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Authors: A.M. Johnson
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before because her full sleeve of tattoos hid them.
“That’s not the worst part, though.” Her eyes, filled with remorse, followed my fingers across her self-inflicted wounds.
“Tell me, Tiff. Show me your worst.” I let my eyes close as I tried to gain my composure. I felt the dampness coat my lashes as she told me how her sister drowned. How she had to pull the lifeless body of a five-year-old little girl out of the pool. She told me how her rapist boyfriend left her there because he was drunk and didn’t want the cops questioning him. She remembered how no matter how many times she tried to breathe air into the blue lips of her sister, nothing happened.
“I couldn’t live with myself, Seth. I used to cut myself with a razor blade. I wanted to feel something other than the regret, the guilt, and the numb state I had to force upon myself every morning just to breathe, just to get out of bed.”
I brought her arm to my lips and kissed each raised line. I let my mouth feel the physical evidence of her pain. Tiffany’s lips trembled as my kisses moved to the bend in her arm. When our eyes met, hers began to spill over with emotion.
Tiffany confessed the sins she carried for so long, and I couldn’t stop the tears that were falling from my own eyes.
It was the first time I had ever cried. I cried for her sister, and I cried for this broken angel and everything she had endured.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tiffany
N O MORE WORDS … I couldn’t speak another syllable. Seth just watched me silently. His eyes rimmed with red, his lashes wet. It was just his way… silent observation. He was always watching, drinking in everything around him, profoundly feeling every drop of life that filtered by him. You could see it in his eyes; you could tell by how raw he was with his words, never holding back what he truly thought.
He stood from his sitting position next to me on the bed. “Stay with me tonight?” I didn’t recognize my voice. It sounded hollow.
He nodded and then removed his shirt. He laid it out on my dresser while he took off his shoes. Usually, my eyes would have scoured his body, wanting, needing, but tonight was different. Tonight Seth and I shared something greater than the physical pull that always seemed to bring us together. Tonight he met the real me. He met my monsters and didn’t look away.
He listened to every wretched detail of how I had to bury my baby sister. He soothed me as I sobbed, as I let every piece of darkness seep from my pores. He didn’t judge me when I told him I cut my flesh to feel, or how I had used pain pills to dull the memory of her. Seth listened to every part of my horror story and he stayed. I told him about how my parents kicked me out at eighteen and never looked back. He silently fumed when he found out I lived with Colt for three emotionally abusive years because I had nowhere to go. Seth felt each cut, each slice in my flesh, and I couldn’t deny that I loved him. Even if it was just for tonight.
I kicked off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands.
“Hey… listen Angel—“
“Don’t call me that.” The tears were dry, but I felt them brewing. I didn’t deserve that term. I was no angel.
“Fuck that, Tiff. That’s what you are. You died that day, too, but you found your way back, you fought. You made mistakes, you hurt yourself — hell, you crucified yourself. Enough is enough. Look at how far you’ve come. You’re an angel, babe. You died… but you resurrected yourself. You’re parents deserted you, your boyfriend used you, but yet, here you are. You’re the strongest person I know.” He placed his hands in mine, lifting me from the mattress to a standing position. “I can’t imagine what each day is like for you… but I know you’re a good person. You need to remember that day for what it was. You and Anna were both victims. Don’t forget to look ahead, Tiffany… look at the woman you’ve become. She’s
“That’s not the worst part, though.” Her eyes, filled with remorse, followed my fingers across her self-inflicted wounds.
“Tell me, Tiff. Show me your worst.” I let my eyes close as I tried to gain my composure. I felt the dampness coat my lashes as she told me how her sister drowned. How she had to pull the lifeless body of a five-year-old little girl out of the pool. She told me how her rapist boyfriend left her there because he was drunk and didn’t want the cops questioning him. She remembered how no matter how many times she tried to breathe air into the blue lips of her sister, nothing happened.
“I couldn’t live with myself, Seth. I used to cut myself with a razor blade. I wanted to feel something other than the regret, the guilt, and the numb state I had to force upon myself every morning just to breathe, just to get out of bed.”
I brought her arm to my lips and kissed each raised line. I let my mouth feel the physical evidence of her pain. Tiffany’s lips trembled as my kisses moved to the bend in her arm. When our eyes met, hers began to spill over with emotion.
Tiffany confessed the sins she carried for so long, and I couldn’t stop the tears that were falling from my own eyes.
It was the first time I had ever cried. I cried for her sister, and I cried for this broken angel and everything she had endured.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tiffany
N O MORE WORDS … I couldn’t speak another syllable. Seth just watched me silently. His eyes rimmed with red, his lashes wet. It was just his way… silent observation. He was always watching, drinking in everything around him, profoundly feeling every drop of life that filtered by him. You could see it in his eyes; you could tell by how raw he was with his words, never holding back what he truly thought.
He stood from his sitting position next to me on the bed. “Stay with me tonight?” I didn’t recognize my voice. It sounded hollow.
He nodded and then removed his shirt. He laid it out on my dresser while he took off his shoes. Usually, my eyes would have scoured his body, wanting, needing, but tonight was different. Tonight Seth and I shared something greater than the physical pull that always seemed to bring us together. Tonight he met the real me. He met my monsters and didn’t look away.
He listened to every wretched detail of how I had to bury my baby sister. He soothed me as I sobbed, as I let every piece of darkness seep from my pores. He didn’t judge me when I told him I cut my flesh to feel, or how I had used pain pills to dull the memory of her. Seth listened to every part of my horror story and he stayed. I told him about how my parents kicked me out at eighteen and never looked back. He silently fumed when he found out I lived with Colt for three emotionally abusive years because I had nowhere to go. Seth felt each cut, each slice in my flesh, and I couldn’t deny that I loved him. Even if it was just for tonight.
I kicked off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands.
“Hey… listen Angel—“
“Don’t call me that.” The tears were dry, but I felt them brewing. I didn’t deserve that term. I was no angel.
“Fuck that, Tiff. That’s what you are. You died that day, too, but you found your way back, you fought. You made mistakes, you hurt yourself — hell, you crucified yourself. Enough is enough. Look at how far you’ve come. You’re an angel, babe. You died… but you resurrected yourself. You’re parents deserted you, your boyfriend used you, but yet, here you are. You’re the strongest person I know.” He placed his hands in mine, lifting me from the mattress to a standing position. “I can’t imagine what each day is like for you… but I know you’re a good person. You need to remember that day for what it was. You and Anna were both victims. Don’t forget to look ahead, Tiffany… look at the woman you’ve become. She’s
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