8. Sebastian
CHAPTER 8
SEBASTIAN
I t’s a fucking miracle I make it out of that room without destroying every piece of furniture, without taking her by the throat and fucking her into submission. The harder she fights, the more I want to exert dominance and control over her, but there is no room for control in a safe relationship.
I know this, and yet I can’t seem to let go.
I’m not even angry the memories from that night have resurfaced. I always intended to tell her the truth when the time was right. If anything, I’m relieved. It’s one less lie, one less thing I have to pretend didn’t happen. I had imagined the moment she would remember so many times, but it never played out like this. It could be worse, I guess.
She could remember the whole night, everything that happened…but she doesn’t. She doesn’t know the truth. I grit my teeth against the pressure of defeat.
If she thinks she hates me now, I can’t imagine how she’ll feel once all her memories return. Fucking fuck!! I try to banish the thoughts, push them deep into the back of my mind as I stand outside the bedroom door, but the thing about anger is the more you try to swallow it down the harder it becomes to control, and I’ve reached my breaking point.
Two steps. That’s as far as I get before I snap. With a sweep of my hand I clear the table in the hall, sending whatever expensive decor is in my path of destruction onto the hardwood floor. Glass shatters, the shards scattering about the hallway and onto the rugs.
I stare at the destruction I’ve caused. Feel better? Fuck, no. I slam a closed fist against my forehead, trying to reason with myself.
For one second—one fucking second—I thought maybe... maybe she'd finally accept me. I expected her to be pissed off about the forced marriage part; that’s understandable. At some point I would’ve been able to woo her, seduce her into submission, but now… I can’t unsee the disgust in her eyes. It’s there every time her gaze meets mine. My heart squeezes in my chest. She doesn’t see me anymore; she sees a murderer.
Is that all I am? All I'll ever be now?
What’s the fucking point in trying to make her love me? Why not be the monster she thinks I am? I could do it. I could show her how good she had it, how merciful I was to her.
No.
I can’t.
I can’t do that to her. She deserves more than that.
I suck a ragged breath into my lungs, but it doesn’t even feel like I’m breathing.
Do it. Become the monster. Something dark and twisted inside whispers of my darkest fantasies.
Rage grips me by the throat, and my body is moving before I can think of the consequences. I grab the table and toss it across the floor, watching as it splinters into pieces. It’s not enough. It will never be enough. My chest heaves with the exertion of breathing. There's nothing left in my eyeline to destroy, but the rage still lingers. It’s a poison that will eat me alive if I don’t do something to stop it. Turning to the wall I clench my hand into a tight fist.
Monster. You’re a fucking monster. The words rattle around inside my head.
Rearing my arm back, I slam my fist into the wall. My knuckles ache at the impact, but I don’t stop. Not until my fist is through the drywall. There is no relief, no release of pressure. Instead my anger ripples through me just as hot as it was.
“Then what? How long until you kill me? I mean, just because I’m your wife, that doesn’t automatically make me safe.” Her words echo in my head. Does she really think so little of me? That I would save her, marry her, only to turn around and kill her? I don’t understand.
Maybe it's a result of her kidnapping, or maybe it's my own fault. I spent so fucking long trying to keep her at a distance, trying to stop myself from falling for her, stop myself from giving a shit about her that inevitably that’s what I did. It shouldn’t have taken until now for me to pull my head out of my ass. I should’ve proved to her what she meant to me earlier, proven I could keep her safe.
Now I have to start all over again. Prove no one else will ever make her fear for her life again, because if they do, I’ll kill them.
I hate myself—for making her fear me, for not telling her the truth. For fighting against fate. All at once the pain rushes out of me like lava spewing from a volcano. I’m out of control, spiraling. I slam my fists into the wall. My knuckles scream as the skin breaks, and red stains the pristine white paint. I smile. I fucking smile. Euphoria rushes through me at the sight of my own blood. Why do I crave this bite of pain? Pain reminds me I’m alive. I know I’m fucked up.
It’s only when a bone deep ache settles in my wrists and fingers that I pause. It doesn't matter. I’m just a killer. Lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to pull the trigger.
Murderer. Murderer.
It’s not like she knows the whole truth, that what I did was to save her. Save her from trauma, from pain. She should be thanking me, but instead all she sees is the darkness. The worst parts of me.
An agonized scream works its way up my throat, and I muffle it against the wall, against the cracks forming in front of my face. I'm still panting, and I try to slow my breathing, try to take a breath, but doing so forces tears to my eyes that I'm sure as shit not going to let fall.
How long until you kill me?
She has no idea how much it hurts me, how much it pains me that she thinks I will discard her, murder her and move on. The memory of that night plays like an old movie in my mind, hot metal mixed with the metallic scent of blood. The contents in my stomach churn. I look down at my fists and see more blood. There’s always blood on my hands. Either my own or someone else's. It doesn’t matter who it belongs to.
A small part of me wants to sink down onto the carpet and stay there. To end it all, because maybe she is better off without me. Maybe all I’ll ever be is a disgusting monster. I don’t fucking know. Yes, I do. That’s a lie. I'm as unable to walk away from her as I'm willing to let someone take her from me. Even if I ruin her...there's no way I’ll ever let her go. Not now, not ever.
