Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Obviously, I’ve lost complete control of the situation.
The room is a disaster. Broken glass everywhere. The mattress half off the frame. The closet doors ripped off their tracks. Blood smears on the wall and streaks on the carpet. But none of it matters. The only thing that matters is the knife in her hand, and the look in her eyes.
“Put it down, Marnie,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”
She laughs, brittle and wild. “You think I won’t use it? I’m going to dismantle both of you, starting with your dicks! How would you like that, huh?”
James licks his lips, slow, measuring. “You don’t need to, baby girl. We’re done. Okay? Our dicks are safe. Our balls are safe. We’re done.”
He holds up his hands, palms out, and for a second the mask cracks. I see something raw in his face—shame, maybe, or fear.
Marnie’s arm drops a fraction, but she doesn’t lower the knife.
“You two are animals,” she sneers. “You don’t care about anything. You’d kill each other, just to win.”
James wipes blood from his mouth, and shrugs. “Probably.”
I step into the room, careful, every muscle ready to dart if she swings. “You win, Marnie,” I say. “Just put it down. Please.”
She looks at me, and for a second I think she might cry, but then she straightens her back, chin up, knife still aimed square at my chest.
“Not until you both calm the fuck down,” she spits. “Not until you get it through your heads that I am not a prize. Not a fucking thing to be fought over.”
We stare at each other, a triangle of violence, no one moving.
Finally, James lets out a shaky breath, then sits down on the edge of the ruined bed, wincing as he does. He looks smaller, diminished.
“I’m sorry, Marnie,” he says, and he means it. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just when I saw you with him, I lost control.”
I glance at her, then at him, and a wave of shame burns up from my gut. I want to say I’m sorry, too, but it sticks in my throat.
Marnie stands there, trembling, knife still up, but she’s in control now. She’s the only one who is.
We wait. No one talks. The blood from my nose ticks off my chin and onto the carpet, each drop a bright crimson stain.
It goes on for a minute, maybe two.
Then Marnie lowers the knife, lets her arm fall to her side.
She looks at me, then at James, and then at the mess of a room.
“You two figure it out,” she harrumphs. “I’m getting dressed.”
She backs out of the room, eyes never leaving us, and disappears down the hall.
We sit in the dark, breathing hard, the silence thick as syrup.
I glance at James. He looks at the floor.
Nobody won this, and we only have ourselves to blame.
It takes a full minute before either of us moves. The blood is sticky on my upper lip, drying in a crust that stings when I try to wipe it. James is hunched over, staring at his busted knuckles. The place smells like copper and sweat and, weirdly, the faint lilac sweetness of Marnie’s shampoo.
When the bedroom door creaks open, she’s back in the same state as before—nude except for a tiny towel hugging her frame, her hair a tangled halo, the knife still in her grip. She looks more composed now. Or maybe just drained.
She stands there, watching us with the flat, glassy eyes of someone who’s cried out every last tear.
James tries to speak first, but his voice is wrecked. “What do you want, Marnie?” It’s not a question so much as a plea, his handsome features lost.
She shifts the knife to her left hand and picks at the edge of the sheet. “I want you to stop fighting over me. I want you to act like grown men, not—” She laughs, hollow. “Not whatever that was.”
James gestures at the mess around us. “You made us like this.”
“Bullshit,” I cut in, my voice hoarse. “You’ve never needed a reason to go full animal, asshole.”
James rounds on me, teeth bared. “And you haven’t? You were fucking her behind my back.”
My stomach drops. “Okay yeah, so I was. So what? She wanted it.”
Marnie cuts me off. “Stop. Please. It’s not what you think.” She slumps onto the edge of the bed, knife dangling uselessly. The towel slips a bit, revealing a big, ivory breast, but she doesn’t care. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I was just trying to survive my life and you two—” She breaks, tears starting up again, “—you two made me feel alive, and I didn’t want to let that go. I didn’t know what to do either, and I’m just so confused.”
James paces, a caged beast, then slams his fist into the already-ruined closet door. “So what, you’re just going to string us both along until you get bored?”