But in my mind, as that piece of shit fell to the ground, I ripped his jaw off. Peeled his skin away. Gouged out his eyes and cut off his dick. Set him on fire and pissed on the ashes. Even now, I can’t seem to calm the fuck down. I should have followed through with my impulses. Fuck the consequences.
It was bad enough Jason made Ara feel like shit about herself. It was doubly bad that he kept boomeranging back to beg her to be with him. But that he violated her privacy, recorded her like that without her consent… and put a tracking program on her laptop, too. I can’t believe how much danger she’s been in and didn’t know it.
And those pictures. I couldn’t even look past the first thumbnail in that secret folder. Jason was a twisted son of a bitch who deserves everything he’s going to get.
I should have killed him.
Now there’s too much anger in me. Too much disgust. I’m pissed at myself for holding back.
Why do I always hold back?
I held back tonight when I should have unleashed unholy fury on that sick fuck.
I held back months ago when I should have asked Ara out. Then that shithead would have never existed in her life.
I held back when I was a kid, and never spoke my feelings or said what was on my mind.
I always hold back.
Not anymore.
I grab Ara by her ass, kneading her backside as I carry her into my bedroom. She’s frantic and sad and I’m not letting her stay like this a minute longer. We’ve had a great few days and tonight was, in a twisted way, a good night too. We’re about to put a very bad man behind bars.
“You did so good,” I say against her mouth. She whimpers, rejecting my words. “You’re so strong.” She doesn’t act like it now. “My girl is so brave and fierce.” I lay her back on the bed. I’m not sure if she wants to be touched or not. She’s in a shell.
I pivot my plan. “Come on.”
I end up taking Ara back to her studio. This is her safe space. Her outlet. She needs this more than I need to claim her. As bad as I want to fuck her senseless and be a beast about it, a feral monster isn’t what she needs tonight. She needs someone patient and understanding.
I hold her hand and guide her up the steps to her workspace. Digging her keys out for her, I unlock the door and flick on the lights.
Her demeanor shifts a little once she steps inside her art room. Ara lets out a little sigh and I know I’ve done the right thing bringing her here.
In silence, I tug her shirt over her head. Slip her feet out of her shoes and pull her pants off after that. Then I walk over and drag a small table with all her paint bins and jars of brushes over to the middle of the room. Without saying a word, I sit in the corner and watch what she does.
Ara doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge my presence whatsoever. I’m okay with that.
She scrubs her face and stares at her feet. She’s standing in the paint we fucked on earlier. Yanking her hair up, she redoes her messy bun, then grabs a canvas from the far side of the room. She props it so I can’t see what’s on it.
My girl plucks colors out of bins and loads her palate next.
Watching her work calms me. Settles my demons. Turns my scattered thoughts into actual reasonable sentences.
Ara works for hours in silence. My eyes grow heavy. I’m fucking exhausted, but I don’t dare doze off. I keep watching her. She eventually grabs the bowl of Skittles and I hear her chew. She’s hungry. I want to order food to be delivered, but I’m not risking breaking her spell. She’s in a zone. I can feel it.
I love it.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but it must be going on twenty-four hours. I’ve already texted my manager to let him know I won’t be in for a few days. My shop runs fine without me. Rubbing the heel of my palms against my eyes, I yawn. All my fight has left me. I’m just glad Ara’s painting and her mood’s shifted to a better one.
“Want to see it?” she croaks. Her voice is as tired as I feel.
I slowly get up and make my way to her. My body is killing me. I’m utterly exhausted. From my seat, all I got a view of was the back of a canvas and the table with all the paint and brushes scattered on it. I couldn’t even see the top of Ara’s head. But when I walk around it, I’m greeted with vibrant colors. It was so cold and empty on my side of the room, but Ara’s is warm, energized. Brilliant.
Now I’m fully awake. “Holy shit.”
She’s painted me. It’s the sketch from the other day of my face, but in full detail, with a fuckload of color added to it.