Page 46 of Knot Like Other Girls

Bella.

The thought of her hits me like a punch to the gut.

Her green eyes, wide with surprise when she first saw me. The soft smile she offered in spite of my face, before I ruined it by being... well, me.

She probably thinks I hate her.

It's better that way.

Better she stay far, far away from the broken, scarred mess that I am.

But God, her scent. Even through the artificial stench Worthington pumps through his penthouse, I could smell her.

She smelled like home.

No. I can't think like that.

Can't let myself hope, not again.

Not after...

A group of teenagers rounds the corner, their laughter cutting off abruptly as they catch sight of me. I hear their whispers, see the way they nudge each other and point.

Their laughter follows me as I push past them, my hands clenched into fists, making my palms sting. Especially the scarred one. It's more sensitive than the other. At least the painhelps keep me from putting my fist through someone's face. From making them look like me for a few days.

The pressure builds inside me, a volcano of rage and self-loathing ready to erupt. I need to hit something, to destroy something, to feel something other than this crushing despair.

My eyes land on a narrow alley between two buildings. Without thinking, I duck into it, the shadows swallowing me up. It's not high enough, not dark enough, but it'll have to do.

With a roar of frustration, I slam my fist into the brick wall. Pain explodes across my knuckles, but I welcome it. It's real. It's something I can control.

I hit the wall again. And again. And again.

Blood smears across the bricks, but I don't care. I can't stop. If I stop, I'll have to think, and if I think...

"Hey!"

Troy's voice cuts through the red haze of my rage. I whirl around, chest heaving, to find him standing at the mouth of the alley. His blue eyes are wide with concern, his hands held up in a placating gesture.

Did they fucking track me here?

"What's going on, Cole?" he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

I bare my teeth at him, a low growl rumbling in my chest. "Go away, Troy."

But he doesn't.

Of course he doesn't.

Troy's never known when to back down.

He takes a step forward, and something in me snaps. Before I can think, I'm lunging at him, my bloodied fist connecting with his jaw.

Troy staggers back, more surprised than hurt. "What the fuck, man?"

But I'm beyond words now. All the rage, all the self-hatred, all the pain I've been carrying... it all comes pouring out in a flood of violence.

I swing at Troy again, but this time he's ready. He blocks my punch and counters with one of his own, catching me in the side of the head, splitting my scarred eyebrow.

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