Page 187 of Vicious Saint
They flash before me like bolts of lightning.
You really think Hendrix should trust you?
Want to be with you?
“Shut up,” I growl.
She hasn’t even seen the worst parts of you yet.
The atrocities you’re capable of.
“I’d never fucking hurt her.”
You said the same thing about someone else.
The storm rages on with the first roll of thunder.
Crack.
The walls in my mind shake.
Words are like splinters on my tongue when I beg him to stop.
To let me be free.
A small, lifeless body appears before me on the floor.
Black eyes, swollen cheeks, busted lips.
Crack.
“No…” I shake my head. “Please.”
Don’t bring me back there.
I’m rocky on my feet as I make my way to the sink, hand digging into my pocket to find my Motrin bottle. The room spins as I pop it open, swallowing a pill dry before shoving it back where it came from.
I stare long and hard in the mirror, repulsed by the person looking back at me.
No, themonster.
Because that’s what I am, everyone around me knows it.
No matter how hard I try to hide. Change.
Fix the things I break.
Nothing I do is right, or enough.
And I was fucking stupid to believe it would be for Hendrix.
A roar booms from the pit of my stomach, and I launch my fist into the glass, sending dozens of cracks to shoot out the center, leaving me defenseless as I face every broken version of myself.
“I fucking hate you,” I snarl at each of them.
“Hey, big bro…” Theory’s voice is subtle, and for a second I think I’m still hallucinating. “What’s goin’ on?”
The broken organ in my chest twists, making it impossible to turn and face her. Let her see me like this again.
