A/N

As always - beta'd by Fran & Pre-read by the talented, Kate and Pearly

xo

Chapter Six: Tastes like Regret

Bella

xXx

I sit at the bottom of the shower, hugging my knees to my chest, the water chasing away my tears. There's an ache under my ribs that won't go away, the look on Masen's face when he spun around and ran out of my room, the sound he made. That broken whimper. My stomach twists, and I wonder if I'm going to throw up again. I've already been sick twice.

I've done bad things before, plenty of them. But this feels different. I shouldn't have done that. I knew touching him would upset him; I just didn't realize how badly. I made him have a panic attack.

That's fucked up.

I'm fucked up.

I fucked up.

Shit.

I gingerly touch my throat. He hadn't even gripped me that hard, but he should have; I wouldn't have blamed him. What I did...that wasn't okay. I know that. I hadn't done it maliciously, I mean, I knew he wouldn't like it, but I was bored, and I wanted to see what my design would look like drawn on someone, I hadn't realized he was panicking until he whimpered and ran off, and then it was too late. I'd frozen, my heart sinking in my chest. The anger in those red-rimmed green eyes when he'd told me not to touch him again, the way he'd spoken to me, I deserved that too. He should hate me, and that's okay; I want him to.

I rest my cheek on my knee, guilt twisting around in my stomach, pummelling it around, my hands shaking against my throat. I feel fucking awful. He'd been drinking; I could smell it on his breath. My guilt deepens, its vines stretching across my chest and constricting it.

I'd done that to him—made him feel so fucked up he had to down half a bottle of vodka just to deal. I've had a panic attack before, had several. I should have recognized the signs, shouldn't have been so distracted by his body, by his ink.

I hadn't been able to help myself from touching some of it; his skin was so smooth and warm under my fingertips, his muscled torso dotted with tattoos and pink scars, some of them marring his ink, twisting across him in slashes and rivets.

When he'd run, it had taken me a second to process what I'd done, to process that I'd taken a step too far, and then I'd quickly gone to his room to apologize, knowing I needed to say something. Opening that door, he'd looked so...broken, furious, utterly furious, but also sad.

I swallow, something twisting under my ribs. There were birthday cards on his desk.

Was it his birthday today?

Yesterday?

Is it tomorrow?

I lean my head back against the wall, taking a shaky breath. I don't care about Masen, and I don't fucking like him. I want him to quit, I do, and that hasn't changed. But if he stays, if he doesn't leave, I won't touch him again. I need to apologize to him for what I did and reassure him I'll never do that again.

There's the taste of bile in my mouth again, and I swallow it down, the hot water pounding onto me, drumming against my scalp.

God, I hope he just fucking leaves. I don't want to have to face him. How can I face him after what I did?

I force myself to get off the floor and wash my hair.

When I'm out of the shower and bundled up in pajamas on my bed, I FaceTime Rose.

The phone dings, and she appears on the screen, walking down her hallway.

"Hey," she greets me with a grin, turning her head to the side suddenly. "Get out of my way, Conor, and you, Patrick, for fuck's sake, where's the au pair? Margo!"

Rose scowls, and I fight a smile as I see Margo race down the hallway, looking panicked.

Rose slams a door behind her and then falls on her bed, lying on her stomach, finally looking at me. Instantly she frowns.

"Shit, what's wrong?"

I bite down on my bottom lip, "I did something fucked up." My eyes water, and Rose frowns.

"What did you do, B? Talk to me, babe."

I swallow heavily, "I...Mas-Fido, he doesn't like to be touched, and I knew that...but I was trying to piss him off, and I was bored, and I started to draw this design that's been on my mind the past few weeks and…" My voice cracks, "I forced him to stand there while I did it Rose, and he had a panic attack…"

Rose's blue eyes widen, and her mouth opens and then closes. "B…"

I press my hand to my face. "I feel so fucking bad."

"B, I think-" she's cut off with a crashing sound, and the phone moves to just display the white ceiling as I hear her snap, "I'm on the fucking phone, you assholes! Get the fuck out of here. Margo!"

There's a torrent of rapid French, and Rose follows with her own torrent of French in return before there's another burst of boyish laughter and the sound of a door shutting. The camera's picked up, and I see Rose's face with an irritated expression.

"Sorry B, the twins are on 'half-term,' and they're driving me fucking crazy. I thought the point of my mom sending them to boarding school in Europe was so we wouldn't have to deal with them. Ugh." She grimaces and then shakes her head, "Right...um, explain the whole thing to me because I don't really get it."

I sigh, rubbing my cheek. "I called him into my room, made him take off his shirt, and then touched him, but only to draw on him...and then, before I realized what had happened, he was having a panic attack."

"Did you apologize?" Rose's eyebrows furrow, her blue eyes wide and contemplative.

"I tried," I say quietly, "He...wasn't in the mood to be apologized to."

Rose bites her lip, "Why did he let you do that?"

