“Not exactly.” He stared, waiting for me to continue. “I wasn’t put into WITSEC for another year and a half. Technically the gang was the one who faked my death.”
He blinked, probably even more confused.
“Why?”
I dug my nails into my scabs again.
“For a job. I didn’t know, I swear,” I implored, “I didn’t know that they were going to fake my death until that night. I thought I’d get a chance to give you some sort of explanation, not…suicide.”
He stared at me for a moment before finally nodding.
“Why didn’t you come to me for help? Or move in with Sebastian when he suspected something was wrong? We could have helped you before they…before you disappeared.”
Enoch frowned. He was clearly hurt that I had chosen not to confide in him. My chest constricted and I struggled to get oxygen into my lungs.
“I had my reasons for keeping you in the dark. One of which was to keep you all safe.”
He pursed his lips. “Any chance you’re gonna elaborate on those other reasons?”
“Probably not.”
He nodded, not pressing the matter. I studied the disappointment in his eyes. Disappointment in me.He thinks I made the wrong decision. That if I had just told him the truth none of this would have happened.
And fuck, did my mind not imagine that future too. The one where I had never joined the gang. The one where I didn’t lose the good parts of myself.
But that reality was never an option. Not when I had already been corrupted by violence. Not when I let myself be blinded by revenge, greedy for justice and a redemption I thought I could earn.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke again.
“We’re the only ones to know you’re alive? I mean, from those who knew you before.”
“Yeah.”
“So…why did you get involved with this gang? I’m not trying to judge you here. I just...I’m trying to understand is all. Was it because you needed money? Or something to do with your dad and his addiction?”
The weight on my chest intensified and I struggled to let the words free from my throat.
“I think you’ve asked your three questions,” I finally managed to say. I was sweating and the panic inside me was swirling to a dangerous height. “Can I check out that bathroom you mentioned?”
My stomach churned and I quickly stood.
He shook out of his stupor and stood as well. “Of course. I’m sorry. That was way more than three questions. The open door in the hallway, straight ahead.”
I didn’t hesitate as I crossed the room and found the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, the breath in my lungs seemed to feel heavier and heavier. I turned on the cold faucet, quick to cup my hands beneath the flowing icy water and splash my face with it.
My heart was pounding fiercely as the panic set in and my whole body shook. I sucked in an unsteady breath, holding it and releasing it slowly.
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.
My eyes pricked with tears, and I clenched my jaw. With shaky hands, I ripped off my sweatshirt and unbuttoned my jeans to uncover the freshest cut on my hip, peeling back the bloody Band-Aid.
Dread flooded my nervous system like a drug I just injected into my veins. The overwhelming and all-consuming sense that something terrible was going to happen had me collapsing to the floor. I pressed my head between my knees and silently screamed.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
What if they find me?
I dug my nails into the fresh cut on my hip and tried to narrow my focus on the stinging sensation.
