“I’ll decide that,” King growled at him.
The bottle went back in, more savagely this time. He wrapped his fingers around the neck and fucked me so tightly I cried.
And then I felt it shatter.
And I howled.
“Fucking shit, what did you do?” Stranger screamed at King, and I cried so pathetically I felt like a little girl again, because I couldn’t say a single word.
“Fuck,” King cursed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, what have I done?”
I could feel it inside me. Feel the shards cutting into me, and my pussy clenched because that’s what it did when it had something inside it, and they cut me so deep. My cries felt like they’d break the windows .
King pulled his fingers out of me along with the rest of the bottle. His hand was bloody.
“Is there anything left?” Stranger barked at him. “Check if there’s pieces left.”
But he couldn’t. King just stared at his bloody arm, and then back at me as I cried, softly now.
He got up and walked away from me.
And he ignored Stranger shouting obscenities after him.Thirty-FiveKingI knew it was over the moment I left her in there, with glass shards in her pussy and my heart at her feet.
Leaving the room was the move of a coward, but it was the right thing to do. I had to let them sort it out, I couldn’t be there for it.
It wasn’t supposed to happen, breaking the bottle in her pussy, and I would hate myself for it for the rest of my life. I knew I’d never be able to forgive myself.
I waited in the bathroom like a fucking coward, staring at my reflection in the mirror and wondering who the man looking back at me was. I barely recognized him anymore.
It felt like hours passed, but it must’ve been only thirty minutes. Someone banged on the bathroom door, and I forced myself to pull it together, to pretend like I did it all on purpose.
I opened the door with my eyes hazy, and my mouth set in a thin line, glaring at Stranger in front of me.
“You motherfucking sonofabitch,” he growled at me, and then he was on me.
It could’ve been the fight of a lifetime, if I’d let him make it into one.
But I didn’t.
I just let him hit me, over and over again, because I fucking deserved that and so much worse. My wound on my nose reopened, and I let the blood wash over my face as he hit my guts, my sides, everything he could. I took all of it and I welcomed the pain, because at least I felt something other than despair.
“You just fucking left her,” he spat at me once he was done, and I lay on the floor wheezing and trying to catch my breath. “You fucking jackass, she could have bled out.”
“Is she okay?” I asked, the only question that really mattered.
“Yeah,” he laughed bitterly. “No fucking thanks to you. She has cuts inside her. I barely got all the damn glass out, you fucking sadistic piece of shit.”
I could have explained it wasn’t on purpose, but it wouldn’t have done any good. I’d already lost her, anyway. I lost Pet the day I met her.
I got up from the floor on shaky feet, and I stared at Stranger, and he looked at me like he barely knew who I was. I guess he didn’t really know much more than Pet. And he wasn’t about to find out, either.
“I’m taking her with me,” he told me in a flat voice. “I’m not fucking letting her stay here with you.”
“Fine,” I bit out. I think he was surprised by my reaction, opening his mouth to fight back before he realized I’d agreed. “Take her.”
He stared at me for a while longer, then left the bathroom. I wasted several precious minutes by washing my face from the blood he’d drawn, and pulling on a dirty shirt from the hamper in the bathroom, because I didn’t want to fucking walk around shirtless for this. My last moments with Pet…
It couldn’t really be it. This couldn’t be the end. I needed her. She was the air I wanted to breathe, hers was the only mouth I wanted to taste, the only pussy I wanted to be inside, for the rest of my life, whatever it fucking took…
But really, none of it mattered. I’d fucked up, and I’d hurt her, and now it was time to finally, finally say goodbye.
Things had to happen like this. It was no use fighting it. I just had to face it and say goodbye.
It still took me a while to get out of there, but when I did, I walked out with my head held high. That is, until I saw her sprawled on the sofa, wearing an oversized shirt. Not hers. His.