Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMMETT
There was a shift last night between Blair and I . She felt it. She finally felt it, I know she did. The relief I saw in her hazel eyes in being close to me.
Her thoughts of trouble and terror, soothed simply by my presence. I made sure she returned home safely and spent the night outside of her window. Regardless of the late November chill, I was insistent on keeping watch.
I’m exhausted, but there’s no length I wouldn’t go to protect her. Blair had explained what happened on the way back to her house. With all of the disappearances lately, I understood her fear. Thankfully , she’s been sharing her location with me since I first put my number into her phone.
She doesn’t know she is and it's better that way. I need to make sure I can get to her at all times. Last night was an example of that.
But this morning, I woke up to a text from daddy fucking dearest requesting my presence again. How many times does he need to c all me into his office to tell me what a useless piece of shit I am? Once a day for the first eighteen years was enough, now it’s a bit excessive. I fucking get it.
Throwing on black slacks and a matching dress shirt, I slip on my shoes and walk out the door.
I run up the steps of the main building, striding through the doors and around the corner that leads to the hallway which houses his office. My steps falter and my blood runs cold.
Down the hall, I spot a familiar head of icy white hair. My heart rate picks up and I don’t know where to go. My feet are glued to the floor and bile rises in my throat.
I can't draw in a single breath of air, and black starts to seep into my vision. The thumping of my erratic heart begins to be overpowered by the ringing that assaults my ears. My fist clenches and unclenches repeatedly, as I fight to control the rage that boils inside of me. Fuck .
FUCK .
I have to get out of here.
I spin on my heel and dash out the door. I run until I’m out of breath, until I have nowhere left to go, until all I hear around me is silence. I do my best to manage the mania that threatens to overtake me. Everything is a blur and before I know it, I'm at my front door, turning the key in the lock, and walking into my home.
I don't register the sounds of my roommates’ voices as I take big strides across the house and to my room. Stumbling through the doorway, I fall back against the door as it closes.
I slide down as thoughts of my childhood slither into my head. Flickering through like a slideshow, each memory digging the knife deeper into my chest .
My breathing starts to come in heavier pants as the feeling of unwanted hands creeps up my body. The ringing gets louder.
And louder.
And fucking louder.
Until it's all I hear. Until I've been consumed by the black ink covering my vision. My teeth begin to chatter and a tingly feeling shoots down my back. The monster locked deep inside of me is gnawing at the confines of his cage.
He was one of them. One of the men my father let into our home after my mother’s death. One of the men that ruined me when I was just a young boy. Not only was he one of them, he was the worst fucking one.
I can't seem to decipher what’s reality and what isn't, as phantom hands continue to touch me, leaving filth in their path. Their hands leave my skin but the burn of their touch remains. Marking me forever as theirs, ruining me for eternity.
Fuck .
FUCK !
FUCK ! FUCK ! FUCK !
Lifting off the floor, I pace my room, probably looking like a wild animal who has just been caught and is trying to free itself. My hair is disheveled and my fists haven’t stopped clenching. I look over and spot myself in the mirror.
The shared eyes with my father look back at me, harboring my pain. Before I can process what I'm doing my arm is reeling back and I'm slamming my fist against the mirror.
Shards of glass penetrate my skin and my knuckles split. Blood drips down my hand and I repeat the process until there's nothing left. It's now that I wished I could've gotten the soft, blue e yes of my mother. The love behind her sky blue gaze.
The reminder of her causes my thoughts to switch over to a time when my mother was alive. I felt nothing but loved by her. I remember a faint sadness following her around, but when it was just us, the world was quiet and everything was right.
Everything was okay.
I battled with my emotions towards her for a long time after her death. I was angry that she selfishly took her life and left me with a monster lurking in our home. She never would’ve allowed those people under our roof. The demons that hide behind their masks didn't shed their facade until after she had left this world, and me, behind.
I'm no longer harboring that anger towards her. Now , I sometimes wish that I could join her in her peaceful slumber. Anything to escape the claws of my past that sink deep.
The day I found my mom flashes to the forefront of my mind. Her lifeless body dangling from our balcony. The hands that once held me were blue from the lack of blood flow, her feet matching them in color. Her opened, bloodshot eyes felt like they were peering straight into my soul. The usual sparkle within them had dimmed.
A part of me left with her that day. Now , I’m forced to deal with the consequences of others' selfish acts. I need to drown these thoughts out before they drown me. Flinging open my door, I stomp down the hallway, into the common room.
From the corner of my eye, I see the concern etched on my roommates’ faces. I can't look at them. I don't want them to see the secr ets that I harbor. They wouldn’t understand. Reaching the kitchen, I yank down the first bottle of vodka I find and start chugging from it. The sting soothes my throat and brings a welcoming feeling of numbness with every trickle down my throat.
“ Yo Emmett , you good?” Grimm questions while trying to grab the bottle from my grip. I pull back and move around him.
“ Fuck off, Grimm . Now is not the time. I don't need you questioning me.” I spit.
Plopping down on the couch, I take another swig from the bottle. Warmth from the alcohol starts to mix with the hatred in my bloodstream. My thoughts of my disgust start to shift to thoughts of my pretty little obsession. Anything with warmth reminds me of her.
The positive thoughts surrounding her cause my smile to drop from my face. She's too pure. I’ll only taint her with my filth. I couldn’t make my mother happy enough to stay. I failed at making my father happy. What have I done to deserve Blair ?
Nothing .
Absolutely , nothing.
Pulling out my phone, I click on her name and send her a message. I know for sure she would deny me when she knows how filthy I am, how ruined. I go to take a sip of the once heavy bottle and realize it's empty. Huh . Letting go, it drops to the floor with a thud, and I text her.
Me: I need to see you
Me: Blair, I’m fucked up, I don’t deserve you.
Me: I’m so sorry I forced my way into your life just to ruin you.
Me: That wasn’t my intention, my little obsession. I wanted to give you everything, but I don't know how to do that.
Me: I’m sorry.
I squint at my phone waiting for a response. The letters are a jumbled blur but I can see that she read my messages. She read them and hasn't texted me back yet. Great . She must think I'm a broken fucking mess.
“ FUCK !” I shout, throwing my phone at the wall. The only sound in the house is the device as it clatters to the floor. My roommates are still staring at me but I don’t fucking care.
I get up and head back to the kitchen for a new bottle when Grimm stops me, planting his hand on my chest, attempting to keep me from self-destructing. I know he cares but at this moment, I fucking don’t. All I want is Blair .
“ Dude , no. What the fuck is going on?” He asks. Irritated , I push his hand off of my chest.
“ Grimm , seriously. Fuck off.” I storm out of the kitchen. Stopping at where my phone lays, I pick it up and head into my room, slamming the door behind me.
Fuck him. Fuck James . Pulling out a speaker, I connect my phone and blast music to keep my mind occupied, One Step Closer by Linkin Park , starts playing and I scoff. How fucking perfect .
I walk over to my nightstand and slide out a half drank bottle of whiskey, left behind at one of our parties. Twisting off the cap, I bring the bottle to my lips and chug. The amber liquid burns my throat, adding fuel to my fire.
The only thing that can save me from my self-made hell, is my little obsession.