Page 129 of Inevitable Destruction

That can only mean one thing…

He cleaned my car for me. He saw the mess, the evidence of what I had been through. It hurts more than it should.

The needle carves over a particularly sensitive place, and I hiss.

“Yeah, ribs aren’t a good spot, man. Better bear down ‘cause I’m just getting started.” I take a deep breath and let my eyes fall closed.

* * *

By the timethe tattoo is finished, it’s dark outside. I stand on shaky, dead legs and walk over to the full length mirror leaning against the wall. The second I step into the frame, my eyes widen.

The lightning bolt starts just under my right pec and trails down my torso, over my ribs, veering towards my spine. I tug at my sweatpants, following as it travels down, past my hip and ending on my inner thigh, close to my groin in a line of solid black ink.

My fingers hover above my reddened skin, tracing over the design, its significance hitting me hard. I swallow the lump in my throat and step back, turning away from my reflection. My eyes land on the scars dotting my forearms, and I rub my thumb over one of them. The scar tissue is thick, but I like seeing the reminders every time I look at myself.

It’s masochistic, but I need the memento.

“It’s fucking amazing.” Essa breathes, stepping up from directly behind me. Just as her arm darts out to touch me, a voice barks out behind her.

“Get the fuck away from him, baby doll.” Vincent steps into the room, a huge, tattooed guy trailing right behind him. While Vincent’s eyes remain locked on Essa, I watch as the other dude walks right toward Jaxon and tugs at his arm, pulling him off to the side.

I look away, back at my reflection in the mirror before stepping away and back to the table where my shirt is. Just as I stick my arms in the sleeves, Jaxon calls out, “Hold on, I need to wrap that. Just give me a second.”

I sit on the table, waiting for him. Essa wraps her arms around Vincent’s neck and stands on her tiptoes to give him a kiss—which he deepens with a growl, wrapping his hand around her throat and pushing her back against the mirror. It rocks from the force but stays upright.

The pang in my gut forces my gaze away and back to the floor—but not for obvious reasons. Seeing them together does nothing to me anymore except make me miss the one person I ever felt that passion with.

I’m not sure we could ever be together again, not that we ever really were. I was his, but he was never mine. I know now that I gave too much of myself to him, but it was never a choice of mine, never any other option other than to be whatever he needed me to be.

“Here,” Jaxon says, tapping my shoulder. I startle and stand, letting him stick some plastic shit to me. He tells me how to take care of it before shuffling back off to the big guy who’s… glaring daggers at me… okay.

My hand rubs the back of my neck as I suck on the front of my teeth. Taking a look around at the two obvious couples, I roll my eyes and walk out the front door, pulling my cigarettes from my pocket.

I gave up every last vice I had except this one. We all need something to take the edge off, and I need this—a way to clear my head, help me focus, and give me something when my impulses are high.

As I breathe the much needed nicotine into my lungs, the door opens and closes behind me. In my peripheral, I see Vincent spark his own. In mutual silence, we smoke our cancer sticks and stare out into the city.

Skyscrapers line the horizon, the lights of the city surrounding them in a hue. I’ve never seen anything like it before.

“You can’t come back after you leave.” Vincent’s voice sounds through the night, breaking the silence that had descended on us. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before I answer.

“I know. I didn’t plan on it.”

“Good. She may have been in your life once, but that’s over with now.”

“Still possessive of her, I see.”

“Always,” he replies, flicking the cigarette butt.

“I can’t stay anyway. There’s too much baggage. It’s not good for either of us.”

“I don’t give a shit about you, but I agree. She’s still healing from her sister’s death, even after all this time, and I think her seeing you again has brought some of those feelings back.”

“I understand. It’s not easy for me, either. But I do appreciate everything you both have done these last six months. I know it wasn’t easy for you,” I tell him, needing to get it all off my chest before I get in my car and drive away without saying goodbye again. But not saying goodbye to Essa feels okay. She doesn’t need me, and I don’t need her.

We’re simply two people who required what the other had to heal, and now that we’re both okay, we can go our separate ways with no regrets.

It’s a good feeling.

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