Toxic: Logan's Story (Torn #4)(37)

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay? I don’t have enough money to bail you out.”

I laughed. “I’ll try my hardest.”

He frowned. “I’m serious. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

I ignored him as we pulled into David’s driveway again. This time, a car was parked out front. I smiled as I opened my door.

“Stay out here. I want to do this on my own,” I said.

“I don’t think you should be alone with him.”

“Please, Logan, let me do this on my own. If I’m not out in fifteen, you can come inside.”

He hesitated before finally nodding. “Fifteen minutes, and then I’m coming in after you.”

I leaned over the console and kissed him. I felt his lips turn up into a smile as he cupped my face and pulled me closer.

“If you kiss me again, I’ll drop it to ten minutes. Hurry up,” he teased after we had pulled away from each other.

I gave him a grin before I stepped out of the car. As soon as I started walking toward the house, my smile faded, and I felt the anger from earlier return. I stopped and stared at the front door. The man behind this door was my physical embodiment of evil, of hopelessness. He was my own personal hell.

Before I could change my mind, I pounded my fist against the door several times. I stepped back and waited. Finally, the door opened, and there he stood in all of his * glory.

I felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on me as I looked at the man who had taken everything from me. He’d taken my childhood, my mother’s love, my pride, my dignity, my self-worth…everything. The only things he’d ever given me were anger and hatred. He’d twisted me until those emotions were all I could focus on. When I’d left this house so many years ago, I’d been filled with so much hate. I’d hated myself and my life so much that I ran away from it all. If it hadn’t been for Eric, Adam, and Drake, I would have been consumed by it. This man would have destroyed me.

He looks so much older, I thought as we stared at each other, and so much weaker.

“Jade,” he said after a moment of hesitation.

“David.” My voice held barely controlled rage. I wasn’t calm or collected like I’d wanted to be. No, seeing him brought out the monster inside of me, and she was begging to be let loose.

“What do you want?” His voice held absolutely no emotion at all. He used the same tone that he would use to speak to a stranger.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” I asked sarcastically.

He stepped out of the way and gestured for me to enter. I walked past him, careful to never turn my back to him. I didn’t trust him. He closed the door behind me. I waited until he turned to face me to do what I’d wanted to do for years. I drew back and punched him as hard as I could. He stumbled back as blood started to trickle from his nose. It looked like years of pounding the shit out of my drums had come with another perk. I could hit as hard as some men.

Instead of feeling better after hitting him, I only felt angrier. Before I could even think about what I was doing, I hit him again. He hadn’t even tried to block me. Years of pent-up anger and frustration were unleashed on him as I hit, clawed, and kicked every inch of his body that I could reach. Finally, I brought my knee up and hit him in the groin. He dropped to his knees and cupped himself as he moaned in agony. I felt a sick sense of satisfaction as I watched him suffer.

I stared at him, taking in all the damage I’d inflicted upon him. Blood was running from his nose and his lips. His left eye was already starting to bruise. I couldn’t help but feel pride over that. I’d hit him that f*cking hard.

“How does that feel?” I finally asked.

“Keep going, Jade. Don’t stop until you feel better,” he said as he looked up at me. Again, there was no emotion in his voice at all.

He was acting like I hadn’t just kicked the living shit out of him. I knew he had to be hurting, but his voice had given no indication that he was.

“What the f*ck is wrong with you?” I shouted.

He wasn’t supposed to just lie there and take it. He was supposed to fight back. He was supposed to tell me how worthless I was. He was supposed to give me fuel so that I could light him on fire. I wanted him to tell me how pathetic I was, so I could shove the last six years of my life in his face.

“Why aren’t you fighting back, you f*cking *?” I asked when he hadn’t answered my first question.

He looked up at me, and I gasped in shock when I saw tears filling his eyes.

“I have nothing left to fight for.”

I dropped down to my knees, so we were eye level. Tears leaked from his eyes and ran down his cheeks as he met my gaze. This wasn’t the man who had abused me for years. No, the man in front of me was broken. Even his body was slowly wasting away. His hair was now completely gray, and his skin was hanging off of his frail frame. But his eyes did me in. There was nothing in them besides pain. The anger I’d grown up with was nowhere to be found. I felt my own anger drain from my body. There was nothing here to be angry at. There was nothing here, period. This man, whoever he was now, was an empty shell. Nothing I’d wanted to do to him would give me satisfaction. The f*cker had taken my revenge from me.

“What happened to you?” I whispered.

“Your mother,” he said, sorrow thickening his voice.