Page 35 of Tyson (Ariel Kimber 4.50)

"Fuck this," I muttered, not about to give in and be a dick to her no matter how much she acted like she wanted it.

"No, Ty," she hissed. "Fuckyou."

Yeah,I thought,fuck me.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side, ready to get up and get the fuck out of here until after she was gone. And, if she didn't leave but ended up in bed with someone else, well, then I would just have to really get the fuck out of here and maybe go to Julian's or Damien's.

"What are you doing?" She asked my back as I stood up from the bed.

"I'll tell you what I'm not doing," I said quietly, "and that's fighting with you."

"I don't want to fight with you either," she whispered.

"Then, what the fucks your problem?" I shot back as I turned around to face her. I placed my hands on my hips and glared down at her.

Damn it. Now I was doing exactly what I said I wasn't going to do.

"I came here because I want you to stop avoiding me and I wanted to work this out with you because it's been bothering me to think you're upset with me. And now it's worse than it was before."

I shook my head. "We already talked that over and moved past it. That's done. You don't need to worry about that anymore."

And that was no lie. We were done with that and should be in the clear but, for whatever fucked up reason, we were worse off than where we had started.

"I.... I... Ty..." she stammered while looking confused. "I'm so messed up."

My head jerked when she'd said that and I studied her carefully. I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, she looked the same as always.

"How're you messed up?" I asked her in a quiet voice, wanting her to answer me without the bullshit this time.

"I," she said and then stopped. She swallowed loudly before lifting her hand towards her face. She hesitated before trailing the tips of her fingers down the pinkish white scar that curved around the apple of her cheek.

Watching her make that move had my body getting tight and my chest seizing.

"He did this to me," she said quietly. "Left his mark behind for me to wear every day for the rest of my life. But it's worse, Ty, so much worse."

"How's it worse, baby?" I whispered as I uncrossed my arms and moved back towards the bed, back to her.

I sat down on the edge of the bed with one leg bent into the bed, my other leg over the side of the bed with my foot on the floor and my upper body turned Ariel's way.

She lowered her hand from her face to press it into her middle where she moved it around to several places, stopping and pressing in deep in certain places. My eyes watched her move and it got hard for me to breathe as her hand roamed around her belly. I knew what she was doing and why she stopped where she did.

"Left his marks on Dash," she whispered in a voice that wobbled. "I see them when I close my eyes. I see him plunging that knife in over and over again every time I close my eyes."

"Baby," I whispered as I reached for her.

She scooted back on her knees, just out of arms reach.

"I close my eyes," she said in that quiet, wobbly voice, "and I see his arms wheeling around in the air and the look on his face right before his body connected with the cement. The noise it made. The blood that immediately pooled out of his head. I see it every time I close my eyes and you know what, Ty?"

She stopped speaking and looked at me with those big green eyes of hers that were filled to the brim with raw emotion and none of it was good.

"What?" I gritted out roughly, my voice clogged as I choked on my emotions.

She pressed her hand back into her belly as she shook her head slowly from side to side.

"I seeherhead as it made contact with the corner of the counter and then her sprawled on the floor withherblood pooling around her head and I feel like a horrible person because I'm glad they're both dead because it means they can't hurt me anymore. And... and," she held her hands up helplessly in front of her body and she looked at them like she had no idea how they'd gotten there. "And I need you to tell me I'm not a terrible person, Tyson. You weren't there when she died, you didn't see it, but you were there when he died, you saw it, too. And you did not care at all. You didn't try to hide that you didn't care he'd died and, I might not have understood it at first, but I don't think you're a terrible person because of it. So, why do I feel like a terrible person? Why can't I shake this? They were both awful people and, I would never say they deserved what they got, but-"

I'd heard enough and was done with this shit. She had no reason whatsoever to feel like a terrible person. If she was a terrible person, then I was the goddamn devil.

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