Page 27 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

Well, right now, it’s front and fucking centre; the only thing I can think about.

Knocking the lid off, I stare down at the contents.Scissors, razor blades, a flip-knife.All the things I promised myself years ago that I’d get rid of.

I knew that if I kept them that one day temptation would become too much.

I’ve held strong. Not once have I even considered reaching for it since moving in here.But that’s all gone to shit, and it’s all my fucking fault.

Searching through the contents, I find what I need.

It’s not what I want. That’s the flip knife. That would sate the desire I have coursing through my veins right now.

But I can’t.

With a sigh, I pull a scalpel blade free. The steel glints under the bright lights from above and my mouth waters.

I should be trying to talk myself out of it, I know I should. But I’m too far gone.

With it pinched between my forefinger and thumb, I march back into the bathroom. I place it on the small shelf in my shower before finally stepping inside.My skin prickles as the burning water rushes over me, and I grit my teeth when the need to lower the temperature becomes unignorable.

But I don’t.

Stepping away won’t help.

I need this.

I need it so fucking badly.

As the seconds tick on, my muscles begin to relax, my need for pain sated for a few minutes.

But I know it’s only a short reprieve.I’ve played this game many, many times over the years.

A few things help stave off the need. Rugby. Going hard in the gym. Fighting. Sex. Sometimes, it’s enough to distract me. But often, it’s not.

Sometimes nothing comes anywhere close to touching it.

Squeezing my eyes closed, the image of Abigail curled up on her bathroom floor from a few weeks ago appears in my mind.The sight of her with those scissors in her hand and blood trickling down her thigh hit me so fucking hard.

It took every ounce of my strength to focus on her and not crumble to my own dark vices.

The sight of her doing the exact same thing that I’ve done to myself more times than I want to count cut me deeper than any blade could.

It was like watching my own worst nightmare come to life. Only it wasn’t me bleeding. It was the girl I couldn’t get out of my head hurting herself.

The roar that rips from my throat doesn’t sound anything like me as I bounce around the room, echoing, tormenting me.

My palms slam against the tiles, sending pain shooting up my arms. But it’s not enough.

It should be but it’s not.

Resting my head against the cool wall, I focus on my breathing.

In. Out.

In. Out.

In— “FUUUCK,” I bellow.

In a rush, I turn the shower off and grab the blade.

---