Page 72 of Savage

I dump the food onto the sheetless bed, and even as I survey the mess, I realize I don’t care about it. He won’t be able to punish me for it anymore.

I’ll be the last person to punish myself.

I cross carefully back into the bathroom, my steps light on the tile. This time, I don’t want to slip and fall. A concussion would give me a break, but it’s not the sort of break I want.

It’s not permanent enough.

The strange calm that has suffused me doesn’t falter as I swing the tray forward and slam it into the glass with a strength I didn’t even know I had.

It cracks and shatters, several large shards landing on the bathroom counter.

Huh.

I guess desperation really does have a way of lending you the very thing you need in the moment.

This… This is what I need more than anything.

I don’t need his fake fucking smiles, or the feigned interest he shows in my video games, or the way he only wants me for my body—and only as long as I’m perfect, because he can’t have anything less from me.

I stare at the broken glass, reaching out to the sink to grab a sliver of it. It’s unsurprisingly sharp, and it slices into my fingers and palm. Droplets of red start to plop down onto the flawless white sink, and I marvel for a moment at just how much of a mess he’s going to have to clean up.

I doubt he can get his housekeeper to clean this up.

Maybe if I felt something, I’d have been amused that he’d have to cover this up somehow.

What a fucking inconvenience it’ll be for him.

My hand already feels as numb as my thoughts, the pain somewhere distant, and I’m grateful for that. I clutch my prize—the sharp, sharp piece of glass that’ll be the end of me—and head for the shower.

The water is still hot, and I sit down beneath it. I can’t even feel it scalding me any longer. I can only feel the glass in my hand as I watch the droplets of red swirl down the drain, and I sigh. It’s going to be over soon. So very, very fucking soon. All I have to do…

The blinding pain is unexpected amidst the numbness that’s settled over me, but it doesn’t last long before it turns into relief. If it hurts that much, it has to be deep enough. Red flows smoothly from my arm, and I stare at it in wonder.

It was surprisingly easy.

The other wrist isn’t as easy to slash, though, because it’s my non-dominant hand and I’ve already started to lose feeling in my fingers. But I can’t risk doing this half-assed, because if he was angry at me before…

How angry will he be at my corpse?

Laughter threatens to bubble up within me, and I rest my head against the back of the shower. I keep the glass in my hand, just in case, but the blood doesn’t stop flowing.

I close my eyes and smile as it all fades away.

CHAPTER 18

Hunter

The first thing I notice when I open the door to Stef’s room is the mess on the bed. I huff in annoyance, but she isn’t anywhere to be seen.

The shower is running though, so she must be there. I open that door, and…

The mirror is shattered.

“This petty rebellion won’t get you anything,” I say out loud, although my voice catches in my throat.

It’s just a rebellion. A cry for attention.

I go to the shower. The shower door is ajar, and water has escaped, creating a large puddle around it. There’s a red tint to the mess.

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