Page 34 of Arranged Scars
“When I brought you into this, I didn’t think you’d get so involved. You don’t have to do this.”
She stares straight ahead, arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“What did they do to you, baby?”
She flinches slightly and turns, hands suddenly shoving against my chest. I step backwards, off-balance, and my back runs up against a tree. She gets in my chest, up on her toes, grabbingat my wrists. “You wanna see?” she hisses, eyes wild with anger and fright. “You want me to show you?” She guides my hands to her throat. She shoves them against her neck like she’s trying to make me choke her. “Go ahead, squeeze hard, and don’t stop until my lips are blue. It’s a fun game. The first person to make me pass out wins. But be careful, if you kill me, Mom might be sad.”
My heart races as she holds me like that, teeth gritted. Her mask is gone now too. The wildness is there, the hate and the terror burning in her like hellfire. I caught a glimpse of it, but now she’s throwing it all aside, tearing apart the polite facade she usually wears.
I grip her neck. Just like she wants. “Harder?” I whisper.
She gasps. Her eyes widen. I doubt she thought I’d do it. “Harder.”
I turn until she’s the one pinned to the tree. I tighten my grip. I’m not cutting off her air, but she feels me now. I get close, my mouth inches away. “How hard do you want, baby? You want me to keep on squeezing until you don’t have to deal with this anymore?”
“Go ahead. Keep going.”
I force her chin up. I stare into her eyes. “Beg.”
Her jaw tightens. “Please.”
I crush her mouth with my lips. I kiss her hard, brutally, violently. She whimpers, gasping, hands clawing at my face. Her nails rake down my cheek. I kiss her, bite her lower lip, and release her throat. She pulls at me, trying to yank me back, but I push her away.
“I’m not playing that game.” I grip her hair. I pull it tight and kiss her again, hard enough to bruise her pink lips. She’s breathing fast. “I don’t break my toys.”
“I knew you wouldn’t.” She stares at me, still daring me to cross the line. There’s too much fucked up between us. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted in my life. Every ounce of my blood burns to take her and fuck her into mewling submission.
Instead, I let her go. “Focus on the plan, baby.”
I walk away. I’ve never hated myself more. I wish I could turn back and fuck her right here on the sidewalk. Instead, I don’t let myself forget. We’re both drowning, and we’ll just drag each other under if we don’t swim.
13
CAROLINE
Iavoid Finn for the next couple days. It’s easy, since he’s barely at the apartment. After the way I threw myself at him, I can’t really bring myself to look him in the eye, much less to talk to him again.
He knows how fucked up I am now.
Maybe he knew before. I mean, I must be pretty broken if I’m willing to go along with his plan to kill my brothers. What kind of sick, evil human would willingly murder their own sibling?
I watch a team of cleaners drain the pool upstairs. They pick the glass out from the tile meticulously. When they’re done, they leave the pool empty. It’s just one giant hole in the floor, a gap staring up at the night sky. I climb down and lie on my back in the deep end and gaze at the stars. I feel like I’m hurtling deeper and deeper into something dark and terrifying, and I’m afraid most of all that there’s no landing, that I’ll be tumbling forever.
I close my eyes and run my fingers down a scar on my shoulder. I remember this one vividly. I was ten years old. Dad had me doing dishes in the kitchen even though we had staff for that.He said it made me stronger. I never saw my brothers do any cleaning, but that was fine. It was my life. Except that day, I was paying more attention to a little TV one of the staff members had in the corner of the room and I didn’t notice a splash of water on the floor. I slipped, stumbled, and caught myself on the counter. But the plates I was carrying shattered all over, little colored shards scattering at my feet.
The room was quiet after that. I’ll never forget the way Shane sauntered over, clucking his tongue and shaking his head. “You clumsy idiot,” he said, almost like he felt sorry for me. But I knew better. I wasn’t surprised when he slapped me across the face. I barely reacted when he pushed me to the floor.
It was the knife that made me scream. My brothers liked their punishments. My father most of all. But they rarely used anything sharp.
“Don’t be such a fucking baby, Caroline. You think Dad’s going to let me go halfway with this one?” He clamped one big, meaty hand over my mouth. “God, you can be such a wuss.”
I pleaded and struggled, but Shane’s always been strong. He held me down and jabbed the tip into my shoulder. I screamed in agony as he dragged it down, slicing open my skin. I’ll never forget the fascinated way he stared at the blood. A part of me thought he’d keep on going, keep on slicing until I was carved open, but he stopped himself and pulled back with a frown. I was crying, whimpering, writhing on the floor, one hand clamped over the wound to try to make the bleeding stop.
“Such a fucking baby,” he muttered as he tossed the bloody knife into the sink. “Clean this shit up.”
The scar’s still there. Faded now, but I can feel it under my fingers. Straight and even. Shane always was good with a blade.
When I climb out of the pool, Finn’s sitting on the bench with his back to the house. He looks at me curiously. I stare back, my spine itching like spiders are crawling down my shirt.
