Page 78 of Scream For Me
The weight of his words sits heavy in my chest, and it aches.
“I would burn this entire city to its core before I ever let anyone hurt you,” he says as he closes the space between us.
I stiffen and hold my hand up, stopping him in his tracks. “I need time, Elias,” I tell him again, ignoring the look of pain on his face.
I don’t care that I’m still in his shirt as I walk outside, the cool morning air pebbling my skin. As the door closes behind me, I can’t help but think—is it that I don’t trust him, or am I just afraid of ghosts?
Because the problem isn’t just what Elias is or what he’s done.
It’s everything I survived before him.
Thirty-Four
Kat
Skinnyman – Static-X
The coarse threads of my sofa dig into my thighs, making them itch. Freddie sits on my lap where he’s purred himself to sleep. It’s been thirty-six hours since I walked out of Elias’ house.
Thirty-six hours of silence.
He hasn’t tried to call me, text me, or drop by. I swear I heard my phone pinging last night when I was asleep, but when I checked it this morning, the screen was blank.
He’s giving you the space you asked for.
So why does it feel like a fucking rejection?
Silence shouldn’t feel this loud. I expected something. A knock, a message, or even anger. But there’s been nothing. I have spent the last day and a half replaying our last conversation in my mind. Everything that he is and does is exactly what I’m trying to run from. Even though I don’t know exactly what he’s involved with, I know enough.
My stomach tightens as I try to hold onto that feeling, the one that’s kept me alive this long. My fingers tighten in Freddie’s fur as I try to summon the instinct and force it to take hold. But it doesn’t come.
When I think of Elias, all I feel is the exact opposite of what I should be feeling. All I feel is warmth in my chest and… safety. Am I that fucked up that some good sex completely scrambles any sense of self-preservation that I have? The thought lands like acid in my stomach. Maybe I am broken. Maybe somewhere along the way, my instincts stopped working the way they’re supposed to. I got comfortable, and I let my guard down at the worst possible moment. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He’s different.
Over the last thirty-six hours, the possibility that I overreacted has definitely crossed my mind on more than one occasion. The world is a better place without that blonde scumbag walking it. But who am I to decide who gets to live and who dies? My heart and my head are constantly at war. My brain is screaming at me to run, to pick everything up and start again somewhere else—I’ve done it before, I can do it again. I know how to disappear. New town, new name, new job. I can do it. But my limbs grow tight at the thought, like I’m tired of something that hasn’t happened yet. I know Icando it—I just don’t know how many more times I can survive it.
But my heart is more subtle.
My heart is a gentle caress in the shape of his palm. It’s telling me to stay. It’s telling me that I can’t run forever, and I deserve happiness. His voice creeps into my thoughts, and I remember the way he says my name. The way he always asks for permission, how I’m always in control even when I’m not.
Elias is nothing like him. He’s never raised his voice. He’s never hurt me. He’s shown me nothing but compassion and care, which somehow makes it worse. If he were cruel and cold, this would be so much fucking easier. I could leave this city withouta second look. But he isn’t, and that makes it so much fucking harder.
Freddie leaps down from my lap, beelining towards his bowl of food. I take this as my cue to get up and start pacing. The floorboards creak beneath my feet. Back and forth. Back and forth. I’ve paced so hard over the last thirty-six hours that I’ve almost worn a path between the couch and the kitchen sink. Thinking, then overthinking, then thinking again.
Maybe I don’t need to commit to staying or trusting him. Maybe I could just… hear him out? My fingernails bite into my palm at the thought. I don’t even know what I’d say. And I don’t even know if I’d believe what he says.
I’ve almost worn a hole in the floorboards when there’s a knock on the door.
In the doorway stands Harper, a look of concern on her face and a huge tub of expensive chocolate ice cream in her arms.
“You sounded like you needed the big guns. I also have a lighter in my pocket if we’re at the burning pictures stage… or his house. Whichever works.” She shrugs and walks inside.
The smell of chocolate drifts through the room as she drops her bag on the entryway table. I wrap my arms around her and hold on longer than normal. She doesn’t say anything, just squeezes me tighter.
We make our way to the kitchen and sit around the island. For a few minutes, neither of us speaks. The hum of the old refrigerator. Mrs. Jenkins stomping around upstairs. Somewhere outside, a car beeps its horn. Normal sounds for a normal evening. My chest tightens at it all. Even when your world is cracked in two, the world keeps moving.
“Do we need bowls or is it a straight-from-the-tub moment?” Harper asks, holding up two spoons.
