Chapter 27 Emilio
Scoffing, I stare at my bandaged wrists in sinking hatred. I can’t even kill myself properly. A failure. That’s all I am.
The door opens but I don’t bother to glance up, especially when I recognize the click of high heels. I don’t want to see Sarah’s disappointed face, or worse, her pity. Pity I don’t deserve. Anger…hatred. Those are what I deserve. Nothing more, nothing less.
With a sigh, she sits next to me and lightly touches my arm. I react swiftly, despite feeling as if the meds are still weighing me down. I jerk my arm away as if it’s been burned and curl into a ball, trying to hide, to escape, even though death has eluded me.
Fuck. I’m supposed to be Death and I can’t even orchestrate my own. Pitiful. My Master would be so ashamed… Not that I even have him anymore. Tossed away. Forgotten. Pointless.
“I need you to talk to me, Lio.” Her voice is soft. Soothing. I recoil anyway. It’s not the voice I associate with her—the deadly snark is missing.
I curl up tighter, pressing my hands against my ears to drown out whatever she may say next.
If only I could drown out the words inside my head too.
The ones that mock me. That remind me I’m worthless.
That an innocent died for me. That I fucking hurt him beforehand, in the worst possible way.
And that I willingly tortured my stabby soulmate…
Pain crashes against me as the memories speed up, flashing through my consciousness, burrowing into me like a splinter that can’t be removed.
Before. After. When. It all mixes together.
Peter pops up. Disappears. The gunshot wound.
The pain. Losing Benjamin. Finding him. Being torn apart. It just keeps going.
I cry out, my fury mixing with the guttural misery of being thrown into a churning ocean of thoughts that do nothing but remind me of what is best forgotten…best removed…and if I can’t cleave them from my brain, I have no option but to find a way to disappear, to leave—permanently.
Hands grasp at me, pulling my arms. I blink. Confused, I whimper, staring up at Sarah and Doc. Rapid words are spoken that I can’t make out. Why is there blood on their hands?
The needle Soren slips Doc brings me the welcoming coolness of deadening emotions. Fuck. Why am I allowed to slip away when it’ll only be momentarily? I deserve to be gone forever…not this temporary reprieve.
“How was I supposed to know he’d dig his fucking nails into his ears?” Sarah hisses at Doc.
I have a moment to be thankful I didn’t lose my hearing, before my heart sinks.
I didn’t even realize… Fuck. I’m spinning.
Spinning so far away. The drug both weighs me down and provides a buoyancy…
a confusing feeling where nausea sneaks up on me.
Closing my eyes, I ignore their fighting, begging for the darkness to overwhelm me again.
“Stop it!”
I gasp, hearing that voice is a lifeline. It’s a way back. If I’m allowed to have it. But I’m not. My Owner and Daddy would never forgive me. I whimper, mouthing ‘please’, as a different. Set of hands find me, soothing me.
“I have you, Caro. I won’t let you go.”
Tears finally break through, even as I stifle the fear, the guilt, and the fact I’m not allowed to have his touch. His words are low promises, ones I know he can’t keep. Still the comfort warms me, touching my frozen, shattered heart.
I let it calm the crashing waves that have been tearing me apart, and it soothes me as I fall into the darkness of drug-aided slumber.
His voice. His hands.
Master. My Master…