I’m staring up at him, frozen, turned on, and terrified as he manhandles me. I find myself subconsciously arching into his touch before I can stop myself.
“You came here dressed like a cheap whore so why shouldn’t I treat you like one?” He taunts, his grip on my waist bruising.
I violently rip myself out of his hold, losing a few hairs in the process and stomp away from him, ignoring the pain in my scalp.
I don’t get ten feet away before I hear an angry ‘fuck’, followed by loud, dominant steps stalking after me as I flee for the tree line, my only priority getting away from him.
“Is that it, you’re just walking away?” He jeers with a mocking laugh, “What happened to the girl who put up a fight this week? She at least made this game more interesting.”
I turn on him, stopping him in his tracks as I shove his chest with both hands. “This isn’t a game, this is mylife.”
Before I understand what happens, I’m face down in the dirt with my arms bent behind me and Phoenix’s knee digging into my lower back.
He’s not gentle, his knee applying so much pressure into my spine that I feel like I’m one deep breath away from accidentally snapping it in two.
“Think twice before putting your hands on me again,” He says, his voice chillingly pleasant as he shoves my head down into the dirt.
“Let me go,” I demand, my voice shaking with fright and exhilaration.
“Beg.”
“Please,” I ask, accidentally inhaling dirt into my nose, “Let me go.”
He releases me and flips me onto my back, pinning my wrists next to my face with his hands. He looks down at me with an unreadable look on his face, somewhere between fascination and fixation, and I have a flashback to when we used to play hide and seek in the forest behind our houses.
I wonder if he remembers.
I watch as his eyes catch on something and then he flattens my arm to the ground to take a closer look at it.
His thumb rubs over a section of my skin as if trying to remove something there. I know exactly what he’s just discovered and my heart is in my throat as I look up into his face, but he keeps his eyes trained intently on my skin.
“What is this?” He demands.
“You know what it is,” I whisper, “It’s a tattoo–,”
“Of a ladybug.” Phoenix interrupts, his voice toneless.
I nod and my heart is thrashing so loudly in my veins that I’m afraid I won’t hear him when he speaks.
It was one of two ‘fuck it’ decisions I made with Nera over the summer. Termed ‘fuck it’ because it’s very unlike me to do something so rash and unresearched, especially with a decision as permanent as this one.
We were in London and strolled past a tattoo shop when Nera suggested we walk in. I hesitated a few seconds then said yes, much to her delighted surprise.
I’d walked out with a nail sized, black and white fine line tattoo of a ladybug on my wrist. The style was artsy and the detailing lifelike, and I was thrilled with it.Astor still holds the same place in my heart that he did when we were kids, and I wanted to immortalize him as a part of me.
“When did you get this?” He questions, his shoulders tense.
“Two months ago,”
His jaw twitches and his hands grip my wrists so brutally that I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
“There was a time I would have chased you around this forest and you’d have loved it,” he snarls. Jokes on him, if the pang in my stomach at the mention of it is anything to go by, I’d still love it now. “But I don’t give a fuck about you anymore. Somehow you have everyone around you fooled with your good girl act. They get lured in by your fake kindness and faker smiles and they don’t see the real you. The heartless, soul sucking traitor that’s hiding underneath.” He pushes off me and stands, looking down at my prone body with contempt etched on his face. “Don’t fucking come back here unless you want to get hurt.” With that, he’s gone, his body folding into the night with ease.
Tears roll out of the corners of my eyes and down the sides of my face as I sit up and rub them away.
No one knows how to hurt me like he does. He’s effortless with it, his aim true and surgical.
I’d hoped he’d have a better reaction to the tattoo. I thought he’d see how dedicated I was to Astor’s memory, to keeping it alive for the few of us who knew him and those who were robbed of ever knowing him.