“I’m sorry, Ivy,” Jared quickly apologizes and drops his head so he’s looking at his feet.
“I’m sorry too,” Tobias adds. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It’s just…” He looks past me, and not at me. Pursing his lips together, he furrows his brows. “I overacted.”
“You don’t say,” I bark at him. “You two are worse than chicks. The temper tantrums are enough to make me want to stay away from both of you.” I point between them.
“We’re sorry,” Tobias says again.
Breathing out, I step closer to them. “Next time you two have a disagreement, don’t involve me.”
“I promise not to ask him for a ride,” Jared jokingly says as he hooks his thumb toward Tobias.
Tobias’s mouth is pulled tight; his features tense. The look in his eyes betrays anger. He tightens his hands into fists, but sees my reaction to him and he loosens them. Something is going on with him, something he’s not willing to share.
The bell sounds and Jared animatedly chats about the crap night he had.
Tobias moves forward and slides my bag off my shoulder and onto his.
Huh, who would’ve thought chivalry is still alive. He leans into me, his warm breath touching my ear. “Sorry,” he whispers. This is heartfelt and real. It’s not said for the hell of saying it. He means every one of those five letters.
Turning, I give him a genuine smile and a small nod. It’s my way of accepting his apology.
Heading into the bathroom, I lock myself in the stall and pull my jeans down. I noticed during my last class that a bit of blood has seeped through my jeans. It was only a few drops, but it’s enough for me to notice.
Which means if I notice, then eventually someone else may notice too.
The Band-Aid has mostly come off, and there’s some dried blood on my thigh. “Ugh,” I grumble as I open my bag and get my emergency Band-Aids and dressings I keep packed in my purse. I was caught by Dad once before. He asked me why I had blood on the thigh of my jeans. I thought the wound had stopped bleeding, but it turned out my jeans rubbed against it and re-opened it. Since then, I’m sure to carry Band-Aids, butterfly strips, antibiotic ointment, and other first-aid supplies with me.
I’m also learning the more times I cut in the same spot, the skin takes longer and longer to heal. Thankfully I’m the only one to do the laundry at home. Dad would suspect something if he was to do the laundry, and I don’t want him to know. It would kill me if he knew. He’d think there’s something wrong with me. He’d judge me.
Hell, I know I’m messed up and spinning around in circles, but cutting quiets the demon down. If only for a little while, he stays quiet.
Cleaning up last night’s cut, I re-dress it and stare at it. Beside it is a thicker line, one I’ve cut many times, but can’t cut again because I know it won’t heal properly. My thighs are a cluster of mismatched, straight lines. Thick, thin, long, and short scars. The markings are obviously deliberate; anyone can see that. But they’re also beautiful. And scary. And hypnotic.
I shouldn’t cut. It’s not healthy… it’s not right. The logical part of my brain knows this isn’t how I should be living.
But Azael is always around. He feeds off my anxieties. When I’m sad, he’s there. When I’m anxious, he’s there. He’s there all the time. The only time I can get rid of him is when I’ve cut and he tries to come back straight after. When I manage to fight him off, he stays away until the next time he picks up on my emotions and comes back stronger.
Looking at my leg, I can’t help but feel guilty and ashamed.
Tears fill my eyes. My finger tenderly runs over the butterfly strips as the memory of the blade invades my thoughts.
“You have to stop,” I murmur to myself, but hope he hears me.
Who am I kidding? He doesn’t listen to me. He does whatever he wants.
God, I feel so alone.
Taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from my eyes, I choose to fight past this. Standing, I pull my jeans up, being very careful to make sure I don’t drag the strips away from the wound.
I’m alone in the bathroom, which gives me some time to try and wash the blood out of my jeans. Standing by the sink, I lift my leg, balancing on the other one. I pour some water in my hand and throw it over the blood drops on my jeans. Rubbing at the wet fabric, I get most of the blood out. But now, I’m left with a wet spot.
