Once the moment settles, I flutter my hands, needing them close. I need them all, and somehow, they understand. I close my eyes, too tired to keep them open, but safe. So safe.
RJ pulls me onto the chair, someone else leaving and coming back with a damp washcloth, cleaning me up. Muttered conversation happens behind me, and not too long later, I’m laid out in the middle of a clean bed. Bodies surround me, holding me close, and despite the hour, sleep claims me. Dreamless. Warm.
Safe.
Chapter 13
Trips
Midday orgies should be banned. I just wanted a damn sandwich, but the sounds echoing down the hallway ruined my appetite.
Either that or my guilt did.
The movie paused in the living room tells me a little more about what they’ve been up to. But they obviously abandoned it for a better activity.
Lucky bastards.
I slump back upstairs, at a loss for what to do. How the fuck can I fix this?
I can’t. I know that. And it’s fucking me up inside. Outside too, probably.
She almost died.
And my dad has his claws in her. In us all.
My face aches from where RJ decked me. Jansen didn’t talk to me the entire run yesterday. I can’t close my right fist, the swelling not helped by the exercise, and I know I broke something, the ache too familiar.
Walker will probably never talk to me again.
And Clara.
I can’t even look at her without seeing her blue in my arms. Her pulse nothing but a flutter at her throat. Unresponsive.
Almost gone.
And even then, I made the wrong choice.
My goddamn fear of my father endangering her further.
She almost died.
And I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t keep her safe. I did the exact opposite.
Always such a fucking failure.
The ring box is still on the coffee table, none of us willing to touch it. Poison. It’s all poison.
It’s all my goddamn poison.
Staring at my heavy bag in the corner of my room, all I want is to lose myself in mindless movement, but my swollen hands tell me how stupid that’d be. I couldn’t even hold on to my damn breakfast without a tray and a balancing act.
Stupid. Nothing but a pair of fists, and even those are useless right now.
I need to go to the doctor. I’ll probably have to have the bone set based on the way it burns beneath my skin. But Clara’s demanded we go two by two, like little toy elephants onto Noah’s Ark, and the only thing I have going for me right now is my promise that I’ll follow her damn rules.
I need to find another way to deal.
To not lose myself.
