A Song for Us

Chapter Thirty

SARAH

I AWOKE TO DEREK’S climbing into bed just after three in the morning. His hand slid over my breast roughly as he pushed his lips hard against mine. I shoved against his chest, but he pinned my shoulder down with his.

“Get off me!” I could smell the alcohol coming off him in waves and it was nauseating.

He reluctantly rolled off me. “Fuck,” he barked loudly as his fists came down against the bed. “What is wrong with you?”

I got up from the bed and went to the kitchen area, filling a small glass with water and drinking it down quickly as I struggled to slow my breathing.

“You caught me off guard.” I refilled my cup and drank more slowly this time.

“You were expecting someone else?” he said angrily.

I rolled my eyes. “No, Derek. I only have you.” It was painful even to say the words but it was the truth now. I had pushed away the one person who gave a damn about me for Derek, and now he was throwing it in my face. Now instead of feeling empty I felt heartbroken.

I set my cup in the sink and made my way to the desk, turning on the small table lamp so I could write. He immediately jumped from the bed to follow me.

“I have fucking needs, Sarah.” He stood over me from behind.

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“That’s the fucking point! You’re never in the mood anymore. Ever since we came here.”

“You know that’s not true, Derek.” I sighed as a tear fell to my paper, and I hunched over farther so he couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, well, it’s getting fucking old. Maybe I should find someone who actually wants me.”

“Maybe you should.” I rolled my eyes and tried to focus on the paper.

“Fine.” He stomped across the room and I jumped as the hotel-room door slammed hard. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the tiny trash can in the kitchen as I heaved the contents of my stomach into it.

I slid down on the cool tile floor, my back against the counter as the room began to spin. I was losing control. I tried to push out the fear and sadness, welcoming the familiar emptiness that had kept me together for all of these years. I needed to shut it all off, but the hurt hung thick in the air around me. It was all I could see, feel, and breathe. I was consumed by the pain and there was no escaping it.

I wrapped my arms around my knees, hugging myself as I rocked slowly and sang in my head, begging reality to shut off.

It felt like hours, days even, that I tried to calm myself, praying that Derek would come back and tell me it was all going to be okay. But I knew that wouldn’t happen. That wasn’t who he was. I knew exactly what he was doing.

I thought of my father’s old, rusty razor, caked in dried blood. I wanted the release, a place for the feelings to go. I wanted the tangible proof of the pain that was consuming me from the inside out. Maybe if Derek saw it, he wouldn’t be able to deny what he was doing to me. Maybe then he would stop and things could change.

I pulled myself up on shaky legs as I glanced around the room with blurred vision. Stumbling into the bedroom, I grabbed my iPod and hooked it into my portable speakers, finding my favorite escape easily. The sound of Lynyrd Skynyrd filled the room as I let the sobs rip from my chest.

I struggled against the overwhelming urge, squeezing my fists so tightly, my nails dig into the tender flesh of my palms. The small bite of pain was not enough of a release. I stalked off to the bathroom and pulled open the shower curtain. My razor sat on the edge of the tub, begging me to use it. I was like a druggie needing a fix. The urge was overwhelming. It was no longer a matter of if but when.

I cupped my hand over my mouth as the hurt overwhelmed me. Only one thing could take that away, make me feel better.

I spun around and pulled open the door to my room and made my way to E.