Page 14 of Stand: Part One
Fuck, I was tired. So goddamn tired. But I just couldn’t sleep anymore.
I was too goddamn angry.
The morphine could numb my pain away and make my body feel absolutely nothing, but it couldn’t do shit for the dangerous emotions thundering away in my head. I’d been here before, trapped in a useless, broken body, bound to the excruciating limitations of injuries I had no choice but to endure.
It wasn’t fair.
After Sid explained to me the height of the hurdles I was facing, I completely shut down for the rest of the day. I didn’t want to hear anymore. Didn’t want to face it. Didn’t have the energy to process it. I just wanted to be left the fuck alone.
I had come to accept that when my bones finally healed, I would likely have to learn how to walk again. Fucking walk. Of all the things to be robbed of, it had to be the most basic of bodily movements. My legs, my most powerful assets, were fucking useless to me now in every possible way. The devastation was palpable; everyone in the room could feel my energy shifting into a tornado of despair and unbridled anger. But I’d kept it contained.
Until now.
Now that my head was finally clear and I wasn’t so drugged up, I could truly reflect and then absolutely fucking rage to the sky.
My breath came in and out with too much angst, my chest heaving to accommodate the rush of oxygen while my blood raced through what was left of my broken heart. I hadn’t felt an eruption coming like this since I broke apart in that hotel room when we were honeymooning in Italy. I’d been betrayed by Darren then. And now I’d been betrayed by the universe. Except this time, the usual destruction I was capable of was restricted to only what was within my immediate reach.
With a single swipe of my arm, I scattered everything on top of the medical cabinet next to me all over the floor. Glass shattered against the wall as I chucked whatever the fuck was in my hand across the room. The tray over my lap was whipped into the air, the bedside table shoved over to crash against the floor, the sheets in my hands ripped into ribbons. And when nothing was left to target, I grabbed my hair.
“Fuuuuuuuuccckkkk!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, not giving a flying fuck who heard me.
Scalding tears of anger and frustration slid down my face as my fingers tangled through my hair and held tight at my roots. I sucked back massive gusts of oxygen to calm myself down, but all I wanted to do was take a sledgehammer to the fucking walls.
Why does this keep happening to me?
“Because you’re built for it.”
My head shot up as my eyes darted across the room, searching for the source of the voice. And when I didn’t see anyone, my gaze crept to the shadows in the corner where the light could not reach.
I quickly wiped my tears away and stared into the darkness, waiting for him to step into the light.
Like some kind of shadow demon, Darren stepped out of the darkness and into the dim glow of the room. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him.
His body was drenched in so much blood it looked like he had fucking bathed in it. With his arms folded across his chest, he radiated the most menacing energy I had ever felt from him. It made me shudder as he stepped closer, the look on his face pinning me in place, too terrified to move or blink.
“What…?” That was all I could manage to say to iterate the question in my head.
The closer he got, the more I could smell the carnage on him. It was fresh, the blood still glistening in the soft light. Some of it had also coagulated into the wrinkles of his gray shirt, and some had dried in speckles across his face and neck. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he stopped at the foot of my bed, a dark expression on his face that left me utterly haunted.
“What…happened?”
Darren dipped his chin, his eyes blazing with so much possession and pure malevolence it scared the absolute shit out of me.
“I slaughtered them,” he rasped, his voice damn near unrecognizable. “For you.”
My eyes widened in horror. “Who?”
“The men responsible.”
My eyes resumed their assessment of the amount of blood still dripping from his clothes. I had expected it. I just didn’t expect to witness the immediate grotesque aftermath of it.
“How many were there?”
“Four.”
I swallowed dryly at the implication. He’d literally just come back from killing those four people. And he wanted me to know that. Why?
“What did you do to them?” I whispered, my gaze still entranced by the amount of blood and gore caked all over him.
