Page 64 of Jackson
I fucking hated my mum, I hated her for dying, I hated her for leaving me with him, I hated her for not terminating me. I hated her for refusing the C-section. I hated my father for his years of abuse, for his torment and vicious words. I loved my daddy for giving me his blade; he must have loved me to do that, mustn’the?
“Jackson.” It was a man’svoice.
I grabbed his hair and dragged him to the side of the diner. I forced him face down on the hood of a car and stood behind him, readying myself. I heard a scream, a womanscream.
“It’s okay, he knows what to do,” I said to no one in particular, as I unzipped my jeans and pulled out mycock.
He was ready for me; he was always ready. Honey wasn’t my onlyoutlet.
I felt a punch to the side of my jaw; it knocked me from my feet. I landed heavily on my back. The wind was knocked from my lungs and I struggled to get my breath. My sight was blurry and there was a ringing in my head, but in the distance I could hearsobs.
“Summer?” I called out. I could hearher.
It took a moment for my vision to come into focus. She was being held by D-J, she was sobbing into his chest. Her ponytail, usually so neat, was a mess. I scrambled to myfeet.
“What the fuck happened?” Ishouted.
“You happened, dude. Stay there, Dex is on his way. And put your fucking cockaway.”
“What do you mean, I happened?” I fumbled to do up my jeans, not fully understanding why they wereundone.
“Stay there, Jackson,” he repeated. He held his hand out to keep me at arm’slength.
I watched her bury her face in D-J’s chest; she curled her arms under her chest as if she was trying to crawl inside him. He tightened his grip on her; he turned slightly so she was shielded fromme.
“Summer? What happened?” I was shouting again. A crowd had formed outside thediner.
“Someone called the police, Jack, we need to get out of here,” Iheard.
I saw Dexter’s hand on my arm. When the fuck had hearrived?
I was bundled into his car, all the while looking over my shoulder and calling out to her. I was confused. Where was Honey? We had just had breakfast, hadn’t we? Why was Summercrying?
We drove the short distance to the bar. “Safe room, now,” Dex said. I duly followed his order, without any understanding ofwhy.
I sat on the bed and waited for him. I struggled to think, to slow down the rush of images in my brain. I couldn’t focus. I stood and paced; I sat again. Dread and fear began to settle in my stomach. My skin itched and I scratched at my cuts. I eyed the drawer, my drawer. I strode over and tugged at the handles, I kicked it in frustration when it wouldn’t open. My blood pumped faster around my body, my heart raced as adrenalin flooded through me. I began to mumble to myself. I looked around the room and smiled at a framed picture on thewall.
“Silly, fucking silly, Dexter,” I saidquietly.
I dragged it from the wall and slammed it to the floor. The glass frame shattered, it was the most satisfying sound I’d heard. I knelt, sifting through the pieces until I found the perfect one. I held it in my hand, closing my palm around it so tightly, and watched the blood seep through my fingers and drip to thefloor.
I stood and raised my t-shirt. I sunk the piece of glass into my flesh and dragged it down my stomach. The relief that washed over me was like I imagined a first hit of heroin to be. The noise in my head quietened, the tension in my body lessened. I floated as warm liquid rolled over my skin, over myfingers.
Before I could make the second cut, something akin to a bulldozer drove me from my feet. I smacked my head on the floor and that was the last thing Iremembered.
