Page 279 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

“But one of the things I asked of you when we started was that I wanted a dynamic, and not a romantic relationship. And I think those lines have started to blur.”

Of course they have. Because I love you, and I want every ounce of you to be mine, including your heart and your affection.

Fuck. When had that changed?

“What can I do?” My voice seemed foreign, like it was coming out of my mouth without my permission.

She worked her mouth, took a deep breath, and then deflated, letting her head fall. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell she was crying from the tension in her shoulders.

“Baby–”

“I’m not your baby.”

Her voice was cold, and somewhat distant as she said it. “And I’mnotyoursweetheart.” She lifted her head, her eyes bloodshot, but dry. Her refusal to cry bothered me more than I expected.

Her voice was so low that it broke, like she was choking on something. “No more triggers, and no hypnosis. It’s bothering me, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.” She looked scared, and a little angry.

“I promise.”

“Swear it,” she whispered, her voice still shaking slightly. “Swear on something that matters.”

“I swear it on the stars.”

Her eyes widened and her lip quivered. She stood up abruptly, nodded, and whispered, “Thank you, Sir.” Then she turned on her heel and said, “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”

She was gone before I got the words “sleep well” out of my mouth.

She was back... she was home... but we were a million light years apart.

I was staring at my hands, wondering why they were damp, wondering why I felt like my chest was going to explode, why my throat felt like I was choking and couldn’t breathe. I could barely see. My body felt... red. Red like blood.Scarlett.

I will destroy you.

This was my fault, I knew. She had been honest with me from the beginning and had told me what she wanted, what she needed, and what she expected. I’d made promises I couldn’t keep, and now I was at risk of losing one of the only things that mattered to me.

It took me an hour before I had the energy to stand up. Unable to walk by her bedroom without peeking inside, I cracked the door open.

She was curled up in her bed, naked and asleep. She hugged a pillow against her chest like a stuffed toy or a lover, one leg thrown over it. Her lips were parted, her hair was everywhere, and the tension and the fear from her face had evaporated, leaving her looking completely at peace.

I looked down at the desk nearby, and saw her journal, open with tearstains covering the pages.

I shouldn’t. I promised her I wouldn’t look.

But she was asleep, and scared, and clearly hurt, and I worried she wouldn’t talk to me and be honest with me for a while. So I pulled my cell phone out and used it as a flashlight to read the pages.

Oh God.

He loves me.

He loves me, and I think I might love him back.

I read on as she wrote about the shock and the fear of loving someone, the terror of her emotions, confessing her feelings to the page. The weight and the tension left my body as I read.

What if he doesn’t love me, he just loves the control he has over me? What if all he wanted was to tame me? To make me a good girl like I was in that video? A useless, drooling, doormat of a girl who does whatever anyone says, who drops to her knees with a flick of a wrist and sucks a cock at a word, because that’s the only thing I’m good for. I’m a useless slut, a dirty whore, good for nothing but getting people off and taking abuse. Because that’s what I am, apparently. Not a pain slut. An abuse slut. Maybe that’s my poison. I have to be abused to feel loved, to feel needed.

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