Page 45 of Myself

“Ry, don’t be stupid. You should stay at your place,” I interrupt him.

“I don’t mind,” Jaycent says, his voice rough. He clears his throat, and my body tenses at the sound of his voice. He’s mad. Probably mad at me. It’s my fault we’re in this situation. I answered his phone call after all.

An hour later, I’m pulling the yellow comforter back on my king-size bed as I hear the sink running in my bathroom.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. So much has happened today. So much that I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. Jasmine was never pregnant. Jaycent was never going to be a dad. And I never had to stay with Conner out of pity. Shit, I felt so sorry for myself. And look what I’ve done. It could have cost Ashlyn her life.

I open my eyes and grip the bright yellow comforter tighter in my hands. I hate yellow. I laugh at that thought. My mother furnished this apartment for me, and out of all the colors she could have chosen to decorate my room with, she chose fucking yellow.

I yank the comforter off the bed and wad it up into a big ball before tossing it into a corner by the windows.

Jaycent walks out of my bathroom at that exact moment and comes to a stop. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers low on his hips, and I hate how good he looks in them. I hate that I missed four years of this due to a lie. “What are you doing?” he asks, slowly eyeing the corner.

“I hate yellow,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I know,” he says.

I look up at him. “You do?”

He gives me a smirk. “Of course, I do. Remember that time your mom bought you that yellow dress for Easter?” He chuckles. “You were so mad because you said it reminded you of the wallpaper she had in one of the guest rooms.”

“I remember,” I say, running a hand down my face. It was hideous. It had feathers on it. And the worst part was that I was sixteen. It might have been better if I had been six or seven.

He chuckles. “You spilled coffee on it on purpose just for an excuse to change.”

I had never told anyone that. I mean yes, it happened, but I kept it my little secret. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

When I open my eyes, he’s standing in front of me. He places his hands on my cheeks and lifts my chin. “Talk to me.” I try to shake my head, but he holds it still. “Talk to me, Becca,” he repeats.

I let out a long breath. “I just want it all to end,” I say as tears come to my eyes. I’m so tired of crying.

He frowns. “What to end?”

“This.” I lift my hands out wide, and my bottom lip trembles. “Conner could have killed Ashlyn tonight. And I would have had to live with that.” The tears start to come faster, and my throat tightens. “What would I do without her ...?”

“No, no, no,” he says quickly “Becca, we talked about this.”

I swallow. “And she was just sitting there laughing and smiling like he hadn’t just tried to kill her.” How does she do it? Be so careless?

“She was fine,” he assures me.

“I’m not fine,” I shout, pulling away from him. He lets me go. “You don’t know what it’s like,” I say as a sob bubbles up in my throat.

“Know what what’s like?” he asks slowly.

“To think that you might die.” I can’t help but say. That kind of fear is crippling.

His features harden, and then he demands, “Did he ever touch you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, and my hands literally shake.

“It does,” he argues.

“It doesn’t,” I shout. “You beat him in the bathroom at a hotel. Yet here he was coming into my apartment two weeks later. You think he’s going to stop? You think he’s going to walk away now?” I shake my head as angry tears fall down my cheeks. “I don’t know why he fucking cares!” I growl. “He never loved me anyway. Why won’t he just walk away?” I ask, looking down at the gray carpet and running my hands through my hair with frustration.

I know what it feels like when you can’t breathe. When the world starts to fade, and you gasp for air. It’s terrifying.

“Becca, talk to me, baby,” I hear Jaycent say. I open my mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. I’m gasping for air just like I had been before ...

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