Own Me

Chapter Twenty-Two

♔ Chapter Twenty-Two ♔       

Burning. I felt it all over. Everywhere was tingling. I felt so warm, warmer than ever before. Boiling. And I was itching, everywhere aching. The skin of my arms was red and blistered from scratching, from trying to hide the cravings. Frustration grappled at every hair on my body, my chest tightening.

I couldn't. I really shouldn't. But I still wanted to, so bad. More than anything, I needed it. To feel better, I'd tell myself. To pull me out of this rut that I'd been buried in, although some part of me knew that it would only bury me deeper.

I still needed it though. After all this time, I'd managed to keep myself together, but now I couldn't. Now I really, really couldn't. Seeing Tom again, hearing what he told me, I couldn't bare to stay sobre any longer. And what was worse, I didn't want to. Thinking that he was pushed, it was too overwhelming. Some part of me knew I couldn't trust what he was saying, because I knew he wasn't real. I knew it was just my memory of him. But even hearing him say something like that, it took me off guard.

I regretted where my thoughts had taken me, as well. After he said it, the first person that came to mind was Isaac. But I couldn't ever think he was that evil. He was flawed, like everyone else, but I knew he couldn't be capable of that. Hurting him, raping him, yes. But I knew he drew the line at murder. Whatever the case, I couldn't handle it. That was why I was here.

"So?" Skins asked, his face alone making my skin crawl. In his hands, he held it out to me. "You want it?"

Quickly, I nodded. I grabbed it from him.

"Now you owe me," he continued.

I laughed. "I owe you nothing," I spat. "After that client you sent my way the other day, I'd say we're about equal."

"What client?"

"Behind the bins," I reminded him, biting on the inside of my mouth. Chewing. I didn't care anymore, I just needed it. It was all too much, I couldn't bare it anymore. I needed to get away, to be free, even if only for a little while. I needed the high.

After that, Skins didn't say a word about the rape. The client that he'd sent my way, to hold me down and own me, whether I agreed or not. He nodded, turning, stopped. He was about to say something, but continued walking anyway. I sighed, once he was gone, cradling the bag in my hands. I was in that same alley, but all I felt was a numbness.

"Don't do it," I heard Tom say. I pushed his voice away, I'd already decided.

I made three lines, scraping them together on the bin lid with my keys. Desperate, wringing my fingers in my hands. I must have spent so long just staring at them, the three white strips. I felt a faint, but I didn't let myself. I wouldn't give in. But I couldn't hold back the craving, the itching. It was all over now, in my head, my arms, scratching, scraping. All over my back. I felt it everywhere, even on the inside, on the back of my skin, under the skin. Behind my eyes. It felt so wrong, but I did it anyway.

"Darby, be strong," his voice echoed. But the itching was stronger than him. It was stronger than anything, and it had to be better than feeling how I was now. Broken. Incomplete.

I just kept losing everything I had, everyone I held closest to me. First Tom, and now all I had were bitter remnants, like smoke after a fire. Trying to understand Tom was like trying to catch smoke in my hands. I'd always fail.

If Fletcher knew I'd fucked his secret lover, he'd be done with me as well. And Sawyer. Sweet fucking Sawyer. I'd already started corrupting him, just like I knew I would. I'd lead him into thinking he needed to hurt himself to please me. I felt like shit.