Page 64 of Promises in the Dark

I must’ve scared the living shit out of her.

Red flinched away from me, a look of pure fear in her eyes. “Don’t touch me!” she hissed, rubbing her neck.

My heart dropped to my feet.

She scooted away from me as fast as she could, her body pressed against the wall like she was trying to disappear into it. Her eyes were wide with terror, her breathing fast and shallow.

“Sorry,” I said, taking a step back, feeling like the lowest piece of shit on earth.

The realization of what I had done hit me like an enraged bull, slamming into my chest with a force that left me breathless. I never wanted this, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done, and I had turned into the exact thing I hated most. I was no better than my old man.

Just like him. A fucking monster.

Red took a deep breath, her chest heaving like she’d just sprinted a mile. She moved even further away, eyes flicking to the door, like she couldn’t stand to be anywhere near me.

“Say something. Anything,” I pleaded in a tight, restrained voice, my face drawn and tense as I waited for her reply.

But her mind seemed to be a million miles away, a world away, a fucking universe away.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked, her words quiet and trembling.

“I need to know that you’re okay,” I replied, my eyes raking over her, searching for any signs of damage I might’ve caused. “That I didn’t hurt you too badly.”

I glanced over at her, her body draped in nothing but my t-shirt, and fuck, she looked sexy as hell. The way her body had responded to mine, the way she had trembled in pleasure, it had been fucking incredible.

I could still smell her on me.

But now, that same body trembled for a whole different reason, and it was all on me. I could see the fear in her eyes, the way she was eyeing the door like it was her only escape.

Fuck me.I hated myself for that.

“I am not hurt,” she said, gesturing at the shattered remains on the floor, “because I hit you with the lamp.”

My head was pounding like a drum, and I could feel the warm, sticky liquid trickling down my temple. I looked down and made eye contact with the jagged pieces of the lamp, my mind finally putting it all together—this was where my pain was coming from.

Well, fuck, the lamp took one for the team.

“Rogue, you need help,” Red claimed, as if she were reading from a script. “This isn’t normal.”

I didn’t want to hear it. I was angry and embarrassed. She just looked at me with those pitying eyes, like I was some kind of charity case and I couldn’t stand it.

Oh, hell no, sweetheart. We’re not doing this.

I felt weak. I felt exposed. And I hated it.

I stormed over to the liquor cabinet and yanked open the door, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. I poured myself a full glass, not giving a shit that some of it sloshed over the rim and stained the counter.

“I’m not drunk enough for this shit,” I said, taking a swig.

“This isn’t the first time, is it?” Red’s voice came from behind me. “When did it start?”

I spun around to face her, my fingers tightening around my glass.

“When did what start? My drinking? Or my not wanting to hear your goddamn nagging?” I spat out.

“I’m just trying to help,” she said softly, reaching out to touch my arm.

I jerked away, not letting her get close. No way in hell was I going to let her see the mess inside of me. Fuck, I couldn’t even look at her.

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