“It’s okay, Blair. That’s all in the past. He can’t hurt you now,” the whispered words fall flat, because I’m still shivering, trembling, and in a desperate need to forget. His hands, his mouth, everything. I can feel it on my skin, I can feel him inside of me, and before I can even react, my body does.
I lean over the edge of the bed, vomiting straight onto the carpet. My stomach’s empty, since I skipped dinner, and the liquid on the floor is just water. I’m holding my hair back while all the content of my stomach falls out of my mouth onto the floor.
Once I’m done, I suck in a sharp intake of breath, and slowly make my way to the bathroom. My footing is wonky, and I have to hold onto the wall to get to the bathroom in one piece.
I never reached for the toothbrush as fast, making sure to brush the entirety of my mouth. I don’t know who the person staring at me through the mirror is. She’s no longer the little, scared girl who knows no value of herself.
I see someone stronger, someone who would’ve shielded her.
As soon as my teeth are brushed, I reach for the small packet I keep hidden in the bathroom’s vanity, hidden from view. I snort two lines, allowing the drugs to relax my mind, body and soul. The thoughts of Paul are still there, but the nightmare fades into the background.
“Fuck,” I breathe out.
Tonight’s dream was just as terrible as the memory of it. With Arlo away, I can’t sleep. It’s almost four in the morning, and I’ve woken up six times already. Each and every single time, the nightmare continues right where the previous left off, and it’s making me go insane.
They won’t stop until Paul is dead.
I’m snapped out of the train of thought when the front door opens. Quickly, I hide away any remaining heroin, hiding it back into the vanity, and walking out. My eyes widen when I spot Arlo in the doorway, my walking comes to a stop.
He’s wearing a black hoodie, with matching pants, and leather gloves. However, the outfit is soaked. He’s soaked head to toe. The blood drips down onto the wooden floor, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll stop anytime soon.
My eyes flick to his face just as he removes the hood, his eyes holding an emotion I’ve never seen before.
“Blair,” his voice is as soft as always. “I did something.”
Tonight isn’t the time to question anything. He lost his father, and he’s about to lose his mother. What he did was a necessity, and although I’m uncertain of the details, I can guess what it involves.
So, instead of saying anything, I take a couple of steps toward him, and pull him into a hug, allowing the blood to soak through my shirt.
Tonight, we’ll just hold each other.
ELEVEN
Sweat drips from my forehead, and my breathing is labored. Cove, on the other hand, doesn’t seem all that bothered. He has his boxing gloves on, and although it’s obvious this is a serious work out for him as well, his body doesn’t show it.
“How about you pause a moment and actually take a breath?”
“No,” my response is immediate. “There’s no time, Cove. I’ve gotten too lazy lately. So, hit me again.”
“No,” he scoffs. “I’ve been hitting you for the past three hours. You’re so distracted it’s crazy. You’ll get your teeth knocked out at this rate, Arlo. What’s up?”
I whip my head around. “What do you mean, ‘what’s up?’ My father is dead.”
“I know. And you’re not coping too well.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I roll my eyes. “On top of that, Dom is about to die, someone I have known since I was eighteen turned out to be a fucking traitor. How the hell do you think I feel?”
Cove tosses his boxing gloves aside, wiping his forehead with the towel. For a moment, I sit on the bench, inhaling deeply, trying to catch my breath. This entire week has been like an out of body experience. I can’t even cry.
All I’ve been doing is train, putting in all the hours I can, trying to figure out where Raven has gone, and absolutely nothing seems to be working out in my favor. Everyone I come into contact with since Hudson passed, gives me nothing but looks of pity, and that just makes me angrier with each passing glance.
“You still haven’t gone to identify his body, though.”
“I can’t,” I mutter. “That will only prove this entire thing is actually real. Besides, I want to do it with Aria. She’s not ready just yet. I’m waiting for her.”
My chest is aching. My head is throbbing, and my heart is shattered. This all feels like a fever dream, and I don’t think it has an end. It took me a lot of strength not to reach for a bottle, because I know Dad wouldn’t have wanted that.
The thought of him truly being gone, buried six feet under ground is making my head spin. And yet, I can’t stop thinking about him.
