Chapter 26 #2
“Do you feel up to discussing why that phrase caused such a strong reaction?”
My knee bounced and the anger was already right there beneath my skin, burning me up from the inside out.
“No.”
“Okay. Is there something else you want to talk about today?”
I shook my head. No way in fucking hell was I going to go through that list again in just a few days.
Sarah’s lips thinned like she was slightly disappointed but nodded.
“Okay. Just reach out if you change your mind and want to meet me again before next week.”
I stood up and made my way out of her office, more than ready to be alone.
Hell, the way I needed it, the way my whole body felt like it was on fucking fire.
I’d already broken my streak, was already a fucking disappointment, so why the hell would I keep trying when I clearly wasn’t going to be able to stop for long.
◆◆◆
My hand slipped at the sound of a knock on my front door, digging the blade deeper than intended.
“Fuck,” I hissed, watching the blood pool and well over the edges of the split skin. I quickly stood, only stretching the skin more and causing the blood to stream across the other small cuts I’d made and down my thigh. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Another knock had my heart leaping into my throat. Fuck.
I hurriedly bunched some toilet paper against my leg, sopping up the blood streaking down my leg, and hobbled over to my nightstand.
“It’s me, Enoch!”
I let out a rough sigh, staring down at the mess. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I raced back to the bathroom, scrounging for a bandage under the sink and hastily unwrapped it, pressing it to my skin.
I flushed the bloody toilet paper and shoved the razor and open package of disposables underneath my bathroom sink.
My phone began vibrating against the bathroom counter and I grimaced as Enoch’s name flashed across the screen.
I swiped to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, why aren’t you answering the door?”
My stomach flipped. “Um, I’m in the bathroom. I’ll be there in the just a minute.”
There was a beat of silence and sweat pricked my underarms. Why the fuck did I give him the code to the door?
“Oh. Okay.”
I ended the call, sighing with exhaustion and quickly washed my hands. After shoving my legs into a pair of sweats, I finally answered the door.
Enoch shoved up from where he was leaning against the door frame and shot me a grin.
“Hi, baby,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to my lips.
My body sagged, my brain and heart short-circuiting at the spiral of emotions I’d just gone through.
With his mouth still on mine, he walked us backward into my apartment, shutting the door behind him. His hands weaved into the hair at the base of my skull, and I opened my mouth, letting his tongue explore.
A shiver skated down my spine and my hands were on him, sliding down hard chest, eager to feel him closer. My heart pounded against my chest as I slipped my hands down to the waistband of his jeans.
I’d never done this. Never initiated this level of intimacy.
Enoch’s breath hitched as I fumbled with the button. He abruptly stopped kissing me, one hand grasping both of my wrists and holding them away from his body.
My stomach dropped. What the fuck am I doing? He doesn’t want me like that.
“Baby, you’re shaking.”
My brows knitted with confusion as I studied my hands, noting that they were in fact trembling.
“I’m all for continuing whatever it was you were about to do, but I don’t want you doing something you’re not ready for.”
I stepped back, pulling my hands from his grasp and swallowed.
“Right,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. I looked up to find him studying me intensely. “What?”
His eyes narrowed and he flicked his gaze over my body slowly.
“You seem…off.”
I clenched my jaw with a glare. “Off?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “How did it go with your therapist?”
“Fine,” I gritted out, stepping back into the kitchen to earn some distance.
He closed his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. When he opened them, his gaze held sympathy as he smiled sadly. “Where?”
I didn’t budge.
“Where did you hurt yourself?”
Fuck off. I’m not your problem.
He took a step toward me, and I realized my mistake. I was cornered. That trapped feeling had me taking a shaky breath, glancing over his shoulder at the only exit, unless I decided to jump over the kitchen counter.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’m not mad.”
I licked my lips, fingers itching to swipe across the fresh cut on my thigh for a hit of something more than the dull throb. Something to ground me. Something to get me through the next minute.
