Page 170 of Sinful Desires
Tears ran down my face, my eyes darting between them, panic rising, disgust curling.
I ran.
Away from them. Away from that room.
I hit the wall on the way out, scraped my shoulder, caught myself before I fell, then stumbled forward. My knees cracked against the stone.
The air outside was wet and rough.
I made it halfway down the stairs before collapsing on the grass, bottles and broken glass crunching under my weight. A pink bra hung next to my cheek. Someone’s lipstick smeared across the stone like blood.
I laughed. Or maybe sobbed. I couldn’t even fucking tell anymore.
I forced myself up. Blood oozed from my knees. I didn’t care. I kept going.
Into the dark.
Into the wild mess I’d made of myself.
“Théo, stop!” My mother’s voice broke behind me, fragile and panicked.
But I didn’t stop.
I tore through the dark, the cold wind biting my face, the grass slick beneath my feet. The only light came from the stars and the fucked-up smile of the moon above me, mocking me.
The rest was shadows. Black, wide, endless.
“Théo, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!” my father yelled.
I could hear him running now, his pounding footsteps trying to catch up.
I’d been hurting for years, dragging it around like rusted chains, and something inside me snapped, sharp and final. I didn’t want to feel it anymore.
I wanted out. Out of the noise in my skull. Out of my skin. Out of the shame curdling in my blood like poison.
And I did the one thing I’d spend the rest of my fucked-up life hating myself for, the one moment I couldn’t erase no matter how deep I buried it.
I ran across the hilltop, feet slipping on wet grass and broken glass, the sea roaring beneath me like a threat or a promise, and without a second thought, I threw myself into the ocean.
Face first. Arms wide.
The moment my body hit the water, it was like the ocean cracked open. A cold, godless mouth swallowing me whole. The current dragged me under so quickly I didn’t have time to scream. Salt burned through my throat. My chest seized. The sky cracked wide above, black and furious, thunder pounding like a war drum. Waves slammed me against jagged rock, my spine bending wrong, ribs bruising, blood leaking from somewhere I couldn’t name.
I tried to breathe and swallowed the sea instead.
And still, for one terrifying second, I felt peace.
Until I heard it.
A scream. Muffled. Warped. Barely there through the rush of water and the roar of the storm.
Then hands. Grabbing. A voice, raw and breaking.
“Théo! I’m here! Try to swim toward me, son, come on!”
My father.
His voice tore through the chaos, cracked something open inside me harder than the rocks ever could.
