sheets on my bed.

He briefly rolled the cord around the plug before pocketing it and moving for the door. “Thanks.”

“W-wait!” I strangled out, feeling panicked at the thought of him leaving me again, as I blocked the doorway. “Please.”

Hugh stopped right in front of me but kept his attention on something over my shoulder. Thin air , I presumed. It was easier to look at than I was. “I need to go now, Liz.”

“Don’t leave.” I placed my hands on his stomach and slid them up until I was gripping his shoulders. “Stay.”

A tremor racked through his big body, but he didn’t respond, clearly refusing to look at me.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Pushing up on my tiptoes, I pressed a lingering kiss to the curve of his jaw. “Forgive me.”

His jaw clenched, right along with his hands, and I knew that his balled fists weren’t a prelude for violence. He was battling the urge to love me back.

Reaching up, I gently stroked his cheek and watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat moments before his eyelids fluttered shut.

Stepping closer, I trailed my palms down his chest and then his stomach before slipping my fingers into the waistband of his gray sweats.

His breathing increased, nostrils flaring from the effort it was taking him to not react, but he was so damn stubborn, I knew he wouldn’t give in.

Pushing both hands beneath the waistband of his boxers, I reached around and grabbed his hard ass with one hand, while using the other to stroke his rapidly hardening length.

Still, he wouldn’t give in.

Pushing back up on my tiptoes, I slowly traced the length of his neck with my tongue, not stopping until I reached his mouth and captured his bottom lip between my teeth.

I tugged hard, causing him to finally hiss, before releasing it with a loud pop and then soothing the tender flesh with my tongue.

“We are over,” he finally bit out, jaw clenched. “I’m not yours to touch.”

“And yet I’m pumping your dick,” I purred back, reveling in the fury that shone in his eyes when he glared at me. “Funny little world, isn’t it?”

His whiskey-colored irises were almost eclipsed by his dilated pupils, assuring me that while he might very well despise me, he still wanted me. Not to mention the fact that he had yet to pull away.

“This isn’t a game,” he bit out, bracing his hands against the doorframe above my head. “Do you hear me? My life isn’t a fucking game . You can’t keep toying with me, not when I’m trying to move on.”

“How’s that working for you?” I asked softly, pushing up to nuzzle his cheek with mine, while I continued to pump his shaft exactly how he liked it. “Moving on is hard , isn’t it?”

“Liz, please ,” he groaned, hissing out a strangled breath, as his cheeks grew flushed. “I can’t do this.”

“But you haven’t done anything,” I coaxed in a voice that was thick with need. “Hmm?” I upped my pace, gripping him tighter, pulling him harder, while I trailed my nails over his glorious ass. “There you go,” I purred, working him over better than anyone could. “Let me take care of you.”

“I, ah…no, I really…please…fuck!” A raw, male, guttural groan tore from his chest, and his ass muscles tightened, while his hips strained into my touch. “I shouldn’t, ah…” His hips thrust again. “You shouldn’t…” Another delicious thrust. “Fuck, this is so…”—hissing out a breath, he bit down on his bottom lip and tightened his grip on the doorframe—“…wrong!”

“But it feels so good , doesn’t it?” I whispered, tracing his neck with my tongue again and then smirking when I felt him nod his head.

“You know I can make you feel better than her,” I continued to whisper, tease, and plead, while my hand worked frantically to carry him over the cliff he was clearly avoiding. “Just give in to what you really want and let yourself have this, baby.” I licked and nuzzled at his neck. “Imagine you’re in my bed, exactly where you should be, and you’re between my legs, pushing this deep inside me, filling me up, and making me stretch to fit all of this !”

That did the trick.

The sexiest male growl of approval tore from his throat when his orgasm crashed through him, causing his hips to buck and body to tremble.

Still bracing the doorframe behind me and still trembling from the aftershocks, Hugh dropped his head and sucked in several deep, steadying breaths.

Reluctant to let go but knowing I had to, I slowly withdrew my hands from him and readjusted his boxers and sweats.

His chest was still heaving, and he was still staring down at his feet, and I knew that meant he was drowning in guilt and shame.

His reaction caused a pang of secondary guilt inside of me. Contrary to how I felt about the rest of the world and the people in it, I would rather peel the skin from my bones than purposefully inflict pain on this boy.

At least, that’s how I felt today.

Tomorrow, who knew how I would feel.

Certainly not me.

But today, I loved him.

Deciding not to make it harder for him, I slipped out of the room and walked into the bathroom.

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I walked over to the sink and washed him off my hands.

The seconds ticked by in silence before the sound of his footsteps on the creaking staircase filled my ears, followed by the front door slamming.

Exhaling a strangled breath, I clutched the porcelain sink and stared at my reflection.

A stranger stared back at me.

A whore had stolen my face.

“Good girls stay still and take it. Only whores fight back. You don’t want to be a whore, do you, munchkin…”

Unable to stand another second of looking at the person I loathed most, I quickly opened the cabinet door.

Retrieving my faithful razor, I climbed into the bath and draped a leg over the side.

Knowing I needed to do this to stabilize my mind before the switch came, I fixated on a particularly fleshy part of my upper thigh and went to town on myself, carving, cutting, and soothing my soul with every rough drag of the blade.