Page 46 of Attraction & Repulsion

“Yes, more scars.”

She stared at him for a long time, thinking about the white lines that littered parts of her body. Her cheek started to grow numb as she chewed and chewed and chewed.

Defeated, she nodded.

“May I?” Jax asked.

Strength withering away, she grunted permission.

Lifting her other arm, Jax shifted the sleeve to examine it. Line after line. Crosshatch after crosshatch. Like a series of railroad tracks.

Then he stepped back to gently lift the fabric of her shirt and expose her stomach. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

As he continued to lift her shirt higher to view her ribcage, Carson closedher eyes. What did it all look like to him? Dozens of faded white, pink, and red scars scattered on her torso mixed with fresh ones. A few of them Jax traced with his finger, the thicker lines that had caused the most damage. His touch sent a ripple of goosebumps down her body.

“Please don’t leave me,” Carson pleaded as a single tear dropped down her cheek. Surely he would want to leave, because who would want to be with someone like her?

Dropping her shirt, Jax placed his big hands on either side of her neck. She grabbed his wrists as much for support as to keep him there. He wiped Carson’s tear away with his thumb.

“I won’t,” he said.

Then he pulled her in for another embrace. Carson’s heart swelled, filling her chest cavity with so many emotions. Shock, because he hadn’t run at the first sight of her hideousness. Embarrassment that he’d found out. Relief that she no longer carried this secret on her own. Then guilt, for forcing this burden on another.

She peered up at his face, and he pressed his lips on her forehead, on the scar that hadn’t been caused by her.

“Are you mad at me?” Carson asked, weakly.

The question made Jax take a breath and uncurl his arms to look directly at her. “No, I’m not mad. I’m horrified that you feel the need to hurt yourself.” He grabbed one of her arms, eyes trailing up and down the scars. Carson’s insides twisted; she wasn’t used to being so exposed. “I feel awful that I didn’t notice it sooner so I could help you sooner.” He rubbed his thumb under one of the white lines.

She put her hand on top of his. “Please don’t say that. This isn’t your fault.”

“Then let me help you through this,” he begged. “You’re going to gethelp. You understand that, right?”

Feeling like she was beyond help, she faltered.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself anymore.”

Now Carson really hesitated. “I don’t know if I can stop.”

As though he understood what she meant, he pondered on her statement before asking, “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where to begin.” Carson stepped back until she was leaning on the bathroom sink.

“Have you tried talking to someone? Like your doctor or anyone?”

“I tried.” She looked at Jax, then down at her bare feet. “After you told me about your drinking, I made an appointment with a therapist. I thought if you could stop drinking, I could stop cutting. I never ended up going, though.” She recalled the blah-building and its blah-colors.

“Why?”

Her shoulders bounced up and down. “I don’t know. I guess I’m not convinced it will help.”

“Then it might be a good place to start.”

Carson stood in a hallway of mirrors. Her naked body reflected back at her in hundreds of different angles. Her ivory skin was bright, beautiful, scarless. Taking a step toward the nearest reflection, she reached out to touch the cold silver. When she drew closer, three scars formed on her abdomen. They were thick and ugly, making her look disfigured.

She hated them. Hated what they were. Hated what they meant.

A blade appeared in her hand. She knew what she had to do to neverhave to look at those three scars again—

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