Page 105 of Inevitable Destruction

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growl on instinct as he pops open a baggie full of white powder. He glares at me through his lashes, effectively ignoring my warning as he dumps powder onto his hand, immediately snorting it up his nose. He dumps more and then snorts that too.

My body vibrates with unkempt rage as his blatant disregard of me. “Dominik.” My warning is quiet and low, vibrating through my sternum. He flips me off before trying for another bump when I charge forward and smack the baggie out of his hand. It flies across the bed, scattering the blanket in fine, white dust.

“Fuck you!” he screams, wide-eyed and frantic. His fist connects with my jaw, and I lash out, pinning his arms down at his side as I shake him.

“No, fuck you, Dominik! Fuck you for all of this. Fuck your fucking whore of a mother and your piece of shit, murdering father! They took everything from me!” I bellow, my own body shaking with a fury so violent, I can vividly picture shoving Dominik against the wall with my hand wrapped so tightly around his throat, his eyes bulge out of their sockets as all oxygen to his brain is cut off.

“And you,” I scoff breathlessly, a dry, humorless chuckle bubbling up my throat. “You’re so goddamn destructive to everyone around you, you don’t even see the damage you cause until the storm passes and the only thing left is a clear path of your nuclear devastation.”

“I may be fucking destructive, Everett, but you’re a fucking snake. Cold and manipulative. You strike fast then retreat before you even get hurt.” His bottom lip wobbles, twisting my gut.

“But worst of all is your fucking bite doesn’t hurt. I don’t feel the sting. Not until later, after your poison has seeped deep into my veins that I feel the effect of you.

“You feel worse than my needles. At least with that, I know what to expect—the quick prick as it punctures my skin, and then fucking nothing. But with you? I never feel the goddamn nothing!

“When you’re with me, fucking inside of me, I feel everything! You made me crave you more than I could ever crave any drug.

“What the fuck did you do to me?! I don’t want to feel like this. Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP!” he screams, trying to yank himself from my grasp. I tighten my hold, which only makes him scream louder, the words falling from his lips a jumbled mess I can’t make out. I shake him, panic surging through my body.

I’ve never seen someone so undone, so fucking lost to the world around them. I force my feet to take a step back, my hands unfurling from their bruising grip on his biceps. My fingers leave indents on his skin, the only thing I focus on as I absentmindedly pull my clothes on, needing a barrier between me and the man I fucking love to hate.

My eyes drop to my hands, shaking and unsteady. I’m not sure how long I stand there, listening to his painful wails shatter my defenses before pale, veiny hands cover mine, taking them between his.

My gaze flicks up, finding a silent, deceptively calm Dominik staring down at our clasped hands with a look so forlorn, I hold my breath. He drops to his knees in front of me, complete and utter defeat washing over his pretty boy face. Tears well in his eyes, giving them a sparkling, glossy appearance before finally spilling over. His lips twist in a sneer as he swipes angrily at his face, as if he’s disgusted with himself.

My heart capsizes. My beauty boy is broken, and I don’t know how to help him. I… don’t know if I even could. Or if I even want to.

He wraps his arms around me and presses the side of his face to my stomach. Wetness soaks into my still slightly damp T-shirt as his body trembles, creating a whole new world of pain I have never felt before.

Anguish. Misery. Sorrow.

Remorse.

“Fucking leave.” His voice cracks, breaking off at the end, but I heard him loud and clear, the severity in his tone cutting deep. The humidity of his wet breaths puffing over my shirt warm my clammy skin, and I can’t help wrapping my arms around the sides of his head and pressing his face deeper into my abdomen, just holding him to me. Holding on for dear fucking life.

Because this is it: the moment that’s been on a never-ending loop in my mind ever since I saw him standing next to Essa Monroe, when he inexplicably ruined my fucking life. I knew then I wanted to break him, to make him hate every part of himself.

I succeeded—and now I hate myself even more for it.

“LEAVE!” he screams out, the noise tearing from his throat breaking sound barriers. He clambers to his feet, shoving me, and I fall back into the door. The handle jars my spine, but I don’t feel it. I can’t feel anything other than this inescapable pain lancing through my chest, making every breath difficult, like my body is battling with its innate ability to keep me alive.

This is what I wanted… so why do I feel so fucking monstrous?

I swallow the lump lodged at the base of my throat. Maybe because I manipulated Dominik’s weakness into something I could exploit.

As I chance a glance at him through my own blurred vision, I can see it—the evidence of what I’ve done, staring right back at me with cold, vacant eyes. The light, the passion, his need—gone. There’s nothing looking back at me—just a pair of hunter green eyes, void of any signs of life.

Dead.

Dominik Reed is dead. And I’m the one that killed him.

I should feel elated. I avenged my father, bringing closure to the calamity his untimely death caused.

This is what I wanted,I repeat to myself over and over, screaming the words inside my head as I tear my eyes away from a broken, beaten down Dominik Reed. I force my leaden feet to take me to the front door, to wrap my hands around the knob and pull it open, to step over the threshold and not look back.

If I look back, I’ll see things I can’t allow myself to see, feel things I can’t fucking feel. I’ll break—just like him and that. Can’t. Happen.

His voice sounds behind me, his words chilling me, stealing the last piece of my soul. “Fuck you, Rhett. You broke me worse than she ever could have, more than their deaths did.”

I swallow down the lump lodged in my throat as I pull the door shut behind me without a backwards glance. I take four steps away from the door before I fall to my knees. They slam into the thin carpet with a resounding crack, but I barely register the sound over the shattering of my heart.

The smashing of glass and hollow screams ring through the hallway, and I flinch, my shoulders hunching when I realize it’s coming from behind me, just on the other side of the door—the only thing separating me from him.

I’m fucking obliterated—all because the boy with a pretty face and an addiction managed to slither his way inside, into my fucking soul.

“It wasn’t worth it,” I say aloud, minutes, hours, months too fucking late.

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