22

Dolly

As my moka pot heated up, I stood in the kitchen, staring at the knife block. Pepper being here had been a distraction. She’d kept my mind occupied the best she could. But I was alone now. With my thoughts. The pain that had been there, slowly itching to grip hold of me, was no longer being pushed back.

Walking over to the knives, I took out the smallest one. The paring knife. I used it to peel apples. Staring down at it, I could already feel the relief it could bring me. I just had to slice a small piece of skin and let blood trickle out. Pepper wouldn’t know. No one would.

I reached for the knob on the stove and turned off the gas eye. Espresso wasn’t what I needed, and I knew it. Walking over to the closest kitchen chair, I sat down and pulled up my sundress. My gaze went to the marks I’d made with my nails. They were almost gone, leaving nothing but faint marks of where they had been.

Pressing the tip of the knife on the upper part of my inner thigh, I moved it slowly, wincing as the sharp sting grew worse.

“One hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two.”

The thick blood oozed out, and I stopped as my eyes watered. I set the knife down on the table and let out a small sob as I watched the red trickle run down my leg. When it ran under my leg onto the seat, I covered my mouth in horror at what I’d let myself do. Again.

One hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two.

It had been years since I’d done this. I had become a stronger person—or so I’d thought. The horror of my past I had shut away. Closed it off. Let it go. But now, here I was, opening the door. Shame, guilt, self-disgust all began to settle over me. It was as if old bullies had shown back up to taunt me. Some I knew all too well.

One hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two.

Knocking at my door broke into my inner turmoil, and I stared in that direction, but I didn’t get up. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with people. They’d go away. More knocking, then Micah’s voice.

“Tink?”

Standing up, I started to go to him and paused, looking down as blood ran down to my knee. Turning, I rushed over to the sink to get a paper towel and wet it. I had to clean this up. I didn’t want Micah to see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to, but especially him. He’d know I was damaged.

He’d come to see me. That meant something. Right?

“Dolly!” he called louder and knocked again.

I had to hold the paper towel on the wound and apply pressure. I’d cut deeper than I’d intended. The sound of keys in the lock caused me to panic. The door opening and heavy footsteps had me moving faster. Taking the bloody paper towel, I turned and shoved it into the trash can.

“Dolly, where are you?” Micah sounded worried.

He would be horrified if he caught me like this. I had to clean up the blood on the floor, chair, and even table where the knife had been, but I didn’t have time. Keeping him out of here was the only option. Grabbing another paper towel, I held it to the cut as I made my way out of the kitchen, then squeezed my thighs together to hold it there when I reached the living room.

Micah came walking back out of my bedroom at about that time. His eyes locked on me, and relief softened his tense expression. “Tink,” he said with a sigh and made his way over to me. His eyes searching my face. “You’ve been crying.”

Crap. I’d forgotten about that. I’d been more worried about the blood.

I shook my head and wiped at my face. “I’m fine,” I assured him. “What’re you doin’ here?” I asked him.

He stopped in front of me. “I wanted to see you. I had to wait until Pep left.”

“Why?”

He hadn’t wanted to see me after we had sex.

He cupped my face in his hands and brushed his thumbs over my cheekbones. It was hard to remember why I shouldn’t be letting him do this when he looked at me with those blue eyes like I was special.

“I missed you.”

No. No, he was just saying that. I knew better. Pepper had been right all along. I was too naive. I shook my head.

“I’m not buying that, Micah Abe,” I told him and tried to step back, but I felt the paper towel I’d forgotten between my legs and stopped before it fell to the ground.

“I need to explain,” he said.

“No need. You can just go.”

Hearing him tell me any excuse was dangerous. I was likely to fall for it hook, line, and sinker. Simply because I wanted it to be true.

“Tink, you don’t mean that,” he murmured as he ran a finger over my bottom lip. “You missed me too. Didn’t you?”

Yes. I didn’t tell him that though. I stayed silent.

“I want you to trust me,” he whispered, staring down at my mouth.

