Page 13 of Word to the Wise

Everything got twisted.

Carter hugs me tighter, and I count the seconds with my throbbing headache. Not that time will help. Comfort won’t. His words won’t.

Every time he touches me lately, all I do is hurt. I’m not sure I’m capable of feeling pleasure anymore when he’s inflicted so much pain.

“I love you, baby,” Carter whispers against the back of my head, sounding halfway asleep.

Sinking into his dreams like he isn’t the key to my nightmares.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll believe it.

The smell of coffee filters into my senses, and I open my eyes. The feel of Carter wrapped around me is still present, even if I’m awake now. My cheeks are soaked in tears, telling me I’ve been crying in my sleep again.

It doesn’t matter that I finally ran; I stayed too long. I might never be able to completely escape him.

I wipe my wet lashes and try to remember what it felt like to feel loved. To feel good. To feel anything more than the ashes Carter reduced my heart to.

Rolling over, I curl the blanket up to my chin and glance at the doorway.

The apartment still smells like Lyla’s incense, even if she moved out, and it’s comforting. It’s familiar.

I hope Mason doesn’t mind me staying here because I can barely handle waking up in general, much less opening my eyes to be met with the Twisted Kings clubhouse.

It doesn’t matter how much my brother’s turned that place around; it reminds me of the girl I’m not anymore. A girl who still had a backbone. A girl who met and fell in love with a monster.

The compound is a reminder of all the ways I’ve failed myself and my family.

The sound of dishes clattering and the coffee pot sputtering comes from the kitchen. Mason must be in there getting ready to start his day. The walls are paper thin in this place, and that’s strangely relaxing because it means there are no surprises.

It’s one of the reasons I slept with the door open. Part of me expected Carter to show up in the middle of thenight and drag me back. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to leave, but it is the first time I’ve made it out of San Francisco.

I pull the blanket up tighter to my chin.

Maybe if I stay in bed, I won’t have to face this knot tightening in my chest. Carter will forget and move on. If I stay here long enough, maybe I can cease to exist. I might as well already.

If it weren’t for Lyla coming over today to check on me, I’d roll back over and try to sleep some more. I don’t like people fussing over me. I’m not their problem when I put myself in this situation.

I’ve survived this long on my own.

But if Lyla shows up and I’m still in bed, she’ll just worry more. So I manage to climb out and skirt the corner into the bathroom without Mason seeing me.

The moment the door locks, I turn to the mirror, and I take a deep breath. I do what I’m good at—I bury the ugly parts no one wants to see.

They’d prefer pretty, happy, smiling Reed.

So I dig her out. I put on her face—her strength.

Wrapping my hair up in a bun, I let a few pieces fall around the sides of my face to cover what they can. I didn’t bring anything with me, so there’s no makeup to hide the bruises. My eye socket is darkening, and Carter’s backhand was hard enough to burst a blood vessel, turning part of the white of my eye red.

The cut on my lip has crusted over with blood, and it’s disgusting.

If Carter saw me like this, he might be tempted to beat me again for allowing myself to be unappealing to him.

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