17: While You Were Being Patted On The Back, I Was Being Used To Ruin People

ASHTON

A click of a lock brings my feet to a halt. Instantly, I turn on the person. It’s Carden sneaking in again. He doesn’t show an ounce of emotion toward my anger and disdain. In fact, he taunts me with a smile. A half-cocked, half-assed, joke of a smile.

“If you are here to see if I cut my own hand off in disgust, you can leave,” I wave the marked hand in the air, “it's still attached, thanks to there being no knives in the kitchen.” I don’t acknowledge that I have a blade in my bag. I’m saving that for something dire…if that day ever comes.

“I came to get you for dinner.”

I stare at him blankly. Dumbfounded by his words. So simple, but so tormenting. “Dinner.”

“As Zayne requested. You do remember that conversation don’t you?”

“Not really.” I joke. “I tend to block out mediocre conversation when traumatic events are at play.”

“Give it a few days and it’ll feel better.” If this is him being nice, I’m not up for it.

“What will feel better exactly? My ego or my hand?”

“You’re hand,