Page 16 of Splintered Desire

If this were anyone else, I would have already decked him. I’ve hit people for less, but this is different.

I don’t want to mess with Dad's happiness, not to mention I don’t need him sniffing around too close to my secret, and that could definitely give him a hint.

Instead, I take a deep breath before turning to face him.

“I will not jeopardize my future because of your little fight club. You might not need college, but I do.” I force out the words with a false sweetness, but I know it doesn’t matter how I say them. My face tells him exactly how I feel. It always does.

I yank my arm from his grip. His nails scrape my skin, but I don’t feel it right now. I have no doubt it will sting later, but right now I’m too keyed up.

Without looking back, I walk to my dresser and grab my clothes before making my way back to the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind me. I’d hoped to prove a point, give him a metaphorical middle finger, if you will, but the second the door falls closed, my anxiety spikes.

My bag is out there.

How had I been so stupid to leave it out? I’d thought this room could be my safe haven, but I know better.

Nothing is safe. I learned that lesson a long time ago, yet somehow it’s still coming back to bite me in the ass.

My vision swims, and I focus on my breathing, slowly inhaling for five seconds before exhaling the same way, until my panic begins to settle and my vision clears.

Yet another thing I can thank Ozy for. I’d suffered from terrible panic attacks when I was younger, ever since the incident. He’d been the one to teach me to focus on my breathing. We’d tried a few coping mechanisms he’d looked into at the library, but that was the only one that worked.

Well, there was one other way, but it wasn’t available anymore.

Fuck, please let him leave without snooping around my stuff. I’m not sure who I’m praying to. I gave up believing in any higher power a long time ago, but I’m desperate right now.

I get dressed as fast as I can, throwing a brush through my hair, only to stand in front of the door and count to one hundred before I open it. I don’t want to come out in a rush and have Kolson thinking I’m trying to hide something, even though that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Yanking the door open, I sag in relief when I sweep the area and find it empty, exactly how I left it. My bag still lies on the ground, and I hurry to scoop it up and toss it onto my bed. I’m about to open it when I think better of it; paranoia getting the better of me. Instead, I drop to the floor to check under my bed, then check my closet. Once I’m satisfied that I’m alone, I run to my door and flip the lock before heading back to the bed to check my bag.

Everything looks like it should; nothing looks like it was gone through, and honestly, I don’t think Kolson is the type to stay quiet. If he found out who I am, that I fight for him, and that I’m the object of his and his brothers' fantasies…

No, there’s no way he would just walk away knowing that. However, I don’t love the thought of what he would do instead.

Nope, I’m crazy enough all on my own; I don’t need more crazy in my life, no matter how good-looking they are.

Satisfied that my identity is safe, I grab my bag and head into the bathroom, shoving it to the back of the closet behind the door, which is full of towels and not much else.

I let the closet door fall closed. Pressing my back against it, I slide down to sit on the ground as I try to get myself under control.

I can’t afford to make stupid mistakes, not with them so close.

I push to my feet and wander out to my bed, the weight of everything crashing down on me and pulling me under before I can even crawl under the covers.

Sunday

After the fight and being out so late, I actually slept in, waking up after the sun had already risen, thank God. Even better yet, I get to start my day with a cup of coffee. The house is quiet as I make my way down to the kitchen. I regret not putting socks on the second my foot hits the stairs that are cold as ice, but I’m too close to turn around now.

I don’t understand what they have against carpet. The stuff in my room is so soft that if this were my house, I would have it in every damn room. I could literally lie down and take a nap on it.

The kitchen is just as empty and quiet as the rest of the house, and I let out a little sigh of relief, having made it uninterrupted.

Now, let’s see if my luck can hold.

It takes me forever to figure out the fancy coffee maker, and even longer for it to brew a cup. While the black liquid of the gods slowly fills my cup, I make my way to the fridge to see what I can eat.

Holy fucking shit.

There's more food in this fridge than I’ve ever seen in someone’s house before, not that I’ve seen many people's fridges. My dad and I had survived on less than a third of this for the last two years, and damn near nothing before that.