Page 145 of Did They Break You

“You know why I waited, Remi?” I ask her, undoing my seatbelt and turning to face her more fully, snatching up the lighter and a cigarette as I do.

She looks down at her thighs. I take in the curve of her cheekbone as I light up, the narrowness of her nose.

Her long lashes, and how my shirt swamps her, but she’s still so fucking beautiful.

I turn my head and exhale, tossing down the lighter.

I keep staring out my cracked window as I start to speak again. “I waited because my life was a shit show,” I admit, my words low. “Because dragging you, so fuckinginnocentand sofuckinggood, into it… seemed like a crime.” I laugh a little with that word, inhaling again, exhaling through my nose, letting the nicotine soothe me.

I turn to her again, see she’s looking out the window, the orange bag of Reese’s still in her lap.

“And with college coming, I was going to get out of my house. Out from underneath my mom—away from all of her bullshit. Hell, I even thought I’d try to find a way for my brother to live with me, because it wasthat bad.”

She stiffens in her seat but doesn’t face me.

“Then everything happened. And this past summer, Tristan… he tried to kill himself because my mom is a cunt.”

I hear her sharp intake of breath, see her turn toward me, her eyes wide.

I keep staring at her as I flick my cigarette out the window, swallowing hard as my fingers curl around the steering wheel, for something to do with my hands. “And I was so, so fucking glad I never brought you around her. She’s poison, and it was enough that she’d gotten to my brother. If she’d gotten to you…” I glance out the windshield. “I’d probably kill her.”

I drop my hands to my lap, running them over my black sweats. “Afterthat night, with you, I thought about hurting myself too. My friends.” I turn to face her. “Chase.”

Her complexion, already so fair, turns white, and I think about murdering Chase all over again.

I grab her arm, tugging it away from her chest, flipping her palm, trailing my index finger over the faintest of white lines, six in a row on her inner arm.

Then more. Newer.Recent.

Her hand starts to tremble.

“You’re not the only one who bled that night, and all the ones after. I almost know why Tristan did it.”

Her eyes widen as she watches my finger brushing over her wounds.

“Felt good, didn’t it?” I whisper, watching her watch me. Remembering what I told her. That it makes me feel alive.

She takes a shaky breath in.

I dip my head, flicking my tongue over her cuts.

I hear her whimper.

“You can tell me, baby.” I press my thumb over one wound, lifting my head to stare down at her.

She winces as I put more pressure over it.

“Tell me you liked it. Tell me seeing yourself bleed wasn’t a high you’ll never get anywhere else? No drugs, no alcohol. Nothing is that euphoric.”

Slowly, she looks up, through those long, dark lashes, her golden eyes on me. “There is one thing,” she whispers.

I tighten my hold on her wrist. “What’s that, baby?”

She stares at me a long moment. Then she says, “You.”

My breath catches as I hold her gaze, then look at where she’s hurt herself. “If that’s true,” I brush my thumb over her cuts, “stop doing this.Let me be it for you.”I swallow hard and stare at her arm. “And I’ve been stalking you since I met you, baby,” I answer her earlier question. “And it’s only going to get worse.”

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