Page 46 of Eye Candy

I let out a breath that was perhaps a bit too calm as I set my left hand on the counter. The sharp edge of the knife hovered over my left pinky. No one would question a girlwho’d lost a piece of her, would they? Something inside me told me to move the knife just a bit, so it would get both my pinky and the finger next to it.

The hand holding onto the knife moved it up, away from the knuckles, stopping at the first joint. Had to hold it diagonally, so it’d sever just above both joints on each finger.

Fuck. Was I really going to do this? Was chopping off the majority of two fingers going to get me in the clear and hide the fact that I hadn’t minded my captivity one bit? My heart sped up, the blood pumping faster in my veins as the answer came to me.

This was the start of my new life. Let’s make it count.

I lifted the knife, not hesitating, not lingering. In a split second I’d brought it down to my hand, cleaving through the two fingers easily due to the force of the knife and its sharp edge.

I couldn’t hide the pain that time. I cried out, the sound that left me more of a whimpering grimace than anything else. Pulling my left hand away from the knife lodge into the cheap countertop, I held it in front of my face, watching the blood fall and coat my hand. The pain took a few moments to arrive, and when it did, it hit me hard.

“Fuck,” I whispered, grinding my teeth together as I went to hold what was left of my two fingers, to staunch the blood flow as much as I could. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” My severed fingers sat on the counter, on the other side of the knife.

Holy shit. I can’t believe I just did that.

Holding onto my hand, I stumbled out of the kitchen, toward the front door. The doubt in me still wondered, though, if this wasn’t enough, so just for good measure, before I went for the handle to get out of this house, I slammed my rightshoulder against the wall in the entryway over and over until the drywall cracked and splintered and I felt something in my shoulder blade jar out of alignment.

Not everyone could hurt themselves like this. I didn’t know what that said about me, if it was a good thing or not. I supposed it didn’t matter. The pain would eventually subside, and I’d return to the world outside.

I could do this.

I had to do this.

Mike’s hazel eyes bore into me, somewhat narrowed. “What are you saying?” The question was whispered, but it sounded like he’d shouted it, the fury laced with those words making me wince.

“I’m saying,” I whispered back, the memory alive and well in my head, “he didn’t do this to me. I did.”

He looked as though he wanted to yell at me, to demand to know what I’d been thinking, why I’d go so far as to hurt myself, to mutilate myself, when I could’ve gotten out without a scratch. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared. A vein popped out in his forehead while he struggled to remain calm.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I added. “If you do, I’ll deny it, and I’m sure I can think of a few things I could tell my dad to discredit anything you say.” A threat, just like I’d threatened Kieran to try to get him to play nice with Mike. I was so out of it that I didn’t even realize how cruel it was, and if I did know, I didn’t care.

All Mike did was shake his head at me, as if he was disappointed in me or something. He said not a single word, turning away from me and grabbing the door handle, practically tearing the entire door off its hinges as he threw it open and stormed out.

I watched him go, my heart racing.

What had I just done?

Chapter Sixteen – Mike

To say I was furious would be a lie. I was so much more than that. Out of everything I’d believed, I’d thought Laina had been through hell these last two years. I’d thought she was a little miracle, having gotten herself out.

But it was a lie. She hadn’t fought her kidnapper to escape. It was an accident, and she’d hurt herself to make a new narrative, to frame it all exactly how she wanted.

I couldn’t believe that girl.

I couldn’t look at her after that, because when I did, I pictured her doing those things to herself, cutting off her own fucking fingers, and I got even more pissed off. At her, for feeling like she had to do it. At her again, for actually going through with it. And even more at her, for lying to everyone about it and not telling the truth.

I didn’t like liars, and I wasn’t appreciative of her threat.

Like I needed this. Like I needed any of this. Lola and Sylvester had given me this job, but fuck it, they could take itback. They could put someone else on the case, not me. I’d done so much in my life, put myself in danger countless of times… and a little girl was the thing that pushed me over the edge. Go figure.

I walked out of the bathroom, to the door. I walked past Kieran’s unmoving form, not so much as sparing him a second glance. He could deal with Laina when he woke up. She wasn’t my problem anymore. I wouldn’t do it.

Stepping out into the hall, Vance and Tessa were deep in a conversation. The doctor was gone, so it was just the two of them. Vance turned toward me, nodding his head once as he said, “Look, I know you’re not working for me, but… Tessa, would you mind grabbing me some coffee?” His way of getting his wife out of here.

Tessa didn’t want to go, I could tell by the way she remained rooted in place for at least twenty seconds, staring daggers at Vance. But, eventually, she relented, muttering, “Yes.” With her head held high, she turned and walked away.

The woman was remarkably fine considering her brother was in there, in a goddamned coma.

---