Echo(22)

“You don’t mean that,” I whisper, pissing him off even more as he grabs a fist full of my hair and snaps my head back. My neck stretches, sparks of pain shooting through the tendons, and the chrrrick of my hair, popping out from the roots, ripping flesh along with it, sears my scalp in pricks of fire. I scream, but he doesn’t let go.

“You’ve got balls, darling. Coming here, knowing one phone call is all it would take for you to be arrested and extradited.”

“Why haven’t you done it then?” I question through clenched teeth, and he yanks harder, ripping out more hair from my scalp. Gasping in agony, I push him, “Tell me why.”

“You think it’s because I care for you? You’re f*cking delusional.”

“Then why?”

“Because seeing your face makes me want to kill you. I thought you’d be smart and leave, never come back, yet here you are,” he says.

“You won’t hurt me.”

The sudden force of his hand shocks me, and I scream out in pure white, heated pain. My hand flies to the back of my head, trembling as I touch the bare flesh. Tears fall, and when I turn to look at him, he’s holding a chunk of my hair. I can feel the blood trickling down the back of my neck. He stares—no emotion—while my body pangs in agony, but I’ve dealt with pain and abuse my whole life. I’ve been beaten, whipped, tied up for days, and one thing I’ve learned: physical pain is much more tolerable than mental pain.

Bruises fade. Blood dries. Scabs heal.

Sucking in a deep breath, I bring my hand in front of me and it’s covered in blood.

“You won’t hurt me,” I repeat, and it’s now that I see the torment in his eyes. There’s no doubt he’s furious, but there’s a void, a hollowness that didn’t used to be there.

“You sucked the life right out of me. I don’t give a shit about you anymore,” he says and then drops the lock of my hair on the ground. “I pray you put a bullet in your head.”

I let him go without saying anything as he turns to get back in his car. I bite my tongue, knowing I’ll only make him feel worse if I continue to speak. I’ll give him a reprieve, but I won’t back down. I’ll find a way to talk to him, to explain everything. I’ve manipulated my way around obstacles in the past; I can do it again.

After I watch him drive past me and the gates close behind him, I walk to the side of the road and scoop up a handful of snow. My body tenses in preparation for the pain, and my hand shakes as I reach back. Flinching, I slather the snow on my bloody scalp, and hiss against the sting that singes my head.

I scoop up another handful and pack it against my wound, and once my body stops quaking and numbs, I slip into my car and drive back.



“WHAT HAPPENED?” ISLA questions urgently as I’m walking up the stairs.

“Excuse me?” I respond when I turn around.

Coming up the steps, she looks worried. “There’s blood all over your back, lassie.”

“Oh, I . . . ”

“What’s going on? Are you hurting yourself?”

“No,” I quickly blurt out.

“Do you need to call someone? The police?”

“No. No, I’m fine,” I defend. “It’s fine.”

Her eyes narrow in annoyance as I avoid her questioning.

“It’s not fine. Now you tell me what’s going on or I’ll call the police myself.”

“No police. Please,” I tell her, and decide to just lie. “It was a clumsy accident. I slipped on some ice and hit my head as I fell.”

She gives me a suspicious look before nodding. “You should get yourself checked out by a doctor.”

“If it starts to bother me, I will. It looks much worse than it is,” I try assuring her.

Once I’m in my room, I head into the bathroom to check out the damage. The blood mats my hair, and the strands are dried to the wound. I peel some of the hair away, and it rips the forming scab causing my head to bleed again. I know I could wet a towel and clean myself up, but I relish the pain. It distracts and takes away from my annihilated heart.

The misery inside of me swells and grows, so I continue ripping the scab apart, pulling my hair, and focusing on that pain instead of my internal pain. I can’t release it, but I can mask it, and so I do. When I feel the heat of blood seeping out, there’s a release of euphoria that delights me. I savor this momentary distraction and enjoy the blood tickling my skin as it rolls down my neck. It’s all I focus on as I sigh in relief and close my eyes.