Her fate was sealed the night she let me claim her.
The sound of a door opening and then closing pulls me from my thoughts. I know it’s the doctor without even having to look, but I do so anyway, glancing at him over my shoulder. He pauses for a moment, like he’s thinking about his next step, but then continues forward as if he’s made up his mind already, glass crunching beneath his shoes. I don’t want him to see me like this, not again.
It was bad enough the one time, but a second time… I don’t think so.
I can feel his eyes on me, roaming over my bruised knuckles. “She was very upset when you left, so I gave her another sedative, something small to take the edge off. She’ll be up in a few hours, and I think you should be in the room when she wakes up.”
I nod my head and turn to face the wall once again. He doesn't need to see the sheen in my eyes. The blood on my skin. Thankfully, he doesn’t press further and continues walking toward the stairs. As I breathe slowly, in through my nose and out through my mouth, the thundering of my own pulse in my ears lessens. The black cloud of anger dissipates, and I’m closer to baseline than I was five minutes ago. I have a huge mess to clean up but that doesn’t matter.
I look at the carnage I caused, and then for some reason my gaze is pulled back towards the stairs. It’s not so much a reason, as it is more a person. Bel stands on the landing of the stairs, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun and a frown settled on her lips. She’s wearing a thick sweater and blue jeans, and all I can think is how fucking different we are.
How maybe she’d also be better off without me.
Then I blink and watch as she transforms into this warrior of a woman who marches right up to me, her chin high, her jaw clenched tight .
What is she doing here?
I don't face her, not entirely. Turning, I put my back to the wall, but all that does is drag her attention to it. Does it really fucking matter? If she sees the destroyed furniture, or my bloody knuckles? Her opinion on this means shit, so no.
Lifting my head, I hold my chin high and proud and cross my arms over my chest defiantly. I don’t know what she expects of me, but she better lower her standards because all she will find is disappointment.
"What the fuck, Seb?"
I force a shallow breath into my lungs. "What do you want, Bel? In case the broken glass and destroyed furniture isn’t proof enough, now isn’t really a good time.”
Her gaze remains locked on mine until she spots my hands. I’m not sure what emotion I see there first. Sadness? Pity? Anger? She snatches my left hand and holds it up away from our bodies to get a better look.
The gold wedding band splattered with blood gleams in the dim lighting.
"You’re joking right? Because if this is true…if you really got married and didn’t tell me...” Disappointment bleeds into her words as she trails off, searching my face for the answers.
I don’t need her disappointment, pity, or anger. I don’t need anything.
I jerk my hand away. "It's none of your business."
"Excuse me, but I'm your sister. I have a right to know if my brother gets married. I can only imagine how epically pissed you would be if I ran off and hitched myself to Drew.”
“That would not be a wise decision.”
She rolls her eyes, “Double standard much?”
“Not even close to the same situation.”
I’m a key witness to her irritation, which intensifies the longer she stands here. “What the hell is going on with you? I can’t say I’m surprised when something crazy happens, but I was flabbergasted when Drew told me what you did tonight.. It’s not like you. Of all the people in my life, you’re the last one I thought would be capable of forcing someone to marry you. Is that even legal?”
I pin her with a look that makes lesser men run away. "Marriage is marriage; it doesn’t matter how it happened. All the government gives a shit about is if the paperwork is legal.”
She snorts at me, like I’ve said something ridiculous. "And what about what Elyse wants? You can't just marry a person because it's convenient for you. Women have rights. We have a say in what happens to us. This isn’t the 1900’s."
Does she see me as the monster too? My own sister? Fuck.
I can’t contain my anger, the sudden rush and need to release it. Without warning, I turn and punch the wall again so I don't lash out at her the way I want to. Never her. A soft gasp fills my ears but that’s the only evidence I have that she’s still standing there.
Chest heaving, I spit the words out. “What about this do you think is convenient, Bel? Falling in love with a woman who doesn't want me? Saving her from a life of sexual slavery and murder? What about any of this is convenient? You act like I wanted this! Like I would’ve done it this way from the start.” I turn to face her again, and the look in her eyes kills me. “Am I really a monster? Is that what you see me as? Sure, I got what I wanted. She’s mine, completely, and in every single way. But if I could’ve done it differently, I would've. I don’t care if she hates me as long as she’s safe.”
I risk glancing at her and watch as her throat moves when she swallows, tears swimming in her eyes.
"Stop this. You’re not a monster. No one said that. But your behavior, this self destructive path you’re on. Between the drinking, the girls, and now this... It hurts to watch you like this. I want to help you, but I don’t think I can.”
"Then stop trying and go home. Go enjoy your life with Drew. I don't fucking want you here," I snarl and take a threatening step towards her. I wouldn’t ever put my hands on her, but I won’t let her stand here and watch me implode on myself, either. If she won’t listen to my demands then maybe her body's reaction to fear will help her.
