I swore I heard her gasp. It was quiet, but I heard it.
“Marcus?”
Hearing my name almost made me tear up, but I held it in—just enough to letgo of the breath I’d been holding and whisper, “I need you.”
chapter thirty six
don't fear the valleys
It’s not Jamie.
It’s. Not. Jamie.
I’d been repeating those three words in my head for the past month, and I still refused to believe them.
Partly because I was still hoping it was him. There was a safety in knowing who was after me. Almost like, if something were to happen, I’d at least be a little prepared for what I was facing. And with that, and the tailored self-defence routine I’d nailed, thanks to Marcus, in case anything were to happen, I could leave the house safe in the knowledge that I was as prepared as I could be.
But it wasn't him, and I wasn't prepared.
The only thing I was now, was scared.
Shocker.
After that night when Marcus took care of me, I stayed at his house for the next week. And he let me. He brought me food and handed over all his streaming devices and let me sit with the realisation that we’d been wrong this whole time. Hehad offered to go get my paints and let me steal some of his canvases, but I knew I wouldn’t need them.
I felt exactly how I did in the days after Jamie attacked me. Hollow. Drained. Void of every version of myself. Like I was stuck in this emotionless purgatory, waiting for the moment when I felt something. Anything other than numb.
I was in my bed now. Had been ever since leaving next door. I’d barely left my room, but I suppose I didn’t need to when I had the girls coming to my room with food and tea and fresh tissues. So, to put it bluntly, I was back at square one in every way imaginable. But the only part I hated was that the Nouvelle Gala was coming up quick, and I’d barely started on one of the three pieces I needed to showcase.
And it wasn’t like I hadn’t been trying. Don’t be shaking your head at me and telling me to just get on with it, because I’ve tried. I really have. Take this morning, for example. I woke up at five am, and instead of turning over and falling back asleep, I walked over to my canvas, the one I’d half-finished before Marcus… you know what he did. I shut out everything, ignored every natural instinct to not grab my paints and grabbed them. I closed my eyes and lifted my brush and… well, if I’d painted something, I would have opened with that.
I just couldn’t.
So now I was back in bed, sipping Earl Grey, listening to the forever falling rain on the window as my mind circled back to the same conclusion.
It’s not Jamie.
His name reminded me that Marcus told me he was meeting with him today, actually. He texted me, like he does every morning.
Today at 10:23pm
Marcus
You’ll be okay on your own today?
i'll be fine.
will you be okay today?
Course. I’m just talking with him.
i wouldn’t be mad if you hurt him, just a little.
If he’s innocent, you know I can’t do that.
and if he’s not?
Well, I’m not going to text it, am I?
