“I don’t want to leave you.”
His steel-coloured eyes find mine, and for a second, neither of us looks away. The pain between us—his and mine—ties us together tighter than any promise ever could.
“If he touches you, Shannen, I will kill him. I’ll murder him, and they’ll take me away, and I won’t ever see you again.”
“Then I’ll do it,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
He shakes his head, horrified. “No. Not you. Not ever. One day I’ll do it, maybe. But not today.”
We were barely fifteen.
A few days later, I was back in that house with his dad’s gun cold and heavy in my palm. My finger trembled on the trigger, ready to blow that bastard’s brains out and make him pay for every mark he put on Phoenix’s body.
I shove the memory away, burying it deep before it pulls me under. But another one rises to take its place, one that drags me straight back to less than an hour ago.
“You want to watch me scrub you off my skin like you’re nothing more than a stain?”
The way his face fell in that moment—Jesus, it nearly broke me.
I’m standing under the shower now, dragging my nails over my skin as the scalding water beats down. Each rivulet burns as it slides off me, carrying pieces of him I won’t ever fully wash away.
For years, he kept himself hidden from me, robbed me of the chance to decide what I wanted, and left me carrying pain I might’ve been able to let go of a long time ago if I’d only known he was still there.
Maybe I could've found closure.
Maybe we both could've found some kind of peace.
But no, he took that choice away from me and fed his own addiction instead, touching me while I slept and watching me while I lived, all while letting me exist under the illusion that I was free.
What about what I wanted?
Fuck if I even know what that is anymore.
I left under a new name, built a life from nothing, and locked every twisted Phoenix Cassidy feeling in a box I only opened once a year. Even then, even in those rare, secret moments when I’d pour my heart into letters I thought no one would read, I wasn’t alone. He knows everything.Every breakdown, every tear, and every truth I scribbled onto paper, thinking it was safe.
For ten years, he’s had access to every inch of me, and I hate it.
I work the shampoo into my hair, my nails scraping against my scalp as the sweet scent of cherry and vanilla fills the shower. For what they charge to stay here, it should smell this good. And right now, I’ll take anything that makes me believe I can wash him off my skin.
But his scent lingers, stubborn and intoxicating—addicting.
I tell myself I hate it and want it gone, that every trace of him needs to be washed down the drain and disappear.Yet here I am, breathing deeper like he’s oxygen instead of poison and chasing what’s left of him.
Nothing I said tonight will stop Phoenix from following me or stalking me the way he has for a decade. He won’t just disappear because I told him to. But for my sanity, I have to cut him out of my life and out of the toxic spiral I fall into every time his name crosses my mind. I need a clean slate, and even though he'll probably never allow it, even though he'll fight me every step of the way, I'm going to make it happen. I have to.
When I step out of the shower, I wrap myself in a towel. Water drips from my hair and trails down my skin as I pad into the bedroom, leaving damp footprints on the carpet. I reach for my phone, just to have something in my hands, something to keep my mind off him.
Six hours until my flight.
The good thing is I booked it in advance.
The bad thing is that it doesn’t leave me enough time to sleep.
There’s nothing like a near-death sprint through the airport to kick off the morning. I passed out after packing and nearly missed my flight, but at least I’m comfortable now—sweatpants, messy bun, no bra. A complete one-eighty from last night’s outfit, and god, I feel good.
I board the plane, thankful that each step takes me closer to New York and further away fromhim. The flight attendant shows me to my seat, and I sink down, letting my eyes fall shut as I pull in a long breath, exhaling slowly, like I can purge every ounce of Phoenix Cassidy out of me.
Seconds, that’s all the peace I get. My eyes are closed, but I can hear first class filling up around me, and that’s when I feel it—a breath ghosting across my hairline.