Ugh. Great. I didn’t think that through properly. Get your head in the game, Ivy, I silently scold myself. I’m such an idiot. I think I better start wearing dark jeans after I cut. That way if blood seeps through, it’ll be harder to see.
Or, I could stop cutting.
I wish.
Chapter 8
“Hey,” Chloe chimes happily at lunch. She sits beside Jared and smiles at us.
“Hey,” Tobias responds for us as Jared bites into his burger and I chew on some grapes.
“So, I’m having a party on Saturday.”
The moment Chloe says the words, I cringe. I don’t want to be around people. I hate being in an environment where people may see my scars. Not because I’ll be wearing anything revealing, but because maybe they’ll accidently feel them. People brushing up against each other, touching… ugh. My personal worst nightmare.
“You okay?” Tobias asks me.
“Yeah, fine. Why?” I continue eating, trying not to show how paranoid and anxious Chloe’s statement has made me.
“You’ve gone white.” He reaches up and moves his hand as if he’s going to touch my face. Automatically I flinch away.
Tobias quickly withdraws his hand. His forehead crinkles in question. “I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he says in a low voice.
Crap. I don’t even know why I winced. I know he’s not going to hurt me, but the fact he’s reached out to touch me sends shock waves throughout my body. I can’t risk him knowing. He’ll be disgusted and he won’t understand.
And worst yet, I’ll lose him.
“I know,” I say, swallowing back the fear and shame. “I…” Closing my eyes I shake my head, not really knowing what to say without giving away my secret.
“What’s happening with you?” he asks, concerned. I shake my head again preferring to remain quiet as opposed to talking to him. Opening my eyes, I see his darkness staring back at me. His features are tight, as if he’s ready to fight for my safety. “Has someone hurt you, Ivy?” he asks. His jaw jumps and stiffens.
“Hurt me?” Yeah, my demon hurts me all the time.
“Does someone hurt you?” he asks, dropping his voice to a low and uneasy tone.
“What? No. Why would you say that?” My gaze goes straight to Jared and Chloe who are both talking and laughing, completely oblivious to Tobias’s behavior.
Tobias’s eyes roam over my bare skin, he drinks in every exposed inch of me. He’s not greedily gawking at me, more like he’s studying to make sure my skin isn’t marked with bruises.
“Tobias,” I say in a small voice, fidgeting in my seat, my body restless and uncomfortable. His eyes snap back to mine, waiting. “No one hurts me,” I tell the truth. No one but me.
“Then there’s no reason you can’t go to Chloe’s party.”
Ugh.
My skin crawls with uncertainty. “I prefer to stay at home.”
He arches a brow as his mouth draws out into a thin line. “I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t jump at the chance of going to a party. Especially when there’ll likely be alcohol.”
Yeah great, let’s give alcohol to my demon. He’ll love that.
But I won’t.
“Drinking isn’t my scene,” I say trying to deflect.
“It’s not mine either. How about I make you a deal?” he asks eagerly. Scrunching my nose, I wait for him to tell me about this ‘deal.’ Before he says anything, he lets out a small chuckle. “I’ll come pick you up, and take you for dinner first. Then we’ll head over to Chloe’s for her party, and if you want to leave early, we will. But I think it woul
d be good if we made an appearance.”
“You’ll take me to dinner?” I ask. I like the sound of that part, but the party… I just can’t stomach it.
“Yes.”
Taking a deep breath, I look away from him and try to wrap my head around going to a party—with other people. “Fine,” I mumble.
A quick, perfect smile lights up his face, but it disappears just as fast. “Yeah, good,” he says as he straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin in a masculine, cocky kind of way. “Yeah,” he repeats. “I knew you were gonna say yes.”
Rolling my eyes, I smile. “Sure.” He’s not fooling anyone. He was sweating bullets, worrying I was going to say no. That’s why he was trying so hard.
“You know I’ll pick you up on my bike, so don’t wear a skirt.”
You’d never catch me in a skirt. That’s easy access to my scars. And if he sees my scars, then he’ll want to know why I have all those lines on my thighs.
