I had to hold myself back from running to my car, my thoughts still solely on Elio and if he was doing alright. The moment I sat in the driver’s seat, the music that’d been running in my ears all day suddenly stopped.
Ended. Just like that. No warning, no nothing. Suddenly, everything was at max volume. The voicesovertook everything else, much louder than the world around me. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, nearly dropping it a few times with the panic building in my veins. I fucking hated it. Everything felt too slippery in my palms, and tiny pricks of electricity kept poking every inch of my skin and I just wanted it all to stop.
Fucking stop.
Fucking… my phone was dead. Of course it was.
I panted for breath, ignoring everything my therapist ever told me in the past. Like it wasn’t a part of me, I watched my hand rise, only to slam down onto the steering wheel. “Stop! Just stop! Just fucking shut the fuck up!”
The material groaned under my grip, trying to bend to my strength. It wasn’t enough to feel the burn on my palms; I wanted to feel it everywhere else, too. Drown out the ghosts haunting my every fucking waking moment.
My phone tumbled into the passenger seat, along with my earbuds’ charging case. With how quickly I pulled out of the parking lot, I was surprised my tires didn’t screech. I hardly paid attention on the drive home. All I could think about was Elio’s silence.
I didn’t waste a single moment once I parked, grabbed my shit, and ran to the front door, too worried to think about slowing down. My hands shook as I unlocked the door, pushing against it too early by accident. Round two went easier, as I remembered to turn the goddamn knob before trying again. This time, I actually made it, and dropped everything on the floor of the hallway before taking off running.
Something… strong hit me right as I entered the living room. I sniffed the air, confused. And where the fuck was Elio? “Hello?” I stepped further into the apartment.
No answer. I slowly untied my apron, letting it fall as I swept my gaze over the living room and kitchen. Theblanket Elio had been using was folded neatly on the couch, set perfectly on the cushion. My bookshelf was pristine. Like, rearranged alphabetically and so clean it was almost sparkling. The top of the TV was clear of any dust. The floors looked shiny.
The smell was stronger toward the kitchen. I walked to the counter, turning the corner, and finally saw him. Elio was on his knees, his body fully bent over, his forehead resting on the squeaky-clean floor.
Sobbing.
Chapter Fourteen
It hurts.Oh, god, it hurts.
My wings ached. Every feather, starting from the quill, burned to stretch and fly. Fly above everything and everyone I knew. Fly until I dropped, deep into murky waters glistening with moonlight. Only the wind and the water could snuff the fire out. I knew this, yet I could do nothing about it.
And that right there fucking broke me. An angel stuck without flight, a bird too injured to flap its wings. A blue jay so beautiful, so broken, its wings shredded into nothing but pieces of mutilated, blank canvas.
Pine-Sol and suds kissed my bare knees, soaking me from the outside in. My nose was pressed into the mixture, my mouth only inches away from drowning in it. Everything hurt so bad, I wondered if I was actually dead. Maybe I was in purgatory—doomed to a life of fucking Pine-Soland scrubbing. I was stuck, a worthless, lifeless robot working on autopilot. A list of tasks, written by evil, had run through my programming until I malfunctioned.
Until I broke.
I couldn’t stand sitting around doing nothing when all I’d ever known was serving. Cleaning, cooking, listening, and obeying. Fuckingobeyingno matter the cost. No matter how much I suffered at the hand that fed me. I was a sheep, none the wiser to the claws that wanted to scratch me. Jude had conditioned me, mind, body, and soul.
Waiting for Crescent to get home, staring at the unfamiliar walls surrounding me, was driving me fucking crazy. I started organizing. Just a little bit. An out-of-place piece here, a swipe of dust there, and suddenly a pit had opened deep in my gut, and if I didn’t get everything perfectly arranged, I’d be in trouble.
It was the same every time. A tingling, swirling feeling started in my lower intestines, turning into a numb haze that spread over my skin, coating my entire body.
My fingers went cold, along with my toes. My arms felt heavy, as if they weren’t a part of me. I’d slowly inch away from my body and watch from above. Despite the pain in my knees or the stabbing in my lower back, I’d scrub and scrub until every speck was gone.
Jude always kept the house warm. Swelteringly so. I’d complained once, and he simply turned it up higher. When I mentioned it again, he told me it’d always been that way. That I was just imagining shit. Maybe I had been. I didn’t know. I didn’t trust myself, but I didn’t trust him either.
Sweat gathered at the bridge of my nose, falling to the tip. I panted into the cleaning liquid below me, watching waves catch and swirl from my breath. A tiny drop of sweat fell into it, splashing enough to make it shimmer and gleam.
Gripping the washcloth, I swiped it across the floor,scrubbing with intent. Jude could smell my fear—there was no doubt in my mind he could smell my sweat too.
Leave no trace. Leave no evidence that our house used to be a home or that I existed in its confines. Keep it a prison, or I’d start to get ideas.
Scrub.
Scrub.
Scrub.
Keep it clean, or the dirt would infect me. Make it presentable, or people could tell. No one ever crossed the threshold of my despair, but just in case. Just in case.Just in case.