He hadn’t exactly done much to earn my trust. Or anything at all really. Except the fact that he’d been gentle during sex. He made it good for me. I had known it wasn’t supposed to be good the first time—or even the first few times. I’d heard stories about it. Micah made sure it was special.

Then, he’d walked right out of the room, taking the bloodied sheets with him.

“You want me to trust you? I did. And then you left me alone to go tell…some blonde woman that I was boring and was bad at sex.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about? Blonde woman? Fucking Dylan? Did she come to my room?”

I just stared at him. He seemed sincere…sincerely pissed off.

I shook my head. “No. She stopped me on the stairs when I was leaving.”

His nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched tightly.

“Tink, not one moment with you was boring. It was fucking spectacular. One time isn’t gonna be close to enough for me.”

“Did you come here to have sex again?” I blurted out.

He chuckled. “No. But once we’ve talked, if that’s an option, then, yeah, baby, I’d like it very much.”

My entire body began to tingle with anticipation. I had to stop this. I couldn’t do this with him. Placing my hands on his chest, I shoved away from him. Before I could feel proud of myself, I felt panic instead. The paper towel fell to the floor, and I froze. There was a chance he wouldn’t notice. I could steer him toward the door. Tell him I wanted to be alone. That I needed time to get over it.

His eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to read my thoughts. He tilted his head as he looked at me. A strand of his blond hair that wasn’t long enough to fit in the ponytail fell over the side of his face. Then, his gaze trailed down my body until it stopped on the floor.

For a moment, it was like watching this all play out in slow motion. I had to say or do something.

When he bent to pick up the bloody paper towel, I took another step away from him. Lies began forming in my head, and I tried to think of the most believable one. I started to open my mouth to spout it out when he grabbed my leg with one hand and jerked my sundress up with another.

I attempted to squeeze my legs together, but he pulled it open, then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Tink,” he said tightly, “what did you do?”

I struggled to grab on to an excuse and verbalize it. They all seemed weak and unbelievable. I shook my head instead of saying anything. Micah stood up, his entire body now rigid as he grabbed my hand and began walking me toward the kitchen.

No, no, no, no, no. This was bad.

I pulled back on my arm, trying to slow him or redirect him.

His hand wrapped around my wrist and continued to tug me with him. When he walked into the room, he froze.

His hand squeezed my wrist and then let go. “What the fuck, Dolly?” he whispered.

I closed my eyes and turned to run out of the room, but he was quicker than I was. His hands grabbed my waist and stopped me. The ragged breath he took as he held me quietly for a moment told me he was struggling with this. The lump in my throat was there instantly.

One hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two.

“Why, Tink?” His voice was thick with emotion.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” I lied. I knew. I’d had hundreds of hours of counseling that taught me why and how to overcome it.

He pressed his face into my hair. “Please, tell me how to fix it.” He sounded as if he was in pain.

I shook my head. “You can’t.”

We stood there silently, and he turned me around to face him before pulling me into his chest and holding me. I could hear his heart pounding rapidly. My hands fisted in his shirt, and I clung to him as the tears came and the lump began to ease.

He reached down and scooped me up, then walked back to the living room, carrying me over to the sofa, where he sat down and continued to cradle me in his arms. He rested his forehead on the top of my head. “I will maim, kill, torture, whatever I need to do to whoever caused this if you will just tell me why, who. Point me in the right direction. Something. Just give me something here, Tink.”

I stared at his arm wrapped around me. There was no one he could do any of those things to in order to fix this. Even if my aunt were still alive, him harming her the way…she had done to me…it wouldn’t heal what she had damaged. That was permanent. The past couldn’t be rewritten.

“There is no one,” I said, turning my head so that he could see the truth in my eyes. “Nothing you can do will erase history.”

He was silent a moment before saying, “Tell me. If I know, I can help you. I will help you. I never want you to hurt your body again. I can’t stand it, Tink. This perfect skin is…precious.”

I had two options here. Tell him the truth, which meant trusting another person with my secrets. Or refuse to open up and possibly push away a guy I didn’t want to leave.