Ugh. This is becoming a nightmare.
Why did Tobias Baxter have to come along and complicate my life? I was fine, blending into the shadows, keeping to myself, and not going to parties.
“Trust me, I won’t,” I say in response to his ‘no skirt’ statement. Inside, my gut is twisting with anticipation. Normal people would be freaking out at telling their parents about going to a party with a guy who rides a motorcycle and has a tattoo. But me, I’m hoping once Dad meets Tobias, he’ll forbid me from going anywhere with him. Then I can blame Dad and say I’m not allowed to go out.
Who am I kidding? Even if I do want that to happen, it’s not fair to Dad or Tobias. I can’t manipulate them to keep my cutting a secret.
I’ll just have to work my way through it. I’ll wear jeans and make sure I’m not put in any position where anyone is able to see my scars.
“Did you hear what I said?” Tobias asks as he nudges me with his leg.
“Huh?” I question as he drags me out of the self-pity headspace I’m in.
“I said, two things. Do you want a ride home today, and, I’ll pick you up at around six for dinner on Saturday night.”
“Oh, yeah I heard.” Nah, I didn’t. “Yeah, that’s cool to both.”
He widens his eyes in question and gives me a crooked smile. “You weren’t listening, were ya?” he pushes.
“I said I was.” Picking at my food, I try to hide my smile that says, ‘nope, I wasn’t listening.’
“Yeah, right.”
“See ya,” Chloe happily chimes as she stands and leaves.
“Party on Saturday.” Jared smirks happily and waggles his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I heard,” I answer.
“You’re going, yeah? Need me to pick you up? I’ll swing by and pick you up, then we can go and get Zane.”
“I’m giving Ivy a ride,” Tobias answers before I get a chance to say anything.
“So, I’ll see you both there?”
Tobias nods, and so do I. I know I’ll try to use every excuse known to man to get out of going. The dinner does sound nice, just me and Tobias without having everyone else around, but the party… Ugh, no thanks.
The bell sounds and we head back to class. “I wanna meet your Dad,” Tobias says as he walks beside me.
“I think he’ll be home Saturday.”
“I want to meet him before then. Will he be home today?”
Turning to him, I huff in frustration. “You know, you’re really pushy for a guy.”
He gives me a cheeky smile before he continues down the corridor toward class. “I’ve got the big picture in my head, and I want to make sure it works out.”
“Big picture? Like what? You see yourself in a house with a white picket fence with two-point-three kids?”
“How do you get the point three? Wouldn’t that mean you’d be pregnant?” He points to me.
“Me? I’m not having kids.” I shake my head.
“Why not? You might change your mind.”
“Yeah, about that… no.”
“Why? You telling me you have your life planned out and kids don’t fit into the equation?”
I place my hand on his arm, stopping from walking any further. “First, I’m seventeen. I have my entire life in front of me. And second, I have no idea where I’m going to be after college, let alone any plans for kids and picket fences. I might be a fashion photographer in Paris, or I might be traveling the world taking photos of exotic animals. I have no idea where I’m going to be. So, kids… no. Not in the picture. Ever.”
And besides, I’m too terrified my demon will abandon me to infect them. I can barely handle him, how is my child supposed to? Passing my beast on to my child is not what I want to do.
“You want to do photography? How did I not know this?”
Shrugging I keep walking toward class. “Maybe because you never really asked.”
He lets out a chuckle. “Touché, Miss Jones, touché.”
Walking to class, Tobias walks next to me. It seems we’ve fallen into a rhythm. He’s always near me, hovering as if he’s ready to protect me.
Will you show me some of your work?” Tobias asks as I slip on my helmet and get on his bike.
“If you want to see them.”
“You took them, so of course I wanna see them.”
“Sure.”
He straddles the bike, and when I climb on, he grabs my arms and wraps them tightly around his waist. “You okay back there?” he asks as he revs his bike.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He gives my hand a squeeze then takes off out of the school parking lot toward home.
