Page 30 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

ABIGAIL

I’ve never minded being alone.

There’s something oddly comforting about being at one with yourself.

But being alone here, in the house where I grew up, the house where I lost my parents and my life fell apart, haunts me.

I barely slept last night. Pacing the big, empty house like a cat on the prowl.

Maybe it was Tally’s visit—her parting words. Or maybe it’s the fact that I know I can’t stay here, that I can’t hide forever.

Either way, sleep didn’t come easy.

Not until I found a small paring knife in one of the kitchen drawers and sliced it across my thigh.

Shame sits heavy in my chest as my fingers dance over the fresh dressing there. But the small measure of relief I felt was worth it.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t particularly want to live right now either. But I know deep down, I don’t want to die.

I just need… I need?—

A knock at the door echoes through the house, startling me.

I should have known Tally wouldn’t stay away. But I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to All Hallows’ yet either.

The fresh cut on my thigh stings as I hurry down the hall to the door and yank it open expecting to see?—

“You.”

“Can we talk?” Elliot runs a hand down the back of his neck, barely meeting my gaze.

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

“No, go away.” I go to slam the door in his face, but he presses his palm against it.

“Please, Abi. I… I’m worried about you.”

A bitter laugh leaves my lips. “I find that hard to believe. I’m fine. You’ve seen me. You can leave now.”

His stormy eyes narrow, dropping down my body, his nostrils flaring as his gaze lands on my thighs.

Lust and shame swirls inside me as I yank down my t-shirt over my pyjama shorts.

“You cut yourself again.” There’s a quiver in his voice that I’m sure I must be imagining.

“I’m fine,” I snap.

“Abi, you can’t?—”

“No, Elliot,” a weary sigh rolls through me, “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to turn up here pretending you care when we both know it’s a lie. That I’m nothing more than a game?—”

His hand shoots out and he grabs me around the throat. My hand goes to his and we stand there, his fingers curled tenderly around my skin, locked in a stalemate.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, my heart ratcheting. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

“I… Fuck. Fuck.” He snatches his hand away and jams his fingers into his hair, pacing like a caged animal.

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