Page 72 of Ruthless God

It was all in my head because I didn’t want to come to grips with the fact that I killed my best friend—that I’m responsible for the car accident. I’ve never had a bad trip when taking drugs before. I’ve never experienced hallucinations. I don’t remember anything about the car accident. Maybe I’m losing my mind.

I killed my best friend.

It’s all my fault.

There isn’t any excuse for my actions. I let everyone around me down, and I need to pay for what I’ve done. I’m glad of Snow’s wrath, because I deserved it.

His mother wouldn’t be depressed, trying to kill herself.

My parents wouldn’t have to look at a fuckup.

I step out of the tub, grab my cotton towel, and wrap it around my body as I glance at myself in the mirror. I look at the broken girl who wants to feel something other than empty and numb.

I need to cut myself. I need to make this pain go away, so I tear the plastic wrapper, remove the fresh blade, and slice the inside of my thigh. I feel pure euphoria and relief, so I do it again. I slice my tender flesh, watching the bright red blood drip down onto the white tile floor. It feels so good to redirect my pain, to relieve myself from the anger, the guilt, and rage that I feel. It feels as if all of my emotions are draining out of me, along with my sins.

But this is temporary. This feeling of ecstasy, of relief, will only last as long as I continue to cut myself. I’m trying to catch a high that I will never reach and every time I cut myself, the wound has to get deeper and deeper.

The door flies open and Snow strides in.

“What do you…” He trails off, his eyes dropping down to the blade in my hand, then the blood on the floor.

Shame covers me like a cozy blanket, so I toss the blade into the sink and turn the faucet on to clean it off. Staring at him through the mirror, I notice he doesn’t take his eyes off me. I expect disappointment to shine in his mismatched eyes, but it doesn’t show. His face is blank.

“What did I tell you about what’s going to happen if I catch you cutting yourself?” His tone is firm, smooth like expensive bourbon.

Tears rush down my cheeks, and I don’t even realize I’m crying until I dart out my tongue and lick my lips, tasting the salty drops.

“Please leave me alone. I don’t need a fucking lecture.”

He doesn’t respond, only pulling me into his arms, kissing my forehead, resting his chin on the top of my head. We stay glued to each other for several seconds, but it feels like forever.

When I pull away, I wrap my arms around my chest, ignoring the agony of pain from my wounds.

“I destroyed our lives. I… I… Bailey… How could I be so stupid? June… he was right up under my nose, and I didn’t find it weird that he was into me. Or he was being too nice to me.”

I couldn’t believe it when Snow told me he was Bailey’s boyfriend; he was smiling in my face as if he didn’t even know who she was. God, I was so fucking stupid. It explains why he was hell-bent on trying to get close to me, even when Snow threatened him to stay away from me. I figured he didn’t value his life, or he was just fearless.

Snow ignores me, takes the blade from the sink, and slices his forearm. The bright red blood decorates his tan skin, dripping onto the counter. Shaking my head, I grab a cotton towel and wrap it around his forearm.

“Snow, why would you do that? Don’t harm yourself because of me!” I yell.

“I meant every word—if you bleed, I bleed, Blue.”

I thought he was only saying that to get me to stop. He studies my inner thigh and counts how many times I sliced myself, then he proceeds to cut his arm two more times.

Tears well in my eyes as more blood drips. At least the cuts aren’t too deep to the point he needs stitches. I snatch the blade away and toss it into the trash can.

“You’re a stupid man,” I yell at him. “I don’t like to see you hurt.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

I wipe the tears with the back of my hand. “Fine. I won’t cut myself again. Just please stop hurting yourself because of me. I’m not worth it.”

He cups my face, stroking his thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re worthy of me to bleed for, Blue. You’re worth the pain I inflict on myself.”

His words turn me into a puddle of goo.

We stare at each other in silence for several seconds before Snow disappears from the bathroom. He comes back with a pair of handcuffs and secures them on my wrists, the silver metal digging into my flesh, drawing pain. He removes the towel from my body, tossing it to the floor.

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