My phone pinged again, and I groaned, I couldn’t sit on the floor all damn day. I briefly wondered what the hell I had that was worth existing for. No job right now. No friends. No family that gave a crap about me. And now… no Adam. No man I was falling in love with.
I stood up, reaching across the kitchen counter, but not for my phone. I stared at the kitchen knife block. I’d never cut myself with them before. I trusted the razor blades. Clean cuts. Ease of use and disposal. The pain was a clean, icy bite, that roared through me, and made everything else fade into the background.
Sliding the filleting knife out of the block, I stared at the dangerously sharp edge, the pointed tip. It was literally made to slice flesh and meat.
My phone pinged again then, and this time I saw the screen. MyBiker. Dammit. I couldn’t stop myself from looking.
MyBiker: Please don’t write me off, little angel. I promise I’ll make it up to you.
MyBiker: I don’t want to lie to you. I just have no choice right now. Please trust me.
MyBiker: Please talk to me, my sweet girl. I would do anything for you.
I stared at the phone for a while. Then looked at the knife. Everything was spiralling out of control again. A few simple cuts would help me focus again, get my clarity back.
I picked up my phone, and sat back down on the kitchen floor, phone in one hand, and knife in the other.