Page 78 of Bake the Town Red

“I’m going.”

“No.” The hands that killed a person earlier this evening cling to my biceps. “You’re not going, asshole.”

Tearing myself from her hurts more than the scratches she left on my cheek. More than when she kicked my shin. Stomped on my foot.

What I’m about to say to her will hurt a million times worse.

“I’m going,” I repeat. “I warned you, Dahlia. I said I might leave.”

“Fine.” Her voice is flat. Eyes hollow. Her fingers release their grip on me, and she whips her head to the side. “Since you want it so bad, do it. Leave.”

Anything other than getting up will make me stay where I am. Spend the night. Risk another wave of anxiety, a stronger one than this. I’ll say things I wouldn’t be able to take back. I’ll hurt her by trying to protect her in all the wrong ways.

My Dahlia.

Nothing to do but get up and pull on my clothes. Head to the door.

And leave her like that? What the hell was I thinking?

“Idiot.”

I don’t hear her while I stomp to the bathroom. She’s just as quiet when I return, a warm, wet cloth in my hand.

“There you go.” Those are the only words between us as I shove my cum inside her despite myself.

She could be asleep, except her eyes are open while I wipe her hymen blood off her inner thighs. I continue anyway, cleaning her clit, her lips, her pussy.

I had her consent before. Except now it looks like anything but.

“Dahlia.”

“Go away, Tyler.” My name is choked in her throat.

She’s right. I need to get out of here.

Regroup.

Come back for her tomorrow. I’ll force the anxiety down. I’ll fight with my own damn self at home, without dragging her into this mess.

Then, I’ll be able to promise her something better than this. Better than a man whose sanity is tearing at the seams.

The bloodied cloth that smells like her pussy goes inside the pocket of my jeans. I spin, walking out the door for real this time.

Two steps into the hallway and I hear it.

Sobs. Growls. Something’s crashing. Sounds like glass breaking.

Just like the other times I heard her scream and cry in here, my heart crumples. My soul is crushed.

Her pain is mine. Her pain is burning me alive.

This is the worst. Without a doubt, this is the lowest I’ve ever been.

Because her pain is on me. All. On. Me.

The distance to her door is obliterated in less than a second, and I’m back inside.

“Go away,” is the bark I get when I kick my boots off.

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