11
Skye
Ineed to get away from home, but is this the best way? In some small apartment, with some dude who needs therapy as much as I do? My fingers graze the healing cuts on my hip, and I long for a release that isn’t in this shitty apartment.
With a sigh, I drag myself out of bed and get dressed. My feet shuffle as I walk out of the bedroom. Kevin is in the living room, watching TV. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence.
Rude.
I’m hungry, which is weird. I never notice the feeling of hunger anymore. I will the gnawing ache away and walk into the living room like a scared animal. Apprehension cushions each silent step. I sit on a chair and tuck my legs under me.
He’s handsome. His eyes are the color of rich dark chocolate. The expensive kind. His hair is as dark as a night sky devoid of stars. If I had any interest in men, maybe he’d be something I’d like.
He catches me staring at him.
“Can I help you?” he asks. Beads of sweat slick his skin.
“Are you sick?”
His gaze drops, and he shakes his head. His chest rises as he tries to steady his breath. I recognize that look. It’s how I feel whenever memories rip through my brain and splay out in front of my mind.
“No, I’m fine,” he says.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No!” His gaze snaps to me.
With a gruff sound, he stands and heads to the kitchen. When he comes back into the room, a sleeve of cookies rests in his hand. He hands one to me as he passes, and I take it between two fingers. He sits on the couch and kicks his legs up.
“Cookies for breakfast?” I ask with a rise in my brow.
“Only perk of being an adult, sweetheart.”
The way he says sweetheart makes me swallow hard.
Aside from the crunching as Kevin chews his snack, silence hangs between us. I hold the chocolate cookie and rub my fingers along the grooves. The nag of hunger whispers through me again.
Eat it.
Don’t you dare.
I bet it's delicious.
Don’t listen.
“Why aren’t you eating?” His voice pulls me away from the internal struggle.
“I’m not hungry,” I say.
Kevin stares at me, his eyes growing narrow. “Is this what your mom meant?”
I stare into his dark eyes and tighten my lips. With my eyes locked on his, I bring the cookie to my lips and take a mouse-sized bite. The delicious taste of chocolate hits my tongue, filling me with guilt.
He cocks his head. “I need you to tell me what this is.” He gestures to me. “It looks like it physically hurts you to take a bite of that fucking cookie.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Do you think I’m stupid, Skye? Is the word ignorant written on my fucking forehead?”
His words are laced with accusation. It makes my stomach twist, and the hunger recedes into the depths of me. I don’t respond, dropping my gaze to my lap. The cuts on my thighs rub against my jeans.
“Are you listening to me?” he demands. He stands and positions his body beside me.
I feel so small in comparison. Sweat beads on my skin, and my chest rises on a rolling wave of anxiety. He sounds like my father.
My body reacts ahead of my thoughts, and I curl into a ball. I squeeze my eyes closed, singing a sad song in my head. A loud hum fills the space between my ears. It drowns out the sound of anything else. Words form beside me, but I can’t understand them. My heart thumps against my chest so hard that I wonder if it will rip through my flesh.
“Are you listening to me?” he says as he grabs me by my hair.
He twists my arm, and unbearable pain follows the pop I hear. His fist buries itself in my stomach, and his hand rises until it’s beneath my diaphragm. Air leaves my lungs. A gasping breath can’t even fill the void his fist leaves behind. I pant as I fall to the ground. Pain rips through my dislocated shoulder. When he leaves, I lay on my back as my chest hitches from the torment. I replace my dislocated shoulder as I’ve done so many times before. After I hear the familiar pop, I relax against the cold floor.
Warm arms wrap around me, ripping me away from the memory. My body tenses. I don’t like to be touched. The rhythmic pulse of his heart becomes louder as he draws my head into him. Tension rips my body apart—everything feels rigid and contorted.
“Hey, shh,” he says, and I can finally hear the words coming from his mouth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
My body becomes my own again. Sweat drips down the back of my shirt, rolling along the curve of my back. Warm tears drip onto my chest, and I wipe them away. It’s embarrassing.
He clutches me against him. I blink and push him away from me. He looks at me with equal parts concern and confusion as I wipe my tears away.
“I have to go.” I nearly knock him backward as I stand. “I need to leave.” My voice quivers as I grab my backpack off the floor by the door.
Kevin rushes forward, grabs the doorknob as I reach for it, and says the words that would make any woman freak out at this point.
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
Will I end up chained in a goddamn basement?
He realizes what he said and retraces his words. “That’s not what I mean. I meant you can’t leave like this.”
“I don’t want to be here with you,” I say with unintentional harshness.