Pulling out my phone, I dialed the closest cab service and asked for a pick-up. I’d have to wait almost an hour until I’d get home, but that was okay. It would give me time to think.
My future was my main focus and I couldn’t let myself get so easily distracted again. I’d only met him not even two weeks prior and he was all I’d thought about after that short amount of time.
I couldn’t do that again. It wasn’t me.
But then again, he’d made me do things I wouldn’t normally do.
After arriving home from the best and worst night of my life, I made the decision to talk to Melanie about it in the morning. I should have told her from the beginning; then maybe she could have saved me from another heartache.
Chapter 30
Mason
“Fuck!” I punched the wall with my good hand and hissed as it went through the drywall.
I wasn’t fucking thinking, and I’d completely forgotten she was still in the fucking house. I’d given myself to her that night, something I’d never done, and then I’d woken up from a dream crazed and delirious, not knowing how the fuck I’d gotten there.
Fuck.
I let her see me. All of me. My years of self-destruction, and the first thing she’d thought to say was I needed to go to the hospital.
I laughed.
I looked down at my hand that was still balled into a fist. Skin was hanging off the knuckles, but it looked worse than it actually was. My hip was another story. I’d definitely need stitches, but there was no way I was going to the hospital.
Walking down to my office as slowly as I could, I picked up my cell and dialed the only person I knew could help me.
“Hello,” he answered groggily.
“Luke. I need your help.” The words took a moment to come out. It was rare that I asked anyone for help; I wasn’t that kind of guy. Asking for help made you seem weak and I wasn’t, but there were times I had to give in. I looked down at my hip at the chunk of skin hanging open. It was definitely time to give in.
“What happened?” Luke asked, sounding more awake.
I didn’t answer. “Bring your kit and make it quick.”
I hung up the phone, walked to the sitting area across the foyer and sat down on the sofa. Blood was getting everywhere, but I didn’t care. I could have it all fucking replaced. The pain shooting up from my hip was excruciating, but I just gritted my teeth and dealt with it. I deserved everything I could give myself.
Luke would show up and fix my hip. He’d done it before. He was a partier, but with all his partying he’d still gone to school to be a doctor. He never finished, but he still knew what he was doing and he was the only person who knew about the cutting. He was the only one I trusted. He was like a brother to me. He’d asked me on several occasions why I did it, but I never gave him an answer. How could you answer something you yourself don’t understand? How would I explain to someone the relief I felt at the pain I caused myself was like a high? He’d want me to be examined by a shrink, and maybe he’d be right. Maybe I needed to be examined. Maybe I needed to be sent to a padded room. Maybe then I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else.
I needed to find a way to shut the Black Widow down. He ruined my whole life, him and John. I couldn’t keep living the way I was, and they needed to pay for everything they’d put me through. I still blamed myself for my mother’s death, but John was the reason she was going to leave that day. She found out what he was involved in and he would have had her quieted, more than likely killed. But Sophia? That was all a mind-fuck. He fucked up any chance I had at a normal life. He ruined any chance I’d ever have at a normal relationship. My feelings for Emma were doomed from the start.
I rested my head back on the couch, my body feeling completely drained. All the adrenaline was leaving my body and sleep was trying to take over. I closed my eyes and pictured Emma’s face. I’d never forget the look on her face when our eyes locked in the bathroom. She’d looked at me with sympathy, and I hated that fucking look. I hated it even more coming from her. I didn’t want or need it. It pissed me the fuck off, and I’d yelled for her to leave.
I put fear into her and although that wasn’t what I’d necessarily wanted, it was for the best. She would be better off not knowing me. She’d be safer forgetting me. I couldn’t let anything happen to her. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
I looked down at my hip, the blood running onto the couch. So many scars marked my skin, but my need would never go away. I was bound to ruin anything in my wake, and it was the number one reason why I never let anyone get close. I was poison. I’d done enough damage in my life; I didn’t want to destroy her.
There was no saving me, but I could save her.