Page 73 of Monster
Essa
Present
My entire bodylocks up at his words and fear coats every inch of my skin. But more than the fear I feel, is the sudden burst of arousal.
Damnit. Why do I have to be so fucked up?
“Wha— What do you mean?” My voice trembles as I speak and I fucking hate it.
“You really have to ask me that?” Vincent chuckles as he shakes his head. “Such a shame, baby. I thought you knew me better than that.”
Okay, now I’m really fucking scared. If I thought Vincent was hot and cold before, I was so fucking wrong. He is so damn confusing. He makes me feel like I don’t even know the difference between left and right or up and down when he acts like this.
“I feel like playing another game…” he trails off. He stands up and with me standing directly in front of him, I’m forced to take a step back. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back to him. My naked chest presses against his clothed one and I want nothing more than to feel his skin against mine again. I move to do just that.
With a sudden burst of confidence, I rake my fingers down his abdomen until I reach the hem of his sweatshirt. Gripping the material, I begin to pull it up but Vincent’s iron grip locks around my fragile wrists, stopping me.
“No.”
My brows draw together in my confusion, and I peer up at him.What the hell? Why do I feel so fucking rejected right now.
He releases me and I quickly drop my hands and take a step away from him. And another, until I’m eventually across the fucking room. But it is still too close. Rejection and hurt settle in the pit of my stomach, festering and growing. Why the fuck I feel this way, I have absolutely no fucking clue, but I can’t seem to make it stop. My entire body itches with the need to make it all go away—this feeling I get. Like I am not good enough. I fucking hate it and for the last almost five months, I haven’t felt like this—because of Dom. But of fucking course Vincent would be the one to bring this feeling back full fucking force.
Before I even think about what I’m doing, I’m running into the bathroom and slamming it shut behind me. I quickly turn the lock—a lot of good it will do me—and move to the toilet and plop my ass down. The door that is there now is a different door than the original one. That one had to be replaced, courtesy of Vincent knocking it down like the goddamn hulk, and if the roar I hear on the other side is any indication, the very same thing is about to happen again.
I close my eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I know now I’m sitting here, what I did is going to piss him off even more than me destroying my bedroom, but it is like I can’t help it. There is something broken inside of me. Something I don’t know how to fix and as much as I wish being with Dominik for six months fixed me, it didn’t.
With Dominik, I was able to successfully hide. But I was never fully me when I was with him. I was someone else. I was pretending. And now I am back with Vincent, I can finally recognize that. Vincent brings out the deepest and darkest parts of me. The parts of me I hate. That I fuckingloathe.And yet, he doesn’t look at me with disgust when he sees those parts. He glares at me with anger and malicious intent, but I don’t think he would ever kill me. He’s too fucking obsessed with me.
“Essa!” he roars right outside of the door. I flinch but remain seated. “I will give you one damn chance to come open this fucking door because I swear, if you make me break another one of my doors, I will bury you in my fucking yard, along with all of the charred bones already out there.”
My eyes widen but I’m not surprised—not really. I mean, I saw him covered in blood while he was in the middle of fucking murdering someone, for fuck’s sake. I tremble as I sit on the toilet but jump to my feet when I hear a deafening bang against the wood.
“Essaaa,” Vincent drawls and goosebumps slither across my skin like a snake. I run over to the mirror and vanity and glance around frantically, desperate to find something I can use against him—to defend myself. I really fucking think he’ll kill me and some how, some way, I have to be prepared for the worst—just like last time.
I jump out of my skin when I hear a scratch crawling along the door. The sound travels down the length of the door and my body begins to shake. I played right into his fucking hands. He said he wanted to play, and I ran. Now, he gets the thrill of the chaseandthe fucking capture because I am a fucking idiot.
Something loud crashes against the door and I hear the wood splinter and crack from the force of it.
Fuck!
I fling my gaze around the room and my eyes land on myself in the reflection of the mirror. A new mirror—because I broke the other. That’s how I got my most meaningful scar. I glance down at my right arm and “CREEP” stares back at me. Big, bold, scarred, and somewhat distorted from my newest one running through it. As much as I wish I wasn’t, all I am and all I ever will be is a fucking Creep. Cold. Detached. Utterly fucking broken with no hope of redemption.
I don’t realize tears are falling until they splash against the cold marble of the sink below me. Everything around me turns to white noise as the pain takes over. It is all too fucking much, and I can’t fight it. I glance up and lock eyes on the girl in front of me. A girl I thought was better. A girl I thought was different—but no. I’m the same fucking girl I have always been. A scream tears through my throat as I throw both of my arms forward. Glass shatters around me and flies in a million different directions. My hands instantly ache from the impact, and I can feel multiple slivers of glass imbed in my hands and arms, but I don’t care.Ican’tcare.
In fact, it spurs me on. As my sobs wrack my body, and screams tear from my already hoarse throat, I keep swinging my arms out. I repeatedly hit the mirror in front of me, fucking mocking me, until all that’s left is an empty frame.
When there is nothing left of the mirror, I aimlessly swing around, connecting my fists with anything and everything around me. My eyes are blurry with my tears and my eyes are so swollen, I can barely open them. Pain shoots up both of my arms with every connection I make to something, but it only makes me scream and hit harder.
Suddenly, two burning hot arms wrap around me from behind and I’m pulled into a body. A body so fucking hot, I feel like I’m burning alive. I continue to scream, and flail around, trying to get out of his grip, but it’s useless. His arms only lock tighter around me and that’s when I realize I can feel him. His skin. Against mine. So hot, making me realize how cold I truly am and the only time I ever feel an ounce of warmth is when he touches me.
“Essa, baby,” Vincent murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing against me as he speaks. His words cause reality to come crashing back and I shove away from him.
“No!” My actions must have startled him because I slip from his grip easily enough. “You don’t get to do that. You can’t use your words and your fucking body to make me submit to you!” I scream. My eyes burn with tears, but I keep shaking my head, hoping to rid myself of everything around me. It’s all too much.
My baby.
Holley.
