You Have My Attention

Thirty

« Winter's POV »

You aren't afraid of the dark. You're afraid of what lurks inside of it. You aren't afraid of the ocean. You're afraid that those big sharks are gonna come and eat you alive. You aren't afraid of heights. You're afraid of falling and then splattering into a million pieces on the ground.

You aren't of afraid of anything. You're afraid of what happens because of something.

Fear exists only in the mind. That's a famous quote from somebody somewhere who was at one point telling the needed-to-hear truth. We are brave because we overcome what's in our mind instead of trying to shove it down into our throats. That's what makes you courageous.

I'm not afraid of Vincent Chandler.

I'm afraid of what he's going to do to me, and he's the only one who can delegate it.

Therefore, I say, "Yes, I fear Vince, my
ex-boyfriend who beat me for buying the wrong shoes." So maybe I just have a fear of shoes, and whatever other purchases I incorrectly make. My point is, I am not afraid of him, more so what his specific capabilities are.

Such as burning my skin with cigarettes in a cold cell.

I watch as he taps the cigarette box while watching me watch him. The cardboard hits the arm rest of his chair every second at a steady beat. He looks bored, chin resting in his hand as he stares at me, deep in thought.

"I...How come you hurt me?" I ask eventually, the familiar sound of the dripping pipe in the background backing me up in agreement.

Sam stands behind Vincent, arms crossed and eyes angry. I wonder if she could possess him and make him kill himself. But I don't think she'd want to take part in controlling a body as disgusting as Chandler's.

"I never hurt you unless you needed to understand a point I was trying to get across," he replies, rubbing his forehead. "You make it sound like I was using you as some sort of punching bag."

Sam snorts and rolls her eyes, flipping him off from behind. I swallow nervously, somehow worried he'd turn around and harm her despite being unable to see or touch her at all.

"You did, Vince," I say quietly. "In a relationship you're supposed to communicate to get your point across. You aren't supposed to abuse the person you love."

He scoffs, opening up the cigarette package. Then he leans forward to pull a lighter out of his back pocket, burning the tip of the cancer stick so it smokes.

"Abuse," he echoes mockingly, like it's the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "I never abused you. I love you. You're mine. And clearly, I didn't punish you enough to get that through your head because you went and ran off with that son of a bitch!" His voice rises with every word until he snaps the cigarette with an increasing grip. He curses and grabs another, stepping on the broken one to rub out the remaining embers.

Sam raises her eyebrows and gives me a look. I look away shamefully. I can see now from a different perspective how insane I was to see passed any of his flaws in order to date him. The cons outweigh the pros in any comparison. It's frightening.

"Kason is the best thing that ever happened to me," I mumble, earning a dark look from him. "He treats me right."

"He doesn't love you like I do," he protests, leaning closer with fire in his eyes. "No one will ever love you like I do."

"I'd hope not."

A scowl appears on his face quicker than I've ever seen one occur. In an instant, he brings the lighted tip of the cigarette into the air and presses it onto my upper thigh. I cry out painfully, tears immediately coming forth as he twists it twice to deepen the wound before flicking it away.