If any of them were in that basement nine years ago. If any of them touched her. If any of them are the reason she still flinches when men get too close.
"No. I don't know." They’re not. I brutally killed all the people there apart from the main fucking perpetrator and I still regret not having done it.
She nods and wraps her arms around herself. "Okay."
Silence stretches between us. Heavy with everything we're not saying, thick with all the questions she's not asking and all the answers I'm not giving.
She's not looking at me anymore, just staring at the counter with her jaw tight and her hands gripping her elbows too hard, and I can see her building those walls back up brick by brick.
"Isabella—"
"Look. Off topic but if we're staying here for days, we need to at least talk normally."
"We are talking normally."
"No." She looks up and there's fire in her eyes now. "We're being weird. Awkward. Like we're strangers. And I can't—" She stops, takes a breath. "I can't do this for days. It's going to drive me insane."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Act normal. Have a conversation. Stop being so—" She gestures at me, frustrated. "So cold and distant and whatever this is."
If she only knew how much effort it takes to stand three feet away from her, how hard I'm fighting not to close the distance and put my hands on her, how every second in this kitchen is a test of my self-control.
"I'm just doing my job."
"Your job is to keep me safe. Not to treat me like I'm contagious."
"I'm not?—"
"You are." Her voice cracks. Just slightly, just enough that I hear it and it cuts right through me. "You're acting like you can barely stand to be in the same room as me. Like I'm—I don't know. Repulsive or something."
What?!
"That's not?—"
"Then what is it?" She steps closer and I can smell my soap on her skin, the pulse racing in her throat. "Because I can handle a lot of things, Enzo. I can handle being hunted. Being scared. Being stuck in the middle of nowhere. But I can't handle you looking at me like that. With disgust."
"You think that's what this is?"
"What else am I supposed to think?"
"That I'm trying to keep my distance because if I don't, I'm going to do something we'll both regret." The words come out hard and harsh and I watch them land, too late to take them back. Watch her eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat.
"W-What?"
Fuck. I shouldn't have said that.
"You think I find you repulsive?"
"I—"
"You think I can barely stand to be near you?"
"You act like?—"
"The last thing I feel when I look at you is repulsed." The words come out rough and raw like they're being rippedfrom somewhere deep. "The absolute last fucking thing. You understand?"
Her breath catches and I watch her process this, watch her trying to figure out what I'm saying, what I'm not saying.
