By Thursday night, I was aching to see Logan. I’d been lying on my couch, flipping through channels filled with reality shows and infomercials, and needed something from him.
Try to relax, miss. Her gaze fixed on my fingers drumming against my thighs.Miss. There it was again. I despised the term. And relax? Right!
I stilled my hands, stretching out my fingers.Okay, maybe I was less composed than I’d realized, but considering the day’s events it was as calm as I was capable of being. I’d been sitting there for far too long, or so it felt, and my body was buzzing in protest. I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nostrils, hoping time would offer its assistance and speed the hell up.I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth. Why is this taking so long? It was only a few scrapes.
Unable to find any peace, I opened my eyes and watched as Tara examined my face closely before producing a smaller black kit. The overwhelming need to bolt shook my body. Not out of fear; no, I wasn’t scared. Perhaps Kurt had drained all the fear from my system. Instead, I was worried.The strangest thought came over me. I found myself wracked with anxiety over having a disfiguring scar on my face—a reminder I’d be confronted with every time I passed a mirror or took a simple photograph, just like the one on my leg. It was such a superficial thought in the grand scheme of things, yet it was still there in my mind, front and center.
Where were my pain, anger, the need to scream and cry…anything? I felt them for Scout, but for myself, these emotions were replaced simply by a numbing void in my chest. Was that better than suffering through the emotions?
I clamped my eyes shut again and forced forward the memory of the branch slicing through my skin as I raced through the forest. The images came easy, but the traumatizing effect I expected to endure remained absent.I’d placed the stack of flyers on my lap and was wondering if I should come back later when the door to his office opened. Mackenzie, the bitch who’d screwed Mark and flirted with Logan on more than one occasion, moseyed out.
What the hell is she doing here? And in his office!?The poor flyers were rolled tightly in my grasp as rage simmered just below my surface. I fought the urge to jump up, grab her cheap extensions, and pound her face against the wall.
I blinked, holding my composure, and bit the inside of my cheek—hard. I hissed from the pain it triggered.Mackenzie’s gaze shot my way, and an instant fake grin appeared across her mouth.