Page 77 of Under Your Scars
“Notcall the police.”
His tone has turned dark, and I feel anger brewing in my chest. “Let me get this straight. You broke Neil Hayden’s arm for grabbing me in a restaurant and threatened to kill him if he touched me again, but you draw the line at reporting aserial killerto the police?”
Now that I’m riled up, I think about how nonchalant Christian has been about the whole stalker situation. To be honest with myself, he’s never once shown concern for it. Like it’s an afterthought to him when it’s been tormenting me for months. “Do you not care that the Silencer is stalking me? Do you even understand how hard it is to not feel safe in your own home?”
“Fuck, Elena! Of course I care!” Christian shouts, and it’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice at me. He didn’t even sound this terrifying when he was threatening Neil. Cold shivers trail up my spine and I cross my arms over my chest, shrinking into the door of the car. After a moment, he reaches across the expanse between us that feels about a mile long, and lightly squeezes my thigh.
For the first time, his touch doesn’t bring me comfort. It only makes me colder.
I stare out the window, and once we reach the Reeves Estate, I don’t say a single word to Christian as I pick a guestroom, slam the door behind me, and lock it.
I collapse against the cool wood of the door and tuck my knees into my chest. The door moves a few times as Christian tries to open it, but the lock keeps him out. I hear a small thud when he takes a seat against the door on the opposite side.
“Christian?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Will you tell me the bad thing now?”
It’s quiet for a moment. “Only if you let me in.”
I don’t even have to think about it. I stand up from my place on the floor, walk to the bed, and bury myself under the covers.
After a few hours of feeling sorry for myself I decide I need to talk to Christian. I need to understand why he got so upset about me calling the police. It can’t just be that he doesn’t like them.Nobodylikes the MCPD.
I take a deep breath, trying to build up some courage before I go find Christian. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, but I know for sure that if there was ever a moment where he should tell me the ‘bad thing’, it should be now. This strange limbo we’re in seems like a good time to share all our demons.
Well, for Christian to share his.
I pull myself together and walk to Christian’s room with my heart pounding in my chest. I knock on his bedroom door and poke my head in. It’s empty, but the light is on in his bathroom. I can hear his voice on the other side.
It almost sounds like he’s weeping, and if my life were a movie, this is when the suspenseful music would start. I reach for the door, slowly, like a horrible monster is waiting on the other side for me. I suck in a sharp gasp and jump back when I hear something shatter.
I gulp and carefully twist the handle. It’s unlocked. I push the door slowly until it’s fully open.
Christian is standing in the middle of the bathroom. His hair is wet from a shower that’s still running. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. I’ve never seen his naked torso. His back muscles are beautiful like the rest of him.
Blood drips to the floor from his knuckles. The bathroom mirror is in shards across the countertop. He’s facing away from me, tugging on his hair, hitting the side of his head, and mumbling quietly to himself.
“Christian?” I ask, reaching out to lightly grab his bicep.
He whips around abruptly, and nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when he turned around.
The look on his face—God, I’ve never seen anyone look so broken and uneasy. Tears stream down his cheeks, dripping off his chin and landing on his chest.
It’s not just his knuckles that are bleeding. He’s got a shard of the mirror in his hand and three cuts along his left forearm.
My eyes trace over his body, lingering on his broad, strong chest.
Hisentirebody is covered in scars. Not just his wrists, but hiseverything. His chest is littered with bruises in various stages of healing. I swallow when my eyes land on the marred skin where his heart is.
Five scars.
Five jagged letters of the alphabet, pink and healing.
Five letters that spell my name.
I think I’m in shock, but something compels me to trace my fingers over the letters and Christian trembles under my touch, sucking in a sharp breath.
