Page 32 of Game of Hell
“You don’t have to be ashamed of who you are. We are all a little fucked up. Having kinky sex doesn't make you demented.” I almost laugh, but don’t. If she thinks she’s anywhere neardemented then she’s got some fucked up support systems because that’s who would’ve convinced her she is.
“And when we leave here what are we? What do we do?” She whispers as if she’s afraid to hear the answer.
“We do the same we’ve done here.Fuck. Fuck until we see double, until we have kids, until we grow old and die.” I breathe out. This girl will be the death of me.
“Ok.” She walks around me and over to the bed.
I watch her and for the first time I'm confused. Does this mean she’s mine? I rub my temples; tired, hungry, and worst of all, hard as fuck.
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ember
“They bled the same, and that brought them closer.”
A hot tear slides down my cheek, I don’t know why I’m crying but I let them fall anyway.
His words cling to me. I hate the fact that they’re true but the ring of my own words haunts me.I’m wrong.I always chose the wrong paths, the wrong relationships, but he says wrong and right decisions aren't real. That you should listen to your heart.
I spent years after getting kicked out faking every smile, convincing myself that it’s better to be broken by my own hands rather than someone else's. I’ve convinced myself that everything I do is wrong even when I have family telling me it was a mistake. If I convinced myself first then no one else could hurt me.
In here with him, in these searing red lights with no way out, I feel exposed. It should be warmth and stability that makes me feel comfortable but it's the sharp, cold presence of his that gnaws at my skin—leaving behind goosebumps I can’t get rid of. It’s like standing before a god and knowing he can see every bad quality about you.
For once I feel like I can finally hand the knife to someone else. To have them dig into my skin and rid the burden from my hands.
I look up at him through wet lashes. The silence starts to become unbearable and not because of awkwardness but because of him. His looming frame across from me, leanedagainst the table. His eyes are on me but his expression is unreadable. The way he presents himself pisses me off, like he’s untouchable and has everything under control all the time.
I dig my nails into my palms and my mouth opens before I can process what I'm asking him, not caring if he mocks me.
“Do you ever feel breakable? Sometimes I think I came out wrong, like I can never be fixed.” I mumble the words and immediately regret them.
His head tilts slightly and his grey eyes settle on the way my lip trembles with each breath.
“No.” His laugh is quiet, throaty. “It seems you’ve decided the crime scene is your own reflection. That’s dumb.”
A low ache forms in the pit of my stomach and twists with a deadly crack. His tone is cold and a slight taunt sits beneath it.
“That’s cruel, Ronan.” My voice is soft, breakable.
He laughs and steps closer to me. I feel smaller with each step he takes but don’t waver. He stops when he’s right in front of me and grabs my chin in his hand.
“Cruelty has precision to it. That’s one thing my mother did teach me. She used words like a scalpel against mine, shaping and molding me until I no longer knew who I was. Even though I killed her,” He pauses and taps his finger against my lips, “I thanked her for that.”
My brows crease and I try to back out of his grip, but his hold tightens on my jaw.
I swallow. “And?”
“I use that to my best ability to not break. I confuse cruelty with love. I fondle control between my palms so I’m never that weak again. No matter how deep in the ground she is, I've developed her skills and each day I polish the knife and dig it deeper.” His words are cold, unnerving but I understand them.
“I’ve somehow turned the knives on myself.” He nods at my realisation. “I’ve broken myself too many times to count, withoutanother's influence. I became my own bully and I don’t know why.”
His eyes flash, recognition and pity coiling through before disappearing. “Then we’re not much different, Little Devil. That’s control, just a different form.”
I let the silence take over, collecting how to feel being just like him. It’s not a lie, we aren’t far from each other. The only difference is his mother caused his trauma and I caused my own. That’s why we seek each other out. That’s why there’s some weird connection between us. That’s why I disguised my love for hate.
“I want to rid myself of that control.” I mumble and a twisted smile curves his lips.
