He folds his arms across his chest and leans on the door frame while I crawl to the shower. Once inside, I weakly tug at my clothes and find myself bleeding more than I was earlier. The stabbing pain in my stomach feels as if he’s taken a knife, and he’s carving me open. And he may as well be the one to do it because he hasn’t wanted this. Paulo’s made it clear he wasn’t with me to start a happy family. I was nothing more than a distraction.
“Please,” I cry again, but he doesn’t move. My hands are on my stomach, even though it’s not big, not swollen with life, I can feel myself breaking down. I thought I was strong, like I could do this for my father, be with the man before me. But as I sit there on the cold tiles of our shower, I know I’ll never come back from this. I can’t. My lungs struggle to pull in breaths, and as I watch Paulo glare down at me, I finally shatter. It’s been years since I allowed myself to succumb to heartbreak, but this is my final straw.
I can’t go on.
I’m no longer alive.
I’m a shell.
I shut my eyes, my head leaning against the cool tiles, but nothing eases the pure, raw pain that shoots through every part of me.
“I hate you! You bastard!” My voice is hoarse, scraping my throat with every word. “Fuck you! You did this to me!”
He smiles. “But you can never leave, or your precious daddy will die.” Satisfaction is painted across his features.
Rage has me seeing red, and if I could pull myself up, I would go to him and hit him, throw something at him. But he knows I can’t. I’m not capable of it right now. “I wish you would die! You heartless fucking bastard!”
My heart cracks in two.
I did this.
But I didn’t.
It was him.
All fucking him.
When Cassian pushes open the door to the bedroom, the sun is gone, and I’m curled on the bed, my body shaking, and my mind awash with images of me dying here, on this bed.
The moment his gaze lands on me, he’s at my side. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” The guilt in his tone makes me want to cry, but I’m too cold to even voice what’s happening, what I’m feeling. I want to appease him. This isn’t his fault. I did it. All those years, I kept chasing the high, the nothingness that took over when I lost myself in my addiction.
Yes, I welcomed it, but later, I realized I only wanted that high; that numbing sensation was because I thought Cassian didn’t love me as much as I did him. At the time, I was hungry for his words, for his affection, and my empty heart devoured every fucking word without question.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re fucking not.” He lifts me in his arms, and the shaking subsides slightly, but my hands are trembling as my body aches for a high. Just one little taste of something. “Fuck, I should never have left you.”
His body cradles me as if I were a fragile doll that’s about to shatter if he were to walk away, and for a moment, I think I might. Tears burn their way from my lashes down my cheeks, and my chest aches. My heart thuds against my ribs, the pain stealing my breath.
“Cass,” I murmur, my hands gripping his shirt in an attempt to stop shaking. I’m not sure if it will work, but just having him close calms my mind.
“You’re strong,” he tells me, honesty dancing in his eyes and emotion cracking in his tone. “You’ll get through this, and when you do, we’re going to run away together and explore the world.” The promise in his words settles my heart, and my stomach turns with anxiety as I picture him having to deal with me like this for the rest of our lives.
“I-I can’t do this,” I mumble, pushing him away, anger surging through me suddenly. My emotions are in turmoil with every moment that passes. This is why I never stopped. Each time I felt the withdrawals hitting me, I would just inhale a few lines to keep my sanity. It was the only way I could ever feel normal, feel steady.
But this isn’t normal.
“What exactly can’t you do?” Cassian questions, his voice low and gravelly, danger igniting every word. He doesn’t move away from me though, he’s still inches from me even though I tried to push him away.
“I’m a mess,” I cry, sobs wracking my body, and his arms only tighten their hold on me as if he’s trying to ground me. “I can’t ask you to do this.”
“You’re not asking me to do shit, little liar,” he confirms with his eyes locked on mine, confidence drenching his words. “You saved my life; I’m saving yours.”