Stained

Chapter 27

I've been trying my hardest to avoid him for the past three days, yet here I am, holding onto him like my life depends on it. Funny how life works.

Past the fogginess clouding my brain, the reason why I was avoiding him bombards its way through like a thunderstorm.

I push away from Damien. "No." How could I so easily forget what he did?

Damien stands before me in silence, watching me with blank cold eyes. He knows why I pushed him away.

For the past three days he's been trying to approach me in class and outside of it, and each time I've managed to run away from him.

If only my body didn't freeze up on me I could've done so again.

"A—."

"Don't," I shake my head. "I don't want to hear it."

He sighs. "I was going to ask if you're okay?"

"I'm great." And with that, I turn on my heels and leave. I don't want to hear his crap excuses. We're not friends, he doesn't have to explain himself to me.

"Rose wait."

I don't and for once it's not because he called me Rose again.

I'm two steps away from the house when he grabs my arm. I whirl around and yank it out of his grasp. "Don't touch me!"

"Hear me out," he pleads, his eyes imploring.

I look away. "I don't want to hear it so leave me alone."

He starts closing the distance between us but when I narrow my eyes at him, he stops. "It's not what you think. I fucking swear it."

"I said I don't want to hear it!" I shout. People around us look at me like I'm insane. I let out a breath of frustration and plaster on a big, fake smile. "Thank you for helping me with that guy. Goodbye."

Damien steps in front of me. "One minute. Just give me one minute of your time. I'll explain everything."

You have got to be kidding me. "What part of I don't want to hear it don't you understand? Do I have to say it in another language?" I only know a little bit of Turkish from my mum though I doubt he knows the language.

I try moving around him but he bombards my way. The action arises memories within me but I will them away. Not now. I will not break down in front of Damien.

"What do you want from me? Are you trying to get revenge because I slapped you?" It's the only explanation as to why he's being so persistent. Well other than sleeping with me.

The question appears to disgust him. "No...fuck no." Seeming aggravated, he runs a hand through his hair and tugs. "I didn't fake pity to fuck you. I never pitied you to begin with. Any—."

Forgetting about my bad wrist for the millionth time this week, I cover my ears. Luckily, I manage to suppress my wince. "I don't want to hear it."

I know I'm being unfair by jumping to my own conclusions and then not hearing him out about it, but a part of me is mortified over him seeing my scars. Over him cleaning them.

He didn't make me feel it, but I feel degraded in a sense I can't justify or comprehend. It's a strange feeling that nags at me each time i see him and think about him. I'm not sure if it's me feeling degraded exactly or something else entirely because I've never felt it before. However, all I know is it feels horrible.

And because of that reason, I don't want him mentioning my scars or what happened or why he did it because I'm scared it'll grow worse. So I'll do what I'm good at: I'll pretend it never happened.