Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Sasha was insistent on coming in with me, and when I shut the bathroom door, she laid down in front of it with a heavy huff.
I turned on the faucet and let it get scalding hot. Steam filled the room in a matter of minutes. I stripped and slowly sank into the tub with a heavy sigh of my own. Sasha huffed out again, and I glanced over at her.
“It was one of those nights for me too, girl.” I peered up at the bathroom vanity and the large mirror above it, having purposely not looked at my reflection when I passed it on my way to the tub. I was afraid to see what I looked like… what my own stupidity did to me.
Don’t you dare blame yourself.
Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to the fight. But it wasn’t my fault this shit happened. It was not my fault I got hurt, and the world now had one less motherfucker to worry about.
I sank lower in the tub, a painful tightness in my arms and legs setting in as soon as I was submerged. But it felt good. I liked that flash of discomfort telling me I was alive. I was safe.
As much as I didn’t want to replay the previous night’s events, they ran through my mind like a movie reel.
The hand on my throat getting tighter and tighter.
The feeling of the air getting pulled from my lungs.
That darkness creeping in….
I sat up with a gasp, this time welcoming the pain the deep breath caused, and scrubbed my body, my flesh burning the harder I ran the loofah over my arms and legs. I took a washrag next and scrubbed my face and neck, gasping quietly, as the pain was intense, but I couldn't stop.
Eventually, when I couldn’t take any more, and too weak to continue if I could’ve, I pulled the plug, got out, wrapped a towel around my body, and then faced the foggy mirror. My hand was shaking as I ran my palm over the glass, smearing the condensation so I could see the blurry visage of myself.
My reflection wasn’t clear, but the longer I stood there and the tub emptied, the more the steam dissipated and the room cleared, showing me the monster I appeared to be.
What my brothers had seen.
And what caused a full-on sociopath to feel—and even look—worried.
A hard gasp left me as I took in my eyes, the broken vessels looking like someone splattered blood across the whites. My left was worse than my right, and I ran a finger gently along my cheekbone.
I blinked tears away.
My face and upper chest had small red and purple dots covering it, almost like grisly little freckles. And my throat? God. My throat was also red and purple and would no doubt get darker with each passing hour. I ran my fingers along the large, very clear, bluish thumbprint on the right side of my throat, right over my pulse point.
Other fingerprint-sized bruises littered the left side of my throat, and a choked sound escaped me. I was sore, swollen and tender, and… I was fucking pissed. I clenched my teeth and exhaled, my breath coming out as this weird rattling noise.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” I whispered to my reflection. “I’m glad Gio fucking killed him like the worthless piece of shit he was.” The tears were falling down my cheeks, but I didn't bother brushing them away.
And despite being so angry, I could feel my heart racing. I felt unwavering despair and fear fill me. It was a fear I hadn't felt since I was a little girl, hiding—metaphorically and literally—from my father’s wrath.
I didn’t know what I was afraid of, but I knew it wasn’t Gio.
In fact, as I thought about him killing that man, then taking me back to his place and tending to me, I felt something powerful coursing through me.
I was afraid of what had happened to me. I was afraid of what would come if my brothers found out Gio was the one who intervened and helped.
There were so many things that could go wrong with Gio being the one who killed my attacker.
My brothers might see it as a betrayal that he hadn’t contacted them right away and told them what happened. I was afraid that revealing Gio's involvement could escalate tensions between him and my brothers, potentially leading to a violent conflict or, God, even a war between the two factions. They might see Gio’s actions as a challenge to their authority, or an infringement on their territory, which would then put Gio in great danger.
There were so many things rolling around in my head on what could—and would—go wrong if my brothers found out any of it.
I closed my eyes and pushed all that worry away so there was only one thing now claiming my thoughts.