From the Ashes (Possessed 2.50)

He’s sizing me up again. I feel like a bug under a microscope.

“I want you to have dinner with me,” he says. “Tonight.”

Well, color me stupid. He’s just like every man I’ve ever met.

“I’m not having sex with you so you can report back to him that all is fucking sunny,” I point-blank tell him. I refuse to mince my words or dick around the subject. This just means I have someone snooping in my life longer and harder.

“I don’t want sex,” he says, yet I can see the interest in his eyes.

“Then what do you want? Just spill it.” I’ve lost any semblance of patience I might have had by now.

“I can see the twitching in your fingers, but I know you’re not on drugs. The pain in your eyes screams you need relief in some way; I just haven’t figured it out yet.” He cocks his head to the side this time, studying me some more.

I fight to keep from scratching my arms, staying silent as his eyes travel up and down my body. I want to run so bad.

“Have dinner with me tonight. We’ll talk. I’ll see if there’s anything else I can help you with.” His offer stuns me. He wants to help me? Why? I hate being on the defensive all the time now.

“You haven’t told me your name yet.” I don’t know why I point it out. I have no interest in knowing him.

“Guess you’ll have to go out to dinner with me to find out. I’ll pick you up at six. Be ready.” He walks away like he thinks I’ll just do as he pleases.

I watch him as he makes his exit with his sexy swagger and fine ass like he owns the whole damn world. And with his looks and cocky attitude, I have no doubt he probably believes he does. I can’t have anything to do with that kind of perfect.

I tainted myself when I began pointing out other people’s imperfections, when I decided to be a follower instead of a leader. I have made so many hasty decisions based on what other people wanted instead of what I believed.

I know I can never have him, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to dream about a man like him seeing past my imperfections—and there were plenty of them. I’ll just never get to live the life I once planned for myself.

Gazing at my phone as it vibrates in my pocket, I see three texts from Landon and one from Zach, my parole officer. I have half a mind to blast him for sending that man to spy on me. For a week, he’s been watching me. Lord only knows what he’s seen.

I think back to make sure I haven’t done anything to give away my secret. If that gets out, I could only imagine what my parents would do. If they’d send me away again.

Some days, I feel like I’ve been nothing but a problem to handle for them. I admit I was never the best child. Most of what I did was for attention I never got. It wasn’t because they were bad parents, in fact, they showered me with love and everything I needed, yet I always felt like I craved more. Like somehow I wasn’t good enough for them.

I was unworthy.

Going to prison didn’t exactly make me feel any more deserving of their affection. If anything, it showed me I was just a spoiled, little brat with daddy issues.

It makes no fucking sense! And drives me absolutely insane.

Biting the bullet, I open the text from Zach first, unsurprised to see him reminding me of our appointment in a few days.

I met him the day I got out of FCCW. He seems like a nice enough guy. Demands honesty from me no matter how much I don’t want to give it, and for the most part, I comply.

Reaching the at-risk youth center I volunteer at, I immediately head to the employee washroom. Pulling a small razor from my pocket, I roll up my sleeve. My eyes critically roam my forearm.

My dirty secret.

My biggest shame.

My downfall.

Zach has a right to be worried. There is something wrong with me. So wrong, I don’t think I’ll ever be right again. Small nicks and scratches line my arms, my thighs, my stomach. Thirteen months evoked a lot of built up emotions, and this is the only way I find satisfaction, temporary though it may be. This is how I hide from the pain.

Placing the razor over a piece of skin that has long since healed, I slice a small line. The skin splitting burns as small drops of blood ooze from the fresh cut.

All I feel is relief.

Relief of the feelings that man evoked in me this morning.