Enoch was in my space, all the distance between us gone and I bit down into my lip, hard.
I flinched as his hand reached for my face, but he didn’t stop. Enoch pulled my lip from between my teeth, softly stroking the abused flesh of my bottom lip.
I tried to focus on the throbbing pain in my thigh, but his stare was penetrating.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please, baby.”
I swallowed, heart thrumming, guilt and shame curdling in my stomach. I slowly raised the hem of my long-sleeved shirt until I slipped it over my head, revealing my arm.
Enoch’s eyes scanned the scabbed nail marks on my bicep and nodded.
“I didn’t even know I was doing it until it was done,” I mumbled as his thumbs skating over the marks.
I met his stare and it's like he could see right through me.
He raised a brow. “Show me.”
I closed my eyes and pushed down the waistband of my sweatpants.
I kept my eyes closed as he knelt and gently removed the bandage from my leg. He sighed.
Weak. Weak fucking puta.
“This is deep, Shy.”
I resisted the urge to scream at him to leave me alone and took another shaky, long breath.
“You need to stop the bleeding,” he said. “Let me get some—”
“Stop!” My eyes flew open to find him staring up at me. I swallowed, guilt for yelling burning like acid in my throat. “I’ll do it.”
He flicked his gaze back down to my leg and that’s when I realized what he meant. It was bleeding, a lot, streaming down my leg and soaking the waistband of the sweats above my knee.
I shook my head at myself, raking my hands through my hair in frustration.
Enoch didn’t say anything, just stood and swiftly lifted me by the waist and propped me onto the counter beside the kitchen sink.
He reached for the paper towels and rolled several over his hand before tearing it free and pressing it against the cuts.
He placed my hand over the towels to replace his.
“Sit. I’ll be right back.”
I hung my head in defeat, cursing myself for letting him inside. I knew he was going to find the disassembled razor and the rest of the package still intact. Why the fuck was he putting up with me?
He came back with a package of gauze and band-aids. He dumped the box of bandages on the counter beside me and shuffled through them, his mouth pursed in a tight line.
“You really need some butterfly strips. Or stitches.”
He dragged his eyes up to mine, silencing my retort. I huffed, slowly pulling back the paper towels. I grimaced at the messy wound that was still bleeding and quickly replaced the towels to apply more pressure.
“You’re mad,” I muttered, the dark energy radiating off of him causing my shoulders to curl inward.
“No,” he breathed, his hand pulling my face up to meet his. “I hate seeing you in pain.”
“I…” The words were there, sitting on my tongue like a grenade. My heart raced and Enoch’s brown eyes held my stare. I swallowed, an attempt to get the rock out of my throat. “I’m sorry.”
My heart raced, a surge of adrenaline causing my breath to stutter. I braced for a punishment that I knew Enoch would never dole out but couldn’t get my body to realize.
“You can start again, right now.”
He said it with confidence, like he was certain I wasn’t going to fail despite the evidence all over my body.
“This doesn’t change the fact that you wanted to stop. But you have to want to, have to want to stop more than you want to continue hurting yourself.”
I shook my head against his hold on my face.
“I know,” he said, his brows raising with emphasis. “It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Okay?”
I swallowed, soaking up the bright hope shining in his eyes.
“Yeah. Okay.”
He nodded.
“We’re going all in, baby. What’s the plan here? Did your therapist give you any information on coping mechanisms or how to rewire your brain to stop the addictive behavior? How are we gonna keep you accountable? Body checks? Do I need to sweep the house for sharps every night?”
I scowled. “Why do you sound like you just spent this whole time Googling how to fix me?”
Enoch shook his head. “I’m not trying to fix you, baby. I’m trying to help you heal. You want that, don’t you? You want to stop?”
“Yes!” I took a breath to control my emotions. I didn’t mean to lash out at him. “Yes. But I don’t need you to take on my shit when you’ve got your own.”
