Cade
Those gray,stormy eyes flung to mine in an instant. It almost knocked me down with how intense they were. The moon cascaded a glow over her face, catching the glassy look in the little storm clouds, and her mouth parted in exasperation.
“Show you?” she whispered, keeping a hold of my gaze like the brave fighter that she was.
I nodded, heart pounding viciously underneath my hoodie. What am I doing? I gripped her chin tighter, and although there were things going through my head that made me want to ram my fist into the window, I knew that this wasn’t about me. This was about her and the internal fight she was having with herself. She seemed confused and torn, like she wanted to rid herself of what had happened but also slightly afraid to say the words.
I’d been there.
I’d been there with her. I couldn’t even manage to hear her name after she left.
“Sometimes, facing your trauma can be therapeutic.” I shrugged, lowering my voice even more, as if someone could hear us. “It might show you something about what happened that’s currently clouded with judgment.”
She sounded out of breath. “What are you? Some psychology guru?”
A deep chuckle left me. “I read a book while you were gone. It said something similar.”
There was the smallest flicker of surprise in her stormy gaze. “You read a book?”
“I’ve read a lot of books since you’ve left. All of your favorites, actually.”
The tight look on Journey’s face softened as her eyes bounced back and forth between mine. I wondered if she could feel how wound up I was. My pulse thudded, my heart skipped a beat every few seconds, and my fingers sparked with anticipation to touch her again.
After a painful minute or two, Journey slowly backed away from me, taking my billowing hope in her two hands and crushing it. Come back.
My throat began to dry out, and I couldn’t seem to swallow enough times to breathe correctly. I was twisted up and confused. Every emotion that I had stowed away since she’d disappeared was back, and they were crashing into my back like a tidal wave. Worry, fear, hope, jealousy, protection, possession. I wanted to grab her, lose myself in her kiss, smother her with everything I felt for her, and then demand she understand that she was mine and that she was safe with me.
My breath hitched as the back of Journey’s knees hit the bed. My pulse suddenly jumped when she pulled the black hoodie over her head, allowing her light hair to fall in waves over her shoulders. Her tentative gaze found mine, and it was like seeing a ghost. For a single, fleeting second, she was my Journey. The Journey that was innocent and full of life, who wanted a taste of rebellion and held onto me for dear life while surrounded by night.
“What are you doing?” I asked, leaning against the windowsill as she sat down on the bed and swung her legs over top. She looked like fucking Sleeping Beauty with her hair spilled around her, lying still right there for the taking.
“Showing you my ugly scars.” Her whisper was soft but poised. “The ones that no one can see.”
The only sound in the room was our uneven breathing. My breaths were deep and thundering as she lay completely still.
Too much time had passed, and the only thing it did was speed up my temptation. I waited for her to make a move. I gave her the space she needed, although all I wanted to do was stride over to her and climb on top to make her forget everything that hurt her.
Her voice croaked, almost too low to hear. “At first, when I got here, my behavior was volatile. It's no wonder they kept putting me on medication. I acted erratically, shoving and kicking. I screamed so loud sometimes that I would lose my voice.” She huffed out a light laugh. “Which came in handy when it was time for group therapy. At least I didn’t have to talk.”
There was a long silence after she spoke, and I knew that she didn’t need a response. She didn’t need me to tell her everything was okay. She just needed to rid herself of the ugly that came with going through some fucked-up shit.
“I realized they weren’t going to believe my story after about a month of trying.” Journey’s head turned to me, and our gazes crashed like two cars going full speed up ahead. “That was when I began to change.”
“Change can be good,” I said, gripping the edge of the windowsill that I sat on. Is she purposefully lying on that bed to taunt me?
“I started to make friends.”
“With the other patients?”
Her response was quick. “No. With the staff.”
Fuck, I know where this is going.And I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it, but again, this wasn’t about me. This was about her.
“The nurses would come do bed checks, as if they knew the locks on those doors were shitty. They’d make sure we were all tucked inside our rooms, safe for the night.”
My nostrils flared with unshed anger. “And were you safe?”
She thought for a moment. “Yes. I guess. But…” Her head turned to me again, her soft expression hiding the realness of what she was feeling. “I had to make them think they could trust me.”