Page 9 of Lines Drawn
As predicted, Ignacio is still waiting. “I’m going to bed for a bit. You can go in. Jude is staying until someone else comes to trade places with him.” Hesitating, I decide to help the poor guy out a bit. “He’s not wearing his hearing aids because he’s exhausted and needs a break. He can read your lips and has enough residual hearing to understand you if you speak clearly enough, but Soren can interpret if it’s important. Don’t let him inconvenience himself just to make conversation.”
Ignacio scowls. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not an idiot.”
“I’m too tired to care about your feelings. Jude is used to accommodating people rather than the other way around. I’m trying to help you with him.”
He sighs. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“Do you want me to escort you to your room?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. Go be with Roman. I’ll be fine.”
Ignacio studies me for a long moment, but must decide it’s not worth it as he slips into the medical room rather than saying anything else.
Instead of going upstairs to find the room set aside from us, or asking someone, I wander around the house. I’m sure they’re watching me on the cameras, but I couldn’t care less. All that matters is the crushing pressure in my chest and the numbness that’s spread throughout the rest of my body.
I thought I was better. Thought I had beaten my demons back, and sent them to Hell when I killed that bastard, but…the stress, the pain, the utter hopelessness, it’s beaten me down to nothing.
I left one nightmare for another. Only this one gave me false hope that I could be happy. Now…they’re trying to take everything I love away from me.
I don’t know what part of the house I’m in when my knees give out, but I end up on the floor, my back to the wall. Flashes of my time with both Mr. Thommilson and Gerald mix with everything that’s happened since I came into the Amato Family, and suddenly, nothing makes sense except the pain in my wrist from the long-healed scars.
Without conscious thought, I find myself touching the abused flesh. The scars are no longer raised and angry, but their imprint never disappears from my memory. Looking at them, I don’t see what Roman, or Tennant, or Jude, or Emilio see. I don’t see the strength to survive, only my failure to die.
Digging my fingers into the scarred flesh, I let the pain ground me, pushing harder and harder until blood pools, but still that’s not enough. If it wasn’t such a temptation… If I wasn’t such a fucking failure, I’d reach for my knife. Instead, all I can dois dig my fingers in more, watching as the blood slides down my arm, over my fingers, and onto the floor.
Lifting my fingers, I study the damage before pressing them in again, letting the pain of my nails tearing into battered flesh flow through me… Until small, soft hands cover mine. The grip is firm and yet gentle at the same time, and when I look up into shining emerald eyes, something in me breaks.
My vision blurs and my world seems to collapse, as I fall into surprisingly strong arms that hold me tighter than I deserve, but I don’t know how to push the touch away. All I can do is cry, and bleed.
If only it was enough.
Red hot fury slams into me as I hold Hollis in my arms. It chokes me and I struggle against it, against the need to kill. What do I do when there’s nobody to kill? The demons that Hollis faces…fuck. I’ve been there. The way those shadowy bastards consume the mind makes me sick, and seeing it on Hollis’s face?
I want to go back to the warehouse and torture the three men we left alive. Fuck waiting for Tennant. But I can’t. I can’t leave Hollis, and so I stuff down my anger, knowing it’s a selfish feeling. It’s not what he needs.
“Come with me, Angel,” I murmur against his skin, tugging gently while not letting go.
It’s awkward to walk with him in my arms, but I don’t give a fuck. I manage to stay on my feet as we go, only switching to place him by my side when we get to the stairs.
“I’m not a fucking angel,” he manages to say through his sobs. “I’m a failure. Worthless.”
Growling, the pain spikes through me, and when he flinches, I struggle to shove my ball of rage away. It’s not what he requires. I’m adrift in his pain and his needs, confused on how to move forward.
There’s only one person I know who can manage the chaotic thoughts I struggle with, and I hope he can do the same for Hollis. Fuck knows I’m not good enough. Not at handling this, and hell, I’m not nearly good enough for him. Not that it’ll stop me from being his.
“You’re not worthless. You’re my Angel. My…Sir.” I swallow hard at putting the word out there, especially without talking to Master about it. I can only hope he’ll understand. “Now, come with me. Please.”
My quiet entreaty must break through his pain, and he follows me silently. Part of that pisses me off. That stillness isn’t normal for him. It’s as if his light has gone out, and I have no fucking clue what to do. It scares me, and that…that I don’t know how to handle. I desperately want to wrap him up in my arms, and refuse to let him go anywhere that may hurt him, but I can’t smother him. And hell, I don’t even understand why I feel this way.
“Don’t you dare pity me,” Hollis warns me, his voice dropping low, and I almost sigh in relief. That anger is far better than what I stumbled on.
Shaking my head, I hurry him along. “Never, Angel. Never. We both know what it’s like to dance with demons. The fact they’re in our minds means nothing. They’re still real.”
I open the door to mine and Master’s bedroom, breathing in relief at the sight of Master. If anyone can help, it’s him. He’s the other half of my soul, and the only one I know strong enough to stand up to the shadows. I hope he’ll do the same for Hollis.
I’m not sure how Hollis managed to get a piece of my heart. It’s…weird. And uncomfortable. Gritting my teeth, I ignore it. Master will help me with that later. After we take care of my Angel.
