Beautiful Misery |1

24. SHE DESIRES MISERY

The same merciless brutality, the same sinister admiration of the abuse he'd inflicted and I was sure, the same psychotic justifications for his actions...it couldn't have been anyone else. Pacing the width of Rayne's room, barefoot, I hugged my arms around my middle. I could feel myself reverting...becoming his obedient plaything once more. Disgusted by the thought, I rubbed at my arms in an attempt to wipe away his haunting essence.

I couldn't shake the image of his nauseating form, hovering over a stranger's unconscious body like a reaper of death. The assault played on an uninterrupted loop, determine to send me mad. "Stop..." I breathed, pleading for the torment to end. Reaching up to my neck, I soothed the stinging sensation of toxic bile climbing up my throat. Hot tears rimmed my eyelids, undecided in wether to shed or hide.

Fighting the fear of my nightmares creeping back into my reality, I squeezed my throat. Bound by the restraints of my dread I rocked back and forth. "Please...stop..." Clutching my temple, I begged to no one in particular. I found myself stilling, before the fragile seems of my sanity ripped completely. Gradually calming, I lowered my arms. Emptying my lungs on a long exhale, I felt the remnants of an oncoming panic attack dissolve.

My body's sudden rise in temperature clued me into the dominating presence behind me, the familiar tingling beneath my skin made me hyperaware of the forces that had chased away my fear. Rayne, a force so persistent and indestructible that I couldn't imagine anyone ever bringing him to his knees. The heat radiating off his large frame wrapped around me from behind. My eyelids fluttered shut as his large fingers slid up my arms.

Gently swivelling my body, he gripped my shoulders. Opening my eyes to the defined ridges of his torso, decorated by deep inky hues of masculine patterns, I carefully raised my gaze to meet his. Guiding me back, he lowered me to the edge of the bed; my body obeyed without question. Sinking to his knees he swallowed audibly, my breath hitched at the sight. The biggest, baddest brute in town...kneeling before me. "I'm..." He started, lowering his eyes to my lap "...sorry." Finishing on a rasp, he hesitated before raising his eyes again.

Even without an explanation, I somehow knew what he was apologising for. Nodding, I almost smiled— finding a strange sense of content in his need for my forgiveness. "You still don't trust me." He stated, sounding miserable. "I don't blame you." He admitted, dropping his head ashamed. Cupping his face, I urged him to look at me.

"Let this go, Rayne...please." Clasping my wrists, he stiffened.

"I can't damnit." His emerald eyes revealed emotions I knew neither of us were ready to admit. "I can't." He whispered, holding my small hands in his palms. Wincing, when the friction disturbed my injured flesh, I fisted my hands. Tensing, he carefully opened my fingers up. Studying the blood speckled abrasions he ground his teeth together. "Fuck." He seethed, inspecting them closely.

"Rayne, it's fine-" Shoving off the floor, he stormed out of the room. Concerned, I followed after him. Finding him rummaging through the bathroom cupboards, I closed the door behind me— afraid Rayne's lack of concern for the noise he was making would wake Macy or Joey. "Rayne, what are you doing? I fell over it's nothing-"

"Sit." He ordered tersely. When I didn't move he closed the distance between us and scooped me into his arms all in a single fluid manoeuvre. Gasping, I watched him nervously. Placing me on the porcelain surface of the basin top, he pulled out the first aid container stashed below. Tearing the lid off, he scowled at the dwindling resources. "Fucking pathetic excuse for a first aid kit." He cursed. Chuckling, I nodded in agreement remembering only days ago the roles had been reversed, the irony wasn't lost on me. Glaring down at me unimpressed, he filled the basin with warm water. Pressing the back of my hand over my lips, I hid my growing smile.