Page 28 of Beautiful Disaster

He instantly raises his hands and stands. When he does, I take the blanket and rush to the room I’m supposed to stay in and lock it.

I rest my back on the door and fall on my ass. I gather my legs and sob into my knees.

It was supposed to be a fun weekend, learning to trust and get control back. Instead, I’ve ruined everything over a fucking shower.

After using several techniques my doctor taught me, I try to calm the fuck down.

Find five things I can see. There are mountains in the distance. Snow is still falling from the sky. The bed against the wall looks like a cloud. The painting above it. It’s abstract and gives most of the color in the room. The rug in the center is Persian and looks expensive.

Four things I can touch. The knitted blanket is soft. The wood floor is hard and cold. My hair is wet. My skin is clammy.

Three things I can hear. My own breathing. My heart pounding in my ears. The gentle hum of the heater.

I don’t reach the last two. I’ve stopped crying, and my heart isn’t slamming my chest anymore.

Now that I’m calming down, I can reflect on what just happened. I’d suffered three traumatic instances while living at that fucking motel from hell. Yeah, I suffered a lot, but there were three that completely changed me.

Romeo getting hurt. Being abandoned by the only man who’d ever been kind to me. Then getting cut by Tito, which was worse than the rape. Tito’s punishment kept me silent and compliant for the rest of the time I lived in that motel from hell until we finally escaped.

The shower just brought all that pain back. Being bound to Tito’s bed. He’s drinking straight out of the bottle. Wobbly on his legs. Grinning maniacally. Sweaty. Gross. Hateful. He has a knife in his hand. I’ve peed the bed. He sees it and is enraged. The knife slowly inserts into my stomach, and he slowly drags it down and down. The smell of blood makes me want to throw up. The fucking pain. So much pain. I scream.

It’s amazing I even lived through that.

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t.

I’m suddenly exhausted. I should probably talk to Mason, but I can’t right now. After crawling into the bed, I sink into its softness and pull the covers over my head. It doesn’t take long for sleep to consume me.

It’s dark out when I wake up. The sky has cleared, and the moon is out, casting a gray glow in the room.

Fuck, did I sleep all day?

Double fuck. Mason.

He’s probably going to send me home for good. He’s going to be afraid to touch me ever again.

My feet on the cold floor make me shiver. I’m still naked, so I open my bag and pull out a pair of sweats and a hoodie. I don’t bother looking at myself in the mirror. I’ll just hate what I see.

As I pull on my socks, I’m growing more pissed by the second. Pissed at myself and my reaction. Pissed at my past life. Pissed at Tito still fucking haunting me.

I open the bedroom door and swallow my gasp. I find Mason leaning against the wall, legs stretched out, arms folded, and his chin pressed to his chest, lightly snoring.

He kept watch over me while giving me my space. I’m not sure why that brings tears to my eyes again. It’s… fucking touching.

I glance around the open home. It’s all dark, much like my mood, but the weight of it is lifting at the sight of him there—my protector.

I sit and cross my legs on the floor, brushing fallen bangs away from his face. “Hey…”

Mason instantly sits up, looking around until his eyes land on mine. “Jinx.”

“I’m okay,” I say before he asks.

He rubs his face and groans. “Christ, you scared the piss out of me.”

“I know. I scared the piss out of myself. God, I was far from prepared for that shitshow.”

He reaches for me, but snatches his hand back, resting it on his lap.

“You can touch me now.”