I lay back down and pulled the blanket over my ears, trying to cover myself as much as possible. If only there was a way to hide the shame and the pain I felt. Granite seduced me, and I succumbed so fucking easily. If only I had fought harder, tried harder to not give in to the lust and the way my body desired him. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been smothered in shame like I was now. Then I’d merely have the pain and guilt of being partly responsible for a girl losing her life.
But I didn’t fight hard enough. I caved. I succumbed, and I opened my fucking soul to him, gave him something I could never give someone else. And I’d be forced to live with that shame for the rest of my life. The shame of a naïve ballerina girl. The shame of a girl who thought it was possible for the dark to fall in love with the light. Granite was dark, and I was light…well, at least I used to be. Not anymore.
Onyx rounded the bed to stand in front of me again. “I’m going to leave, but when I get back, that bottle of water better be fucking empty.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll strap you to that bed and shove a fucking IV in your goddamn arm.”
“That sounds fun.”
“I’m serious, Alyx. I won’t just stand aside and watch you wither away over something you had no control over. But your wellbeing? That is something you do have control over.”
Onyx turned and left. The door closed behind him, and I waited for the click of the lock. But there wasn’t any. Was I that far gone in my mind that they didn’t think I’d try to escape? Or was this supposed safe house safe against people getting in, and people trying to get out?
Closing my eyes again, I took a deep breath. The room smelled new, clean, with a subtle scent of lavender. It was unfamiliar, and it piqued my curiosity. I cursed my inquiring mind making it impossible for me to fall asleep again.
Frustrated and annoyed, I pushed the blanket off me, placing my hand on my forehead as I stared up at the ceiling. It was white, plain, and looked like every other fucking ceiling. Even the one Neon hung from like a slaughtered pig. The memory made my gut wrench and my chest tighten. It wasn’t an image anyone would easily forget. The look of agony on her face was haunting. The sight of blood dripping off her body was terrifying. I wondered if he thought about it, if Neon’s face plagued him. I hoped it did. I hoped her face wouldn’t allow him to close his fucking eyes at night.
I sat up and put my legs off the side of the bed. My head spun, a bout of nausea rushing through my stomach and up my throat. It was a sensation I had been very familiar with. The feeling of your body protesting in desperate need of water and food. Lucky for me, it was also something I knew how to ignore. It wasn’t the first time my body had been starved. Dehydrated, yes, but not starved.
Shutting my eyes tight, I waited for the dizziness to dissipate. It only lasted a few seconds, after which I let my gaze sweep across the room.
Gray walls. White sheets. Oak laminated flooring. But no windows. It didn’t surprise me, though. It wasn’t like I had a need for a view. There were two closet doors in front of me, and an opening in the wall next to it, leading to the bathroom. There was no bathroom door, and I could see the corner of a bathtub.
The bottle of water on the bedside table caught my eye. Suddenly, I was hyperaware of how dry my throat was, my tongue feeling like it had been rolling around in fucking sand. But drinking that water would mean I was giving them what they wanted, something I didn’t want to do even if it meant hurting myself. I couldn’t care less about myself, but I did care about not giving them—givinghimthe satisfaction of obeying. The resentment that swirled in my gut fueled the need to be an insolent prisoner to these bastards.
Ignoring the bottle for now, I looked down, only to realize I was wearing a shirt about twenty sizes too big for me. The last thing I remembered before waking up here was looking into Granite’s eyes as he told me Neon was dead. And I wasn’t wearing this shirt during that conversation. Someone dressed me. Someone touched me. The thought alone was vile and cruel. For some inexplicable reason, a part of me hoped it was him, and no one else. At least it wouldn’t have been the first time he saw me naked. Touched me. Fucking ruined me.
I brushed it off, choosing not to fret over something as futile as who the fuck dressed me.
My legs felt unsteady as I got up, as if my feet weren’t firmly placed on the ground. I grabbed hold of the bedside table, feeling lightheaded. It only took a few seconds for the dizziness to pass.
While I held the table, my finger touched the cold bottle of water, and it provoked my thirst, igniting the instinct to quench it. I cursed as I stomped toward the bathroom, trying to ignore how fucking parched I was.
The bathroom walls were the same gray as the bedroom, the floor covered with white and gray checkered tiles.
I stared at the bathtub. The idea of taking a bath was tempting, wanting to rid my skin of the filthy taint. But I turned and walked back into the room, deciding the bed seemed much more inviting, as I could simply pull the sheets over my head and pretend the world didn’t exist.
Then the bottle of water taunted me again. Just one sip. One tiny sip to get the sand out of my mouth. And Onyx was right; my mouth did taste like ass.
Picking up the bottle, my mouth dried even more when I broke the seal and twisted the cap. My throat scratched, and I couldn’t even swallow a tiny bit of spit. As I brought the bottle to my mouth, a tear slipped down my face. My body was my worst enemy. It didn’t allow me to fight the lust Granite stirred in me, making me succumb so easily. And it didn’t allow me to fight these bastards with the only weapon I had…me. I hated my body. I hated it more now than I ever had before.
One large gulp of water soothed my throat as I swallowed. But it wasn’t enough. It simply teased my body into wanting more. So, I drank more. And more. And more.
This was all his fault. Things could have been different for us if he had only let me go, saving Neon’s life. But he didn’t. He was too selfish for that. With every mouthful I swallowed, my guilt became heavier, as if the water settled like concrete in my stomach. More tears rolled down my cheeks, my mind flipping between images of Granite’s face while he took my body I offered so willingly, to Neon’s face covered in tears and pain. It was too much. The contradiction, the extreme feeling of bliss bouncing to the punishing shame, was just too damn much.
I jerked the bottle away from my lips and threw it across the room while a furious scream ripped from my throat.
How long before the pain would finally consume me whole? How long before the shame would bury me while both their faces haunted me?
God, I hated him. I hated him for being the reason agony was gnawing at my bones. I hated him for playing my body like a violin. But most of all, I hated that the image of his face still stirred something to life inside me.
I hated him giving me hope during those moments of ecstasy.
And I fucking hated him for ruining me.
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