He’s such a cautious driver when I’m on the bike. But I can see where he’d have a wild streak too, and is likely more careless when he’s on his own.
When we reach home, I see Dad’s car in the driveway. Getting off the bike, I take my helmet off and hand it to Tobias. “Looks like your dream of meeting my Dad is about to come true.” I pointedly glance at Dad’s car.
“Great,” he grunts half-heartedly.
I can’t help but laugh. “Hey, you said you wanted to meet him.” I walk ahead of Tobias, and I turn to catch him running his palms down the front of his jeans. He’s nervous. If I’m being truthful, I find his nervousness really sweet. It means he cares and he wants to make a good impression.
Opening the door, I call out, “Dad. Are you here?” I know he is, I just hope he’s not in the shower. That could be awkward, Dad coming out in a towel finding Tobias in the house.
“Here, sweetheart,” he calls from the den. He’s sitting in his favorite chair, watching TV. “How was school?”
“Hey Dad, why aren’t you at work?” I ask. I lean over the arm of his chair and kiss his cheek.
“Machine broke down, and they sent us all home until they can get someone in to fix it.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re home early. You can meet Tobias.”
“Oh, yeah you told me about him. The kid at school. As long as his hair is short, and he doesn’t have tattoos, then I’m sure I’ll like him.”
“And if his hair is long and he has tattoos?” I question.
“Then he isn’t someone I want my little girl hanging around with.” Dad stands from his comfortable recliner and heads into the kitchen. “When’s he coming?”
“Now. He’s outside.”
Dad straightens his back and juts his chin out, all alpha and protective. “Invite the boy in.”
I head to the front door and reach it the same moment Tobias does. “Come in,” I say as I swing the porch door open. He’s freaking out. I can tell by how he’s carrying himself. He’s trying to look confident, but the way he keeps wiping his hands down the front of his jeans is a dead giveaway of his nervousness. “You don’t have to be nervous,” I whisper.
“I’m not.”
Yeah right, buddy. Keep telling yourself that.
“Dad, this is Tobias. Tobias, this is my Dad, Stephen.”
Dad moves to greet Tobias with a handshake, and immediately his eyes are drawn t
o the tattoo on Tobias’s forearm. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting this,” Dad says, all the time his eyes bouncing between me, Tobias, and his tattoo.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Tobias carefully enunciates.
“Tell me about yourself, Tobias. When did you move here?” Dad leans against the breakfast counter and crosses his arms in front of his chest. The inquisition has started right away.
“Um, we haven’t lived here long.”
“And your parents? What do they do?”
Below Tobias’s right eye, a tic has started to spasm. “I live with my mom and grandmother. Mom’s an administrative assistant for an orthodontist, and my grandmother is a fork lift operator,” he proudly announces.
“And your father?” Dad asks.
“He’s not around,” Tobias’s voice shakes. “He hasn’t been around for a while.” I notice when he’s nervous, he rubs his hand over his tattoo. To me it appears like the words are there for courage when he’s struggling to be brave.
“Tell me about yourself,” Dad presses. Dad looks out the front window, and catches a glimpse of Tobias’s motorcycle. “Is that yours?” he asks as he flicks his chin toward the bike.
Tobias follows his line of sight, and nods. His demeanor changes, it becomes a lot more relaxed and not so uptight. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ve been on it a couple of times, Dad.”
Dad’s head whips around to look at me, his brows are high as his eyes bore into me. “I beg your pardon. You’ve been on that?” He pushes off from the kitchen counter and stands to all of his full six-feet.
“Yeah, Tobias is an extremely safe driver.”
“I make sure she has a helmet, and I’m not stupid on the bike.”
Dad’s jaw tightens.
His lips purse together into a straight line, as his forehead crinkles with the scowl he aims at Tobias. “I don’t think so. No more bike,” he sternly says.
Man, am I relieved. Not that I won’t be on the bike again, but this means I can’t go to Chloe’s stupid party on Saturday.
Edge of Darkness Box Set Page 71