Page 45 of Burning Truths

I want to snap at myself. To face the ghost in the mirror and scream for her to wake up but her eyes are hollow and unfocused. Shifting to look at the pale faced, dull eyed, woman in the glass. Her hands mirror mine lifting to press against the skin under her eyes. Deep blue bruised skin sits under her blankstare. Moving my gaze lower, my eyes fall on the broken skin on her neck where large teeth marks are carved into her.

I’m his forever now.

Her collar bone juts out of her like a knife waiting to cut the hands that try to touch her. Biting the inside of my cheek I turn away from her probing gaze. Looking towards the door to the bathroom I take one small step at a time. Once I’ve made it inside I lean over to twist the water on wincing from the pain shooting down my legs. Between my thighs burns and my eyes water with the response to the pang. Steam starts to float from the shower so I turn and shut the door blocking it inside. Not waiting for the water to cool I step under the spray of hot water letting the heat sting my skin.

Maybe the hot water can boil the stained part of me that I want to cut away with a blade. Dropping my head to the damp tile wall my shoulders tense when the direction of my thoughts head to darker places. Trailing my fingers over the wall I find the broken piece of tile pulling the small triangle shard from its place. Twisting and turning the fragment between my fingers my thoughts start to fade to other places. Darker places where the numbness starts to crawl up my legs to my spine creeping into my chest gradually drowning me.

Jabbing the shard into the wall over and over dust starts to chip away with the force. Teeth dig into my bottom lip breaking the skin but I don’t feel it. I no longer smell him yet I can still feel the way his fingers pressed into my skin so deep that the blood flowing through me rushes to the surface. My chest feels like it’s going to explode with the way my heart is hammering behind my ribcage. My knuckles are sore from picking at the wall and I’m so fucking tired.

They did it. They finally did it and I gave them the key.

My fist slams into the wall, my mouth falls open with an eerie hollow scream, my chest rattling through it. Snatching the soapfrom the side of the tub I pour a large amount into my palm and start to scrub. Arms, legs, neck, stomach, between my thighs. I scrub so long and so hard that my entire body feels raw. Red and sore I shut the water off letting the cold air hit me. Sucking in deep breaths my eyes start to grow fuzzy. It’s a battle to get my mind to move but I manage to get myself moving to grab the towel sitting on the bathroom sink. Wrapping it around my body I let my soaked hair hang down my back not giving a fuck that water is still dripping everywhere. One foot after the other I step out of the tub and onto the floor.

My stomach bubbles again, my mouth filling with saliva, pushing bile up my throat. Heaving I rush for the toilet crashing into the floor on my knees I barely get my head over the toilet when yellow foam spills from my mouth. Empty stomach contents pour from my throat with each heave the pain almost too much. Rubbing my mouth on the back of my hand I steady myself with both palms on the toilet attempting to stand. My nose and eyes burn from the tears that try to spill but I have nothing left to give to this place. These four walls have taken everything I have leaving me empty and alone.

Ignoring the splintered woman in the mirror I pass her heading to the door without giving her a second thought. Pulling the handle steam rushes past me filling the next room. Stepping up to the dresser I search for a sports bra and shorts pulling out a small black top and short green gym shorts. My eyes catch on the tattoo between my breastbone sucking me out of the fog and shoving me into the memory of when I got it. Why I got it. The birds spread wings are covered in bright orange and red flames burning away the phoenix past. Her colorful head is tilted up taking flight, rising from the ashes, growing stronger.

Still staring at the ink etched into my skin I hear soft footsteps coming down the hallway. My hands start to shake causing my heart to beat faster. The handle jiggles. Pulling in adeep breath through my nose my eyes close waiting for him to open the door. The handle twists and the door is slowly pushed open. Two sets of eyes land on me but I don’t move. Sky blue and brown eyes widen when they meet mine, the air in the room suffocating.

They don’t move for five painstakingly long seconds.

“Dear fuck.” She whispers.

My gaze moves from her to him trying to piece together what I’m seeing but his gaze drags me under water.

“Kenna.” He steps forward.

Chapter Twenty

RYKER

“Kenna.” I call her name.

Her hazel eyes and blonde hair match the woman that left me that day but the person standing before me is a ghost. My eyes take in every inch of her that’s changed. Sunken eyes, pale skin, and her weight. She’s lost so much weight her collar bones are standing out even from across the room. The black sports bar is loose on her and the gym shorts hang slightly off her hip bones. Oakley tenses next to me, our shock keeping us from making a move. Dim eyes flick between us but what I see behind them is something I didn’t, couldn’t, predict.

Anger and fear. When my eyes finally zero in on her face after drinking in every single change I start to put more pieces together. Blood boils in my veins when I see the teeth imprinted into her flesh on the side of her neck, my hands fist at my sides, gaze falling to the metal clamped around her throat. A goddamn collar is locked around her like a fucking mutt off the streets and the skin around the edges is raw and swollen.

“Ryker.” Oakley whispers, her stare never leaving Kenna.

She’s telling me to tread carefully, I can hear it in her tone, because my little killer is broken. Holding my hands up I step forward to move closer when I hear several footsteps rushingtowards us. Oakley swings around with her knife in hand but I keep my gaze on Kenna. She hasn’t moved since we stepped into the room like a scared cat cornered. She's frozen in place.

“Dear God.” West breathes behind me. “Hey Princess.”

She flinches at the name, finally moving for the first time. West steps up beside me so I look over my shoulder to see Havoc and Silas. My brows dip in confusion.

“What the fuck is he wearing?” I say under my breath trying to keep from scaring Kenna.

Beside Havoc stands Silas but covering his face is a mask with the face of a snarling wolf. Ignoring the weird shit I tend to see around this group turning to West.

“Where is he?” I ask.

West looks to me from the corner of his eyes then back to her. “He didn’t want to freak her out.” He responds.

Blowing out a gust of air I waive off Havoc and Silas, “Go find G I think he may have something else to handle.”

After they walk off West and Oakley step back giving Kenna space. Her eyes are wide, her lips cracked and bleeding, her teeth currently biting into her bottom one. Moving another foot forward I hold my hands up so she can see my palms are weapon free, showing her that I’m not a threat. Everything inside me fucking burns with the need to snatch her up and drag her into my chest but I hold myself back. It takes maximum fucking effort to hold my mask in place to hide my rage. She starts to pick at her nails walking backwards until she bumps into the dresser.

“Easy, killer.” I murmur.

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