Page 50 of Under Your Scars

His voice was so quiet, I don’t think he meant for me to hear it, and with that, any hope I had of him being my future shatters.

It’s nearly midnight. I’m a wreck.

Christian dropped me off at my apartment without a word, and I barely had my footing on the ground before he started driving off, and I haven’t heard from him since. It’s only been a few hours, but I suspect I won’t see him again for a long time. Maybe ever.

He got what he wanted from me, after all.

I’m sitting on the floor of my apartment, my back against the cabinets of my small kitchen. I’ve gone through three pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, an entire pack of Oreos, a cold, leftover pizza, and I’m two thirds of the way through a bottle of bitter tequila. I’m calling out of work sick tomorrow anyways, so I really don’t care if I’m hungover with a stomachache from hell.

I’m mourning, okay?

Mourning the loss of my dignity. Christian took it with him when he ruined my vagina and then called me a mistake.

My dress and heels are thrown carelessly across the room. All I’m wearing is the jewelry Christian gave me, and his suit jacket. My hair that I spent so much time curling is now messily covering my tits. I scoop another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth and hear a tap at my window. I don’t even glance up. My fuzzy brain is concentrated on one thing and one thing only: shoveling as much junk food as I can into my mouth and seeing if I can make it through this entire bottle of tequila before passing out.

Another tap comes from my window that I ignore.

Finally, after it’s obvious I’m not moving, I hear the Silencer wedge something under my windowsill, unlock it from the inside, and let himself in. I don’t look at him, but I can see him from the corner of my eye as he takes me in from the other side of the room. I’m sure I look like I’m in the middle of a mental breakdown. Not only am I naked, surrounded by junk food and alcohol, but dozens of discarded tissues circle me like I’m performing a seance with my tears and snot.

His heavy boots stomp against the floor and he kneels next to me. I feel the back of his gloved fingers brush along my cheek to move a strand of hair that's been stuck to my face from tears.

“Who do I need to kill?”

CHAPTER 15

THE SILENCER

One thing I cannot stand is the sight of Elena crying. It does unnatural things to me. Turns me into a feral beast. Makes me want to set the world on fire.

She’s naked, her long, bouncing curls resting over her tiny, perky tits and a large suit jacket covering her arms. She’s got big tears in her eyes and all I want to do is tear this mask off my face so I can kiss them away.

“Who do I need to kill?” I repeat, my voice laced with pure venom.

She makes a very unattractive snorting sound as she shovels another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Christian Reeves,” she mutters, in that softspoken voice that makes my dick hard every time I hear it. She repeats his name quietly into the tequila bottle like it’s an ancient curse as she takes a swig. “Him and his shiny shoes and his perfect teeth and his pretty blue eyes.”

She’s almost all the way through that tequila and I’m impressed that her tiny body is still functioning. I take a seat next to her, my legs straight out in front of me, spread wide. I grab Elena by her waist and drag her into the space between my legs so she’s lounging with her back against my chest. I nudge the top of her head with my masked chin.

“What did he do?” I ask softly.

She scoffs. “I had sex with him.” Tears betray her and start falling down her cheeks as she hiccups through her words. “Really good sex.A lotof really good sex. We had a lot of really good sex and then he took me out to dinner with his friends, and when we left, he said I was a mistake.” She laughs like she’s gone crazy and wipes her face with my forearm, and then her voice breaks. “I’m a mistake.”

My heart twists at the pain in her voice, but at the same time I resist the urge to laugh. She’s leaving out a lot of details, like the fact that Neil Hayden confronted her at the restaurant or that her boyfriend got arrested for aggravated assault for breaking his arm.

“He didn’t mean it,” I mumble into her hair.

“Why are you defending him? You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“He wasn’t talking about you. I’d bet my life on it.”

“Newsflash, asshole—you weren’t there.”

She takes another sip of the alcohol and her face twists in disgust, like she’s only just remembered that she hates tequila. She slumps against me and spreads her legs in a very unladylike fashion. “God, I’m such an idiot for thinking someone like him could actually have feelings for me.” Her lip quivers and she tilts her head back to look up at me. “Do you think I’m a mistake too?”

I rub a gloved finger along her jaw. “Of course not. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She scoffs. “You’re crazy. You don’t even know me,” she protests with a sniffle. “I really thought I was special, you know?”

“You are.”