Page 88 of Bleed for Me

Blowing out a breath, I crossed my room and lowered myself on the edge of the mattress. My chest was heavy with regret, with guilt, with anger, with resentment. I’d never felt so alone before. Dr. Blake told me that I would most likely be able to leave soon, and at the time, it had been the highlight of my week; the thing that kept me moving forward. But there was nothing waiting for me out there. I’d probably have to retake sophomore year of college, and by now, everything I’d done would be on the news. I’d have to take online classes or go to a smaller, more remote college, and hope that even they’d accept me after this.

Seven needed to pay for what he did. It wasn’t like I had much going for me anymore, and Archer fighting him on my behalf gave me hope thatmaybehe’d choose me and wouldn’t interfere. Archer wouldn’t let Seven kill me, that much I was sure of. Still, the mere thought of pissing him off sent a cold chill down my spine. He could be ruthless at the best of times, and I wasn’t eager to see how much worse it got once he finally snapped and lost his shit.

I released a heavy sigh, heat building behind my eyes due to everything that had been going up in flames within my life lately.

It felt like my life was practically over. My mom couldn’t stand the sight of me—not that I blamed her. I’d probably feel similarly if I were in her shoes. My little sister was dead becauseof me. That was something I’d carry with me for the rest of my pathetic existence. At night, I could still see Gentry’s cold, detached eyes searing through my own. I could still smell the alcohol on his breath as he pinned me to the ground. Even in my own memory, my voice sounded distant. My pleas for Daisy to run falling on deaf ears. I told her to run, and she didn’t. Why couldn’t she just listen to me? If she had, she’d still be alive.

A hot tear trickled down the side of my face, agony punching through my body until it was consuming me entirely. I dropped my face into my hands, my shoulders shaking as choked sobs rumbled through my chest. I did what I could. Itriedto save her, to protect her. It wasn’t enough. It was never fucking enough.

I’d lost everything now. The one thing in my life that made me feel remotely good were Archer’s hands on my body, and the way he could make me come unglued with a single touch. It was stupid and shallow, but it wassomething. Something I had no business clinging to. He was a monster. It was stupid getting involved with anyone here. Logically, I knew that.

Why couldn’t my body get the message?

TWENTY-FOUR

VALENTINE

My mother’s hair was tugged into her usual sleek bun she tended to sport for all occasions. A glass of wine resting in hand as she lounged in one of her wooden chairs. She gave me a dismissive onceover as soon as she saw me, clearly still angry with me for missing our last get-together. Sighing, I moved to sink down into the seat adjacent to her.

A nice, warm breeze swept over me, and I followed her gaze toward the pond at the far end of her property. Ripples shot through the water, creating a small current in its wake.

“The weather is nice today,” she commented, bringing the glass of wine to her lips and taking a small swallow.

“It is,” I agreed.

Her lips were drawn tight, and the dark circles beneath her eyes were indication enough that she hadn’t been sleeping all that well. In truth, neither had I. All I could think about was pressing up against Rosalie’s soft, curvy body. It was something that should never have occurred. I knew that drinking at the asylum was idiotic at best, but still thought it was a better alternative than bringing the liquor home with me. The girlwas gorgeous, but completely off-limits. This celibacy thing was turning out to be a real pain in the ass—not to mention the fact that she was a psychiatric patient.

Sighing, my shoulders dropped with defeat. “Do you have anything stronger than red wine?” I asked, motioning to her glass.

My mom raised her eyebrows in surprise. She’d been trying to get me to take her clubbing for a while, but who the hell goes clubbing with their mother? I always waved it off, telling her that I couldn’t drink so there was no point. Which was true. I’d remained sober until recently. The shit with Jordan was getting under my skin more than I cared to admit, and the stress of being alone only added to that.

“I think I’ve got a bottle of Jack in the kitchen,” she offered.

“Maybe in a bit.”

She arched a dark eyebrow. “You gonna tell me when you started drinkin again?”

Blowing out a breath, I looked out at the pond again. “Not much to tell. I had a few drinks the other day. That’s all.”

She stared at me for a long moment before humming thoughtfully to herself. “Very well. Keep your secrets.” She tapped her nails against the table positioned between us. “How’s Jordan doing? You talk to him recently?”

My blood heated at the mere mention of his name. I knew coming here would inevitably bring up that conversation, but I could only avoid this woman for so long. She could hold a grudge, and it was bad enough that I’d already missed our last visit. According to her anyway.

“Asylum life suits him.” My lips pressed tightly together as I grit my teeth, trying to refrain from badmouthing him to my mom. She adored the piece of shit for reasons I didn’t understand, and she was also the biggest gossip I knew.

My mother rolled her eyes. “Agree to disagree.” She reached for her pack of cigarettes on the table and tugged one out before placing it between her cracked lips. My nose scrunched up with distaste when she lit it, the smoke billowing around us instantly in thick plumes. The stench was almost suffocating. “I’m thinkin of visiting him for his visitation. When’s the last time anyone even bothered?”

My teeth scraped together, and I quickly glanced away. The urge to raid her kitchen, and down that entire bottle of Jack was sickeningly strong. She knew how I felt about mycousin. She knew what he fucking did. How could she sit here and talk about seeing him? She’d never been subtle about how she felt for my father, but there were still some lines a person shouldn’t cross—this was one of them.

“Why would you want to do something like that?” I asked, not bothering to hide the bite to my tone.

She gave me an incredulous look. “You’re kiddin’ me, right?” she demanded in her thick, southern accent. “He’s family. I’d do the same for you if you’d been the one who?—”

“This was a mistake.” I huffed, a surge of anger trickling through my veins. I needed to get the hell away from here before I said something that couldn’t be taken back.

My mom rolled her eyes as I stood. “No surprise there. Just like your good for nothin father. Always runnin when somethin don’t go your way.” A scoff fluttered past her lips. “I didn’t raise you to be so simple minded.”

White-hot rage burned through me, eliciting a fire deep in my gut that spread through my body like wildfire. “No,” I snarled in agreement. “You raised me to turn the other cheek.” I scoffed. “And you wonder why everyone waltzed all over you. You’re pathetic. Don’t call me again.”

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