Out of the corner of my eye I spot Drew stepping onto the landing. His features are pinched tight, giving nothing away. I hate how calm he is, how unaffected by me he appears. More than that, I’m looking for a fight.
"Dude, you can talk to me however you want, but don’t talk to her like that,” he says, tone low and tight when he finally reaches us.
The switch in my brain flips.
Letting the anger guide me, I swing at him. He dodges me, but I don’t miss the look of disbelief that contours his face.
“What the fuck?” He mutters.
I twist enough to get in another shot, and this time my fist connects with his cheek. The sting across my knuckles is euphoric, overshadowing the pain. I want it, I need it. Drew stumbles back on his feet, and I don’t give him the opportunity to retaliate.
Rushing him, I slam my shoulder into his stomach and wrap an arm around his waist, attempting to bring him to the ground, but Drew’s far more agile than I expect. He rolls onto his feet the second we hit the floor, then he’s on me.
"Stop it! Stop it right now!" Bel yells from a safe distance away.
At least she's smart enough to stay out of it.
Drew curses and drags me off the floor, slamming me into the closest wall. The impact sends an ache through my limbs.
"Have you lost your fucking mind? Nevermind, don’t answer that. The question I should be asking is what the hell is wrong with you?”
I can’t tell him the truth. Not without violence. So I fight. I grit my teeth and shove at his chest, but he doesn’t budge, doesn’t even flinch, which isn’t surprising. Drew’s tolerance to pain and violence outweighs most of us.
“Let go of me!” I snarl.
“Not until you calm the fuck down,” he counters, which only makes me push harder. Grunting, he adds, “I can hold you here all fucking day, dickhead. Pull yourself together, and then I’ll let you go."
It takes a second, but I finally find light at the end of the tunnel to breathe through the anger. Only then does he loosen his grip, allowing me to shove his arms away.
Backing away slowly, he lifts his hands as if to say he means no harm. "Care to tell me what the fuck the problem is? You've been out of control since that PI called and told me to come and get your ass."
I stalk away, needing distance from them, from Ely, from myself. Something I'll never get. I don’t want to talk about my problems. I want to forget them.
"He might’ve asked you to come and get me, but I didn’t ask you to come here. You weren’t invited into my house, so get out.”
"I wasn’t aware I needed an invitation to come to my own house," Bel snaps from beside me.
I turn to glare at her. "It's your house now?"
She glares in return. "Say all the ugly things you need to say. It won’t change my mind.” She takes a step toward me. "Nor will it make me love you any less."
“I'm not a good person, Bel. I didn't want you to find out, not like this, but I'm a fucking menace, a monster that ravages and destroys all the good in my life.”
She rolls her eyes. "Are you done yet? You act like I didn’t know the person you were before we discovered we were siblings. Like I had no idea that you were an asshole. All you spoiled rich boys are, but that doesn’t mean anything. I can love you despite the darkness.
She gets closer, and I retreat. I can’t bear the thought of her touching me. Not now, maybe not ever again. "No. Don't touch me." I whirl around, ready to make a run for it, but Drew anticipates my next move and comes to stand behind me blocking my escape.
"Don't touch me, Bel. I refuse to let my ugliness bleed out onto you.”
She doesn't listen, of course, and takes my hands in hers, blood transferring to her pale skin. "Do I agree with how you did it? No. But the fact you are doing so much to keep her protected says something about you, Seb."
A humorless laugh escapes me. "What? That I’m an unhinged bastard who doesn't give a shit about what others want?"
She shakes her head, letting loose a small smile. "No, Dick. You're a good person. Even if you do questionable things."
I stare at her, my sister, my last living blood relative, and I can't stand in front of the love and kindness radiating off of her.
I pull away, only to bump into Drew's chest. "Leave me alone. Both of you, please, go away."
Bel takes that as her invitation to get closer. "I'm not going anywhere." She glances over my shoulder. "You?"
I feel Drew shrug behind me. "Nah, I kinda like it here."
I hear a scuffle on the stairs and glance back to spot Lee and Aries leaning against the railing like they don't have a care in the world. Great, an even bigger audience to my meltdown.
"I said go," I tell them, all of them. I’m exhausted both physically and mentally.
Bel gives me another sad smile. "Still not leaving. None of us are. Not until you and Ely are taken care of. We’re family, and this is what family does."
I attempt once more to escape, but they block me in, and I'm not quite willing to put Bel on her ass. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt her, and I know she knows that.
"I can't," I whisper this time.
She cups me by the cheeks. "Then don't. Don't say a word. Don't ask for help. Don’t do anything. All I’m asking is that you don’t run. Let us be here with you, for you. Whatever is going on between you and Ely, I know you'll fix it. You're as hard-headed as your friends, but you love with your entire heart, and if Ely loves you like I know she does, she'll realize that.”
I stare at her, then at Drew, Aries, Lee...all of them. And something in my chest breaks open. Bel takes the back of my neck and pulls me into a hug before the tears start to fall, and Drew wraps his arms around both us, holding us, me together. A moment later Lee, and Aries join in, all of them standing here with me, watching me break.
If only they knew that I’ll never be the man they think I am.