Playing His Own Games | ✔︎

chapter thirty-two | charred remains

*•*•*•*
"I'm scared to get close,
I hate being alone.
I long for that feeling,
To not feel at all.
The higher I get,
The lower I sink.
I can't drown my demons,
They know how to swim."
*•*•*•*

Mason

THE FIRST THOUGHT THAT enters my mind when I open my eyes is: Fuck my back hurts.

Ruby and Jared had me dosed me up on painkillers the moment I regained consciousness after my dad left. The rest of the world sort of slipped away after that. I remember the sting of the rubbing alcohol pressed against the cuts and open wounds, the coolness of the creams applied to my skin, the smoothness of the dressings and gauzes wrapped and tapped over my injuries. Other than that, I was floating in an empty void. Drifting alone in the numbing darkness. Protected by the isolation and the cold dead feeling filling my veins. In that place, pain didn't exist. Hell, I hardly existed.

That was until she arrived, snapping me back into the painful reality.

I felt vulnerable and weak curled up on the kitchen floor, broken and patched up, completely desensitised from the pain. In that moment, I despised the entire universe and every person who inhabited it; especially myself. I despised the feeling of feeling. The feeling of my blood running through my veins, the angry thump of a heart desperate to give up, the sting behind my eyes every time I blinked.

Every ounce of my body felt as though it had been set alight. My flesh was burning bright and raw, flames were licking at the very marrow of my bones, my heart and brain were engulfed in an orange inferno. I was spiralling—falling apart in a infinite abyss. Completely out of control.

And, like always, it was Carrie who cooled down the hot coals and gradually extinguished the fire. It was Carrie who guided me out of the prison within my mind and tore the chains that bound my wrists.

Light filters through the gaps of the drawn curtains and I wince as I shift uncomfortably. The painkillers from last night have run dry in my bloodstream, meaning I can feel every punch, every kick, every lash of the extension cord inflicted upon my body.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I attempt to push the pain into the back of my mind. I focus on Carrie to distract myself instead. I can feel her steady heartbeat pushing against my own chest. Her chin is digging into my collarbone, her arm slung lazily over my neck while her soft breath scrapes over my sensitive skin.

"Fuck," I hiss between clenched teeth, tears smarting in my eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Carries eyelids flutter open and soon she's peering up me through an ocean of long lashes. "What are you swearing about?" she mumbles, squinting.

"I'm just a little sore," I mutter, groaning into clenched teeth as my back rubs against the bandages which have loosened overnight.

"Here, let me have a look." Carrie props herself up on her knees, her eyebrows pinched and mouth downturned.

The back of my head smacks against the headboard as I make a useless attempt to get away from her. "Seriously, Carrie, I'm fine."

"Roll over onto your stomach," she demands, pursing her lips.

"God, you're such a mum," I whine, rolling my eyes but obeying her nonetheless.