Shadowed Hearts

But mostly ugly. The handsome man I’d loved since I was twelve, the one I’d fantasized about since the first time I’d touched myself, was now the ugliest kind of devil.

“Well, you’re a bloody bastard,” I spat through gritted teeth, hiding a wince from the pain in my ankle, and the already-forming bruises on my face. 

Salvatore splayed a hand on the wall next to my bed, his weight shifting to the leg I hadn’t yet broken. Looking down, I stared at his shin twisted at an unnatural angle. I remained still, a few feet away from him, my eyes fixated on the blood soaking the pant leg of his jeans, dripping down his boot and pooling on the floor.

My heart raced with adrenaline, hands shaking as my body vibrated with anger and a level of disappointment I’d never experienced before. I’d known him for thirteen years. Thirteen fucking years. He was my older brother’s best friend. How had I not seen this coming? How could I have been such a fool?

A giant wave of white-fiery rage swarmed me, begging for an outlet. Without thinking, I lunged at Salvatore, lifting the bat with both hands, ready to slam it over his head. The rage was so all-consuming, I didn’t see the gun until it was too late.

The bullet lodged itself deep in my thigh, making me stumble. I didn’t scream or cry. I didn’t feel pain. Rather, the cackle of laughter coming from my throat surprised me. 

The next few seconds played out in slow motion as I hit him over and over. I swung the bat against his hand, knocking the gun out of his grip. I kicked it with my good leg and it skittered on the floor, hitting the opposite wall of my bedroom.

I slammed the bat on his other limb, and he crumpled to the floor. 

“I love you, baby! Please stop hurting me,” he screamed like the pussy he was. I let out a bitter laugh. Did he really think telling me he loved me would make me forget everything and drive me back into his arms?

What a stupid fuck. 

His words enraged me even more. “You just beat me up, tried to rape me, and shot me! How dare you speak of love!” I swung the bat into his torso, a blood-curdling roar ripping from his chest. 

“You asked for it,” he groaned, panting, a wicked smile on his lips. “You asked for it,” he repeated, slumped over on the floor, immobile and unable to continue his assault on me.

I’d won. And yet I couldn’t stop swinging the fucking bat, over and over, hitting his torso, arms, and skull with maniacal strength. I was positive I looked like a crazy bitch, hair disheveled, eyes wild and fiery. In that moment, I’d lost my humanity. I’d become nothing more than an animal protecting itself from a predator. And when the shadows knocked, I opened the door for them.

The darkness took me, and I let it.

And what’s worse, I liked it.