Page 13 of Masked Instincts

Why? Who knows.

I look destroyed. Makeup is smudged down my cheeks. Scratches are along my arms from branches and twigs. Even more scratches are along my belly and beneath my boobs from Jax’s knife. A small J is scraped into my hipbone. I trail my fingers across the letter.

He marked me. He fucking marked me. It won’t scar. It wasn’t deep enough to leave a permanent print, but what if it had been? Jax was gentle with his knife, making sure only to draw enough blood and pain for pleasure.

Blood that remains smeared along my skin.

I turn around to find blood along my legs as well. More scratches run up the backs of my thighs. The belt buckle scar on my behind finds my gaze and it stares at me, reminding me of all the times my parents marked me.

I look away from the scar, focusing on the marks from Jax—the ones that bring back good memories, not the dark ones that linger in the back of my mind. I stare into the mirror for a long time, barely moving. I don't move until my legs are ready to give away from beneath me.

Before my knees buckle, I move toward the bathroom across the hall. Turning on the water to the highest temperature that my body can take. Once the bathroom is full of steam, I step inside. The water warms me from the outside in. I let it wash over me. The water running into the drain is a mix of red and black. I squirt a large amount of soap into my palm and scrub myself clean over and over again.

There’s a feeling inside of me. Empty and hollow. Maybe Jax took more than just a piece of me away. I feel like I’ve unlocked a box to a new me and she died before she had the chance to live.

I want to find him. I need to find him, but he’s gone in the wind and I know nothing but a name.

I try to let the water wash away the memories before I turn the shower off and find myself crawling into bed. Hoping to fall asleep and forget this night ever happened.

But when I wake in the morning with a soft moan of his name, I know true and well that I am completely fucked.

I show up at the library with a latte for me and an espresso for Chase. It’s a warming gift because I know he’s going to rip me a new one.

I look like Luna. The Luna who he has always known. The Luna who lived last night is covered with clothes. He can’t see the cuts on my stomach or thighs. I wore a long sleeve so he couldn’t see the marks from sticks either. When he walks in, Aaron is by his side, and now it feels like an intervention. Chase doesn’t typically bring Aaron with him to study. They spend most of their time together at his dorm or Aaron’s since studying is below Aaron.

“Chase. Aaron,” I nod my head at them.

“I’m going to kill you myself,” Chase snaps. I let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m in one piece, aren’t I?” I push back. Maybe physically I’m in one piece, but mentally I’m scattered.

“He’s right, Lun. What you did wasn’t very smart,” Aaron adds. His hair is dark and slicked back, making his green eyes bright. He’s dressed in an oversized hoodie that swallows him.

“Well if it’s any consolation, I had fun. Thanks for asking!” I spit sarcastically.

“I told you not to go with him!” Chase's voice rises and the librarian shushes him from her desk. “You’ve been being followed. What if that was him?”

Well shit, I never thought of that.

“See, Luna. You aren’t even using your head,” he whisper shouts as he taps my forehead.

eight

JAX

A library used to be my favorite place to go because I felt safe. My father couldn’t hurt me so long as I was inside the walls of one. He hated them. I’d run off to one the second his voice raised and in hindsight, that makes me a piece of shit. If I wasn’t home to take the beating, it meant my mom would.

I ran for safety and my mom paid the price for my weakness time and time again.

Chase’s scratchy voice pulls me back to the present. I lean against the bookshelves, the scent of old pages consuming my senses, as I try to listen closer as if I were listening through a can on a string.

“Was the danger you put yourself in worth it?” Chase snips. He’s so angry at her and for what? I kept her safe. I got her back to her apartment. So really, what is there to complain about?

No harm, no foul.

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t say she’s scratch-free, but it was wanted. Consented.

“If you must know, it was,” Luna quips back at him. A smirk tugs my lips up and I feel good. Great. Ecstatic even.