I cough, "I might have...insinuated that he'd get fired if he didn't." I don't tell her that I threatened to have him killed, Rose wouldn't understand, and besides, it was an empty threat.

Rose grimaces at me. "Okay, so what are you gonna do?"

I sigh, "I have to apologize. I'm hoping he quits. He should quit, right?"

"I don't know B...he might, but, if he doesn't…"

"I wouldn't ever do that again," I say adamantly. "I'll still keep trying to make him quit; I just won't touch him at all."

"Okay," Rose nods, smiling softly at me.

"Can you do me a favor?" I ask her, biting my bottom lip, "SJ isn't coming until 10:30 tomorrow, and Masen goes home at 12 pm. Can you get Dianne to run into town for me?"

xXx

I sleep in fitful bursts, my mind constantly replaying the look on Masen's face when he left my room. Guilt tears up my insides, making my heart beat too quickly in my chest. I don't care about being a bitch to him; I don't regret anything else I've done...I want him to quit, after all, but touching him...I'd known it was a line; I'd chosen to cross it, not really understanding what it would entail. I'm not a monster.

Forcing someone into a panic attack, that's different than making them cry or feel like shit. Masen's reaction to me, I know what it means. Someone did that to him once, maybe in prison, maybe before…

I don't want to exploit his abuse. That's a step too far. I refuse to be as bad a person as the rest of my family.

If Masen is stupid enough to stay on here, I'm not going to go easy on him; I'll still knock his bowl to the floor, I'll still call him Fido and talk shit about him because that's what I do. My childish tactics seem small at first, but they're effective, incredibly effective. I don't need to resort to touching him in order to make him quit.

When I get up to brush my teeth, I gasp quietly at the finger-shaped bruises, faint against my neck. I can cover them up with makeup later, so I'm not too worried. I chuck on one of Cilian's hoodies, the neck is nice and high, covering my throat, and it's warm and cozy.

The floor is silent when I leave my room, and I stare at Masen's door for a moment, biting my lip before I sneak down the hallway and go downstairs.

Our bedrooms are on the top floor, one of four, though technically five if you count the garage underneath. The third floor has bedrooms for various guests, and one of them belongs to Emmett, not that he ever uses it.

I never go to the second floor.

When I get downstairs, I can hear the soft sound of the radio in the kitchen, along with the light cluttering of dishes. A warm white light streams in from the large windows in the foyer, and the marble is cool against my bare feet as I pad across the floor. walking into the kitchen.

Our chef, Pattie, is standing at the huge, white marble island, her heavily creased eyes half fixed on the TV attached to the wall as she prepares food, several knives, and chopping boards surrounding her. "Good morning, Isabella," she greets me, giving me a warm smile, her brown eyes staring into mine, "Do you want something to eat?"

"Just coffee," I tell her, sitting down at one of the stools behind the kitchen island, drumming my long nails on the marble. Pattie is new, and I miss Naomi, the chef I'd grown up with. She'd retired a few months ago, and Pattie doesn't make eggs the same or smile at me the same.

I sigh, tucking a tendril of hair that's fallen from my bun behind my ear.

The coffee machine makes a low hum, and Pattie turns her head to me. "SJ will be here at 10; I think she was going to pop to the store; do you need anything?"

I shake my head, giving her a small smile when she places a frothy white coffee in front of me. "Thanks," I say quietly.

The coffee is hot and bitter, and the foamy milk is sweet against my lips as I take a few sips. The doorbell rings, and I shake my head at Pattie. "I got it."

She nods at me and goes back to chopping. On Saturdays, we have family brunch at 1 pm with everyone. I scowl at the thought. I'd begged Rose to come last night, and she said she would, the fear of facing Emmett, not as bad as having to endure the day with the twins. Having Rose here is such a good buffer; no one talks shop that way, and no one insists on talking to me either.

I open the door and smile at Rose standing in the doorway, looking as radiant as always, her blonde hair straightened and parted in the middle. She's wearing pale pink eyeshadow and dressed in brown, thigh-high, suede boots with a similar colored high-necked dress that hugs her willowy frame and goes all the way down to her knees.

"You look so pretty!" I tell her with a grin, tugging her inside.

Our fingers interlock, and she hugs me, the smell of her floral perfume incredibly comforting as I press my face into her shoulder.

"You okay?" she asks me, pulling back with a frown.

I nod, and she holds up a white bag. "I got it."

"Thank you," I grin. We walk over to the counter and ask Pattie to make her a coffee.

A/N A shorter one I know - but you MIGHT get another this week, maybe, you know, if you want another - do you? :)

I posted a Vikingward oneshot today - go check it out if you like historical fics :D

Hope you are having an amazing start to the week! I am back to working full time again from tomorrow so my plate is about to get veeery full lol - but I'll keep you updated if anything is going to change. As of now - keeping to one update a week for WG and one for TOTGA :)

Ella xx

P.S Go check out Wild Creatures by Littleashes17 - it's drabble and it's addictive! Tell her I sent you :)