Page 145 of Seizing Control: Part One

When I am forced to surrender to my need for oxygen, I gulp in air.

Snot bubbles. My body trembles. Tears stream down my face. Somehow, they sting more than the cuts I’ve made. As my brain fights to subdue my violent craving, I surrender to the agony radiating through my chest. I’ve been brutalised. Had bones broken. Been violated in the worst way. Emotionally damaged. Physically tortured.

Losing Zeke hurts more than all of that combined.

Add Slash’s abandonment on top of it, and I’m shattered beyond healing.

A million shards of misery stab me.

One ray of hope warms me.

My heart calls for my first love.

My head wants to seek out the big man.

Thrashing violently, forcing myself to break free of the ugliness in my head, I throw the razor against the wall on the opposite of the bathroom as hard as I can manage. It hits with a clunk, then clinks as it bounces across the tiled floor. There is longing in my veins, for death, for salvation, as I stare at the blade.

I want to die.

I want to live.

Zeke’s voice echoes around my head as he tells me that he’ll die for me.

I can’t acknowledge the accuracy in his vow.

It hurts too much.

I would walk through fire to bring him back.

He could have every breath in my body if it meant he could live.

Hugging my midsection, I curl up in a ball on the bottom of the blood smeared bathtub. I lie there until the sun lowers on the horizon. Shadows loom across the small room. Odd shapes that make me wish I was blind. I can’t face the light, but the dark scares me even more.

The bathroom turns gloomy.

My heart pounds in my ears.

I force myself upright.

The mess I’ve made is sticky.

Violence and despair.

My ruined leggings hang around my knees as I shakily climb out of the tub. I stumble over to the light switch. The moment the bathroom is illuminated, I wish it was dark again. My hair is a mess. Tears streaked down my face. The cuts on my stomach have clotted, thick lines of dried blood. My thighs continue to weep freely.

I toe off my ballet flats.

Strip naked.

Flick on the shower tap.

Step under the hot water.

And, set about washing away the evidence of my descent into madness.

Night-time is the only chance I get to be with the men I love.

Dirty dreams that replace my waking nightmare...

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