I part my legs again, spreading the tight black dress as my head falls back in a nostalgic moan. “I wish things didn’t have to be so complicated.”
He’s started throwing his ball again without saying a single word in response. Just a frustrated sigh and quick glance in my direction.
“Do you remember the other day in the classroom? The things you did to me against that wall,” my voice trails off into an almost whisper.
He coldly pushes back, “Ophelia, stop it. Everything’s different now.”
I grow still, feeling embarrassed. And also afraid, worried about what’s happened since then that’s changed everything so much. I have to remember he has the upper hand. He knows more than he’s telling me.
I have to stop thinking about him like this anyway. It makes no sense. There are much bigger things going on. My life is in danger. I shouldn’t be pining for some boy…especially when that boy is one of the people tormenting me.
He hangs his head in exasperation and heaves a sigh, “I don’t know what you want from me. I just want this all to be over with. I have to be careful or…”
“Or what?” I try again, needing him to look at me – to want me the way he used to. The way he did just last night. I need a distraction from everything that just happened with his father. The fear of the unknown and what happens next. “I know you’re keeping something from me. Just tell me.”
“I can’t do this right now. Why can’t you understand that? You don’t listen to me,” he grumbles. It’s a relief to see him angry but calm. To know he’s capable of less than the extremes I’ve seen up until now.
“Where’s Vivian been this whole time?” I ask finally. I’m curious, but also seeing how many different nerves I can strike. Hop
ing one of them will make him spill whatever it is he’s hiding.
He shakes his head, not answering me.
“Did you two break up?” I ask lightly, trying to sound indifferent.
“Oh, just because she’s not around for your kidnapping you assume we broke up?” he snaps back with an arrogant grin, his brows raised. “What’s it to you anyway, Ophelia?”
Now I grow silent, angry that he even needs to ask why I care with everything I’ve said to him. He thinks it’s all just an act. I wish it was. Mostly I just wish I didn’t say anything at all.
“I need to go to school,” he finally relents, giving up on his fight against me. Needing to retreat somewhere far away from me and this whole mess. I know he doesn’t need to go to school right now. He’s just looking for an escape.
“Take me with you,” I beg urgently, cringing at the thought of being left alone in the same building as his father. “Don’t leave me here alone.”
“I can’t,” he insists sternly. “There’s no way that’s going to happen.”
“Then at least let me loose,” I cry sincerely, feeling unable to bear another few hours of my arms being suspended this way. “Please, Emmett. My arms are killing me. I won’t leave your room.”
“I know you won’t,” he huffs as he marches over, pulling the key from his pocket and unlatching the cuffs. “This door locks from the outside, and I’m the only one who can unlock it.” He holds up the small remote from last night. He clicks the button a few times, prompting the latch of the door to move to and from.
After demonstrating the lock, he finally unlocks my handcuffs again. My arms shake as I groan with their release, wringing the soreness of my wrists.
He gathers his things, refusing to look at me, stopping once before he reaches for the door with a subtle glance over his shoulder. I pray for him to turn around and do whatever is going through his mind, but with another exasperated grunt he carries on his path. The door is swiftly shut and locked from the outside.
I’m relieved to be alone again as he leaves for school, but I would still give anything to be able to go with him. Though I know in reality I am no safer out there than in here, the illusion of freedom, even only for a brief afternoon, would restore me. Give me the strength I need to maybe gain a new perspective. Some new idea of what to do next.
My hands and arms still ache, and I wonder if I can use this time to sleep it off. I am exhausted. Being left alone finally, I try to make the best of it and rest in a way I couldn’t when Emmett was just a foot away. But a strange longing for him lingers. I am once again left with frazzled senses, not knowing if I want to run to him or away from him.
I lay down, relishing in the relief of tension in my body. Time passes slowly as I’m unable to fall asleep. I’m too afraid of what might happen while he’s gone. I know Thomas is lurking out there somewhere, and I can only hope he is too distracted to realize I’m up here all alone. Maybe my dad has responded to him. Maybe he’s finally giving up and giving them what they want. But I know better.
The clock on his bedside table says it’s close to noon. Every time I close my eyes, I swear I see someone moving in the corner of the room, jerking me back awake. Great, I think. Now I’m hallucinating.
I try to stay perfectly still, thinking maybe if I don’t make any noise, Thomas will forget I’m up here all alone. But I can’t lay on the bed anymore. I’m too anxious to stay still.
I pace the room in dreaded anticipation of what happens next. My skin is crawling from the memories of Thomas’s hands on my body, and I swear I can still feel him touching me. I shake it all away, trying to bring myself back to reality. I am alone and safe. For the moment.
But then footsteps thud down the hallway, sending me back into panic.
Anyone would want to run if they were in this position, but being a runner at heart, it’s that much more painful to be so trapped. My legs moving as fast as they can, the wind brushing against me as I leave everything behind, is the only thing that could make me feel better right now.