“Hey! Look at me!” He practically shakes me.
I snap my eyes open and look at him, his eyes are frantic, adrenaline pumping through both of us.
“I’m. Not. Him.” he repeats.
“Fuck!” I scream out frustrated at myself for failing this training. “I lost.”
“What?” He looks at me, his whole face scrunching up as he keeps his eyes on me.
“I failed the training. I couldn’t keep my shit together and I lost. You won.” I stand quickly.
“There’s no failing. There is no winner or loser.”
“Yes, yes there is. I should be able to defend myself, but instead I am here crying while I have visions of my brother attacking me again.” I pace back and forth in front of him.
“We are here to fix it. To help you fix this.” He gets to his feet now.
“We?” I chuckle to myself.
“Elliott. You can fix this.”
"I don't know how to fix it, Marcus! You don't think if I knew the fucking magic words I would have said them by now!?" I can’t stop the anger from building inside me, from screaming at the person trying to help me."I don't want to feel this way. There is this part of me that needs to rip this layer of skin off of me and let the new me fucking show!"
"What is the new you?"
I try to level my breathing, but the rapid inhales won't stop. "Someone who takes what they want. Owns someone like they tried to own me." I look to the floor, tears start to well in my eyes, "How fucked up is that? How fucked up amI?" I throw my hands up, letting them drop with a loud smack as they hit my thighs.
"You aren't fucked up, Elliott. You are traumatized. You experienced a traumatic event, and you are just trying to heal and process it."
"I don't want—"
"You don't get a choice if you feel this or not. Your only choice is how you are going to go about it. What are you gonna chooseto do to help yourself heal?" He huffed out a breath. "How do you want to process this, Elliott? No shame, no judgment, no rules. What. Do. You. Need?"
I eye him, weary of whether he actually wants a response.
"Why do you care?" He doesn’t reply, he just clenches his jaw and scans my face. "You don't like me, you don't even want to be around me. So, why do you care, Marcus?"
"You think I don't care?" He strides towards me with long steps, "You think I would be here right now, teaching you these fucking defensive moves if I didn't care in some aspect?" He chuckles sarcastically, "Fucking hell. You drive me fucking insane."
"Exactly! So why do you care?"
"Because I can't fucking help it!" He slams his hand on the bark, right next to my head, "I can't get you out of my damn mind. I can't stop picturing your face broken in that bath tub when I first picked you up, or the way you roll your eyes at my asshole remarks. I can't stop picturing the way Hunter and Kameron had your sweet cunt on display in his office to enjoy every last drop you gave them. The way you eyed me as if you were inviting me to join in…" His eyes hooded, darting them to my lips and returning them to my gaze with a heat in them. "You make it hard to decipher between hate and lust."
"Hate? Lust?"
"Yeah, a good hate fuck I guess."
I glare at him and he pushes me further against the tree.
"You want a good fuck from me? That’s it?" I push my hand on his chest, and he stumbles back a little, "Yet, you care about my trauma?" His jaw ticks at my words, I can see the growing annoyance in his eyes.
"Stop thinking everyone is falling in love with you, princess."
I can't help the laugh that leaves me. "I don't think that."
"Could have fooled me with the way you are with Hunter and Kam."
"Says the one who said they can't stop fucking thinking about me, and that they care."