“You’re wrong. This,” he gently stroked the hand holding the paper towel, “isn’t some shit I’m ‘taking on’. It’s your battle. I’m here to hold your hand through it. To hold you during your bad days and to cheer you on during the good.”
Enoch held my stare for a moment.
“So, tell me. What’s the replacement? What are you doing to do when you feel the urge?”
I let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. My therapist talked about holding ice cubes or finding a distraction, but when I feel…”
I trailed off, closing my eyes. Enoch stroked my cheek.
“What’s it feel like? When you want to cut.”
I groaned, uncomfortable with all the questions.
“I just want to scream. It’s like there’s so much pent up inside and I want to feel something else. I want to feel better. I want the endorphins, the rush, the escape.”
“Okay. Okay,” I opened my eyes at his thoughtful tone. “How about this? How about you hit something? Like a pillow, or we can get you a punching bag for your apartment. We’ve got a heavy bag in the garage you can have. Or we can put on some gloves, and you can go to town on me.”
I stared at him, not sure how to feel about all these new ideas. I didn’t want to make my pain his, I didn’t want to share this with him. It was mine, and I could cope with it myself.
“Or, what about a stress ball or some kind of fidget? You like to clench your fists, I know that much. Instead of clenching your own fists, squeeze the shit out of my hand. How does that sound?”
He studied my face, eyes bouncing between my own with a hopeful frenetic energy radiating off of him. Fuck, he’s serious. He wants me to take this seriously. He believes that I can actually stop.
“Yeah. I could try it,” I shrugged.
“Alright. That’s a start,” he said, leaning down to kiss me. God, I don’t deserve him. He’s too good.
I kissed him back, using my free hand to hold the back of his neck. He groaned, stepping between my legs to deepen the kiss. He pulled back enough to speak against my lips.
“Come stay with me,” he whispered, breathless. He kissed me again before continuing. “Let me help. Use me. Let me be your distraction. The first week is always the hardest, but we’re going to get there.”
“I hate it,” I whispered back with a whine. “I hate that I crave it so badly I can’t think about anything else.”
His lips were back on mine, hands tangling in my hair. Desire and awareness of my nearly naked state had my clenching my thighs against his legs.
“I know,” he breathed against my mouth. “You’ve had years to train your mind to crave it.”
“It’s not cocaine or alcohol. It shouldn’t be so hard.”
He nipped my bottom lip and pulled back. I blinked open my eyes to find him staring at me.
“Your brain doesn’t know the difference. You’ve conditioned yourself to receive a chemical high just like a substance. That’s an addiction, Shiloh. But you can break it.”
I ground my teeth. It wasn’t the same. I was just weak.
“Why are you so confident? You saw what I’m capable of!”
“I know exactly what you’re capable of doing when you’re upset.
I know how strong you are. And I also know that you’re capable of accepting help.
And that’s what you’re going to do because you want to stop.
I know it feels shitty, to ask for help.
I know, baby. It feels weak, it feels shameful, embarrassing…
but we weren’t designed to get through life alone.
Some things we need help with, and that’s okay. ”
My foot shook against the counter with agitation and Enoch sealed his lips against mine in a hard, hot kiss. I channeled my guilt, frustration, anger, and gratitude into the kiss. I love him.
The realization startled me. Of course I loved him, but…this felt dangerous. This felt like something else that was going to slip out of my hands. This felt like if I lost it my heart would stop beating.
Fuck.
I love him.
Enoch was becoming a mind reader because he was able to voice those three little words that I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the courage to say to him out loud. If I gave him my heart, then there was a chance for it to get ripped away from me.
“I love you,” he said.
“You’re insane,” I whispered, breathlessly, pushing his mouth back to mine with my grip on his neck.
“Insanely in love,” he chuckled, lips trailing across my jaw until his mouth hovered over my ear. “Say it. Ask for help.”
I shivered. “Help me.”
“Always.”
I love you, too.