Well, I have my own fucked up little methods of coping, don't I? I couldn't have the girl I love, so Ibecameher.
And every time Cyrus's hands are around my throat, I picture it's me holding onto her the way I never had the guts to do in real life.
We're a motley little crew of personality disorders and self-destructive coping mechanisms. Can't really blame her for telling us to fuck off, I guess.
Her door's closed. I knock this time, because unlike Kade, I actually remember what manners are.
"Ellie? You decent?" I call.
No answer.
I exchange a look with Cyrus and see my own concern reflected in his expression. It's buried, but it's there. "I'm coming in."
I push the door open to reveal her sitting hunched in the window seat, backlit by the setting sun that turns her pink streaks into fire. She's changed into soft clothes. Gray sweatpants—mysweatpants, I notice with no small amount of possessive glee—and a tank top that shows the delicate curve of her neck where the collar sits like it was made for her.
Which it was.
But it's her face that guts me. Blank. Completely fucking blank, like someone reached inside and scooped out everything that made herher.
"Hey." I keep my voice as gentle as I can, moving into the room slowly. "You okay?"
She turns to look at me, or maybe past me. "Fine," she says, but the word has no life in it.
"Liar." I move closer, and Cyrus follows, closing the door behind us. "You're not fine. You just watched someone die."
"I watched Kade protecting his reputation. Technically, I didn't see the killing part."
"Ellie—"
"I'm fine," she repeats, turning back to the window. "You can go. I'm sure you have better things to do than babysit me."
I literally havenopriorities or obligations in life I wouldn't immediately discard just because she wanted to spit on me. But I decide not to volunteer that information.
"We're not leaving you alone," I say firmly. I don't give a shit what Cyrus says, he's fucking wrong. We've all been dealing with shit alone for the last four years, and where has that gotten us?
Fucking nowhere.
"Why not?" She doesn't look at us. "I'm property now, remember? Just another asset to manage."
The bitterness in her voice is a knife between my ribs. But I deserve it. We all do.
"Okay. New plan." I move to the bed, patting the space beside me. "Come sit. We're going to talk."
"I don't want to talk."
"Too bad. Sit."
She turns, and I see the flash of defiance in her eyes. There it is. There's my girl. "You can't order me around. Only Kade can do that."
"Actually," Cyrus says, "the contract states all four of us have equal authority over you. Kade just likes to pretend he's in charge."
"He shot a man in the face."
"Yeah, Kade's dramatic like that." I pat the bed again. "Sit, Ellie. Please."
The 'please' does it.
She moves toward the bed like her legs are made of lead, sinking onto the mattress beside me. Up close, I can see the exhaustion around her eyes, the way her hands shake slightly before she folds them in her lap.
