For a home I hadn’t lived in for very long, it felt weird to see it empty. It felt how I thought it would when we went to the Millers’ house. Empty, desolate, and void of anyevidence that I’d ever been there. So many memories had seeped into the floors, while others still drifted through the air. I could hear my own sobs from when I first came home with Crescent. I’d sobbed beneath the photos that were now packed away in boxes, writhing on the couch.
Wafting from the kitchen, I could smell the faint scent of Pine-Sol. From the bedroom, I could hear laughter and recall nights curled up against Crescent’s chest. I knew that underneath the new sheets we’d put on the bed were green stains that had leaked into the mattress.
The ghosts that used to scare me were still here, but they were kinder. Instead of feeling dread or fear, I felt light and welcomed. What I couldn’t remember was the day Crescent’s apartment had becomehomein my mind. At some point, it had become automatic without me even knowing. It was no longer me staying with him; it was me living with him. In his bed. In his presence. In his heart, and he was in mine, too. I had thought homes were meant to be a prison—somewhere I was bound to, with the people who lived there with me. The Millers’ house was the only exception to this. Their house had never felt like a cage, but a welcoming breeze after sitting in the hot sun all day.
Relief.
This apartment wasalsomy relief. Cramped, sure. But it was where I’d started healing, and where I’d found the person I’d always been meant to spend the rest of my life with. For the second time.
Patting the box, I finally stood. My limbs were jelly, my legs not wanting to cooperate fully. Every muscle ached from the constant bending and squatting I’d been doing over the last few weeks.
Looking at the time, I decided to take a nap while I waited for Crescent to get off work and Moon to show upsoon after. There was only about an hour and a half left before then.
Pulling the blanket back onto the bed, I smiled at the faint forest-green stain showing through the cream-colored sheets. I plopped onto it, inhaling the pillow beside mine. Crescent’s side smelled like vanilla, blueberries, and honey buns. He said I’d get sick of it after a few years, but I begged to differ.
My easel was still in front of the bed, though all the paintings had been packed away, making the bedroom feel like a chamber of secrets. Secrets from the outside world, not from me.
Our new house would be full of paintings and joy, and I hoped to be able to sell some of them if anyone was interested. With a big new expense added to our monthly bills, I knew I’d need to start looking into a job or selling on the side. Painting as a job sounded perfect to me.
My eyes started to droop with exhaustion. I started to drift off, thinking of our journey ahead. A long drive, a lot of lifting, and a whole new life together. I dreamt of a gorgeous field, full of daisies and tall, green grass just the right height. The clouds passed us by from above, giving Crescent and me plenty of entertainment trying to figure out what shapes we were seeing in them. It reminded me of old times from when we were kids and teenagers, just passing time until the next thing we’d undoubtedly do together. We were inseparable growing up, and I knew we’d be inseparable from now on, too.
Something woke me up. My brain came online faster than my eyes or ears. I could hear something, but I couldn’t make out what exactly it was. Thumping? Rustling? Had Crescent gotten home early, or had I been asleep a lot longer than I thought?
Footsteps pounded closer to the bedroom door just asmy body started to relax again, realizing it was probably the latter. I must’ve been a lot more tired than I thought. I thought I’d sleep for thirty minutes, or even an hour at most.
The door creaked open, making me smile a bit. The footsteps got closer, though Crescent was being quiet. If he wanted to be sweet and let me sleep in some more, I wasn’t going to refuse.
I was on my side, not yet turned over. The fingers that wrapped around my wrist weren’t Crescent’s.
As my eyes shot open, I started to scream, only to be silenced immediately. Another pair of hands grabbed my ankles, holding them together as I writhed in the bed, flailing my limbs as hard as I could. A fist struck my face, my nose crunching with the impact.
Pain. So much fucking pain I was no longer used to. I was used to gentle hands, soft skin, and touches laced with pure, unconditional love.
These were hands of malice and hatred. They were rough and scarred, and the claws on the fingertips scratched me as they held me back. No. No.No.
“No!” I screamed, finally opening my eyes as the pain morphed into a numb, hot feeling all across my face. Right there, in front of my eyes, was Jude.
The blue eyes I’d fallen in love with and the blond hair he’d always styled. Red, evil intent shadowed just beneath the irises, darkening the blue into a cold shade of black. Jude, the deceiver. And then, at my feet, holding my ankles together, was Sarah.
She looked at me with a scowl on her face, barking words at me as if she’d never shown me kindness before. “Stop fucking squirming! Holy shit, you’re heavy.”
I looked up at her, pleading with her, begging for her to show me the same person from the night she’d called Crescent for me. “Sarah? Sarah, wait. What are you doing?”
“Ugh, stop fucking yapping.” Her lips turned down in a scowl, her eyes narrowed and dark. Almost the same shade as Jude’s.
“Oh my god, shut up! Both of you!” Jude yelled so loud and so close to my face, I could feel his spit across my cheeks.
I didn’t stop squirming. I jerked and kicked my legs, thrashed my arms from side to side, and tried to lock my muscles up tight to give myself more strength. “Let me go! You can’t do this anymore!”Please, someone, hear me. Someone help me.“Fuck you!”
They pulled me off the bed sideways, dragging me along with them through the bedroom. When I realized I couldn’t fight my way through, I let everything go limp. Dead weight was heavier, or something like that, right?
Crescent, please.
My back almost scraped the floor with how they were carrying me. My shirt rose above my stomach, exposing parts of me to Jude that he hadn’t seen since I left. Going dead weight wasn’t helping. They weren’t stopping. I couldn’t gain my balance or any sort of leverage to get out of their hold.
Both of them were bickering back and forth to each other, pausing in the hallway. “He’s heavy, okay?” Sarah complained.
“Don’t you think I know that? Just keep going! I have some rope by the bookshelf.”
