Sinful Despair

➩𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

He comes up on my left, arching a brow. "You have a gun?"

I snort, "something like that."

Once we're back in my apartment I go straight to the kitchen, taking out a box I've had well hidden for ages.
As I'm opening the box Enzo walks into the kitchen, his eyes locked on the grey mystery box

His eyes widen slightly when I take out the high volt taser that's laid in the same box for several years. Eventually the shocked expression on his face morphs into one with a smirk and proudness coated all over it.

"Like you said. Precautions" I breathe, looking into his deep eyes.

There's a moment of silence before I place the taser back in the box. I won't put it back in its usual spot while he watches, as much as I feel like I can trust him a little more now, I don't want him to know the location of the one thing that'll keep my safe incase something changes.

"You ever use it?" He asks, seeming full on curious.

"No. Not yet." I eye him.

"I told you... I won't hurt you." He takes a step closer to me.

"Right... as tempting as it is" I blink up at him, taking a step back when his large figure surrounds me even more.

"As tempting as it is." He repeats, his eyes bore into mine and for a second, just a second something inside me tells me that we're not talking about hurting each other anymore.

I take a deep breathe and move a few large steps away so that I can get out of this situation before it gets any more uncomfortable.
The box is still in my hands when I walk into my bedroom, locking it behind me so that I can have a few hours of relaxation.

Suddenly my breathe tightens and my clothes feel like they're sitting uncomfortably on my body, I blink and without another thought I drop my bag on my bed and strip all my clothes off.
My eyes come in contact with the full body mirror infront of me, and all off a sudden I feel way to exposed. I haven't been able to look at myself in a mirror like this in ages.

Not because I don't like my stomach, not because I hate my face, my shoulders, hips, thighs and legs.

But because of the sharp scars that paint them.

My thighs and wrists both equally coated in my deadly thoughts that disguise as the aftermath of slicing through my delicate skin.

I shiver, and almost run away from the mirror that I once felt confident posing in. I walk into my bathroom instead, turning on the water to the perfect temperature. I realize my mistake when the hot droplets fall onto my sensitive skin and I wince. Pain sours through my body when I look down at the fresh scars that are displayed uglily on my thighs.

The stinging hurts like a bitch at first, the boiling water gliding uncomfortably through it, however as the minutes passes by it slowly evens out until eventually all I can feel is a numbness. They're swollen and a thick red, I know I shouldn't be so careless when it comes to things like these, I'm a law student I should know better.
But it's not always so easy.

I'm so deep embedded into my thought I don't even realize how long it's passed since I walked into the bathroom. My fingertips feel like raisins and my legs feel stiff for standing up for so long. I turn off the water and dry myself, smothering my body with lotion and applying an oil to my scars. Wrapping a towel around by body I walk out of the bathroom, shivering at the sudden cold breeze so I quickly change into a hoodie and sweats that I know I'll have to take off later because no matter how cold it is there's no way I could ever sleep in clothes that thick.

My stomach grumbles, what have I even ate today? I exit my bedroom with a simple plan to make some noodles, a plan that of course fails when I see Enzo cooking, in my kitchen, his dress shirt opened allowing me to see his muscular chest.