She set her jaw. “You know what I mean.”
I did. Fuck, I did.
But I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell her hate was the only rope I had, and if I let go, I’d drown. So I spit it out.
“It’s easier than listening to you talk.”
She flinched, just a flicker. But she didn’t look away.
I kept going, because I didn’t know how to stop.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The only sound was the drip—drip—drip—and her breathing, fast and tight.
But in my head, everything screamed.
Easier than wanting you and remembering I used to want you before my father made me believe wanting was weakness. Easier than admitting I’m protective of you and I don’t know why. Easier than looking at you now and seeing what I did to you. What I could do if I let myself care.
The dark got thicker. Amelia pulled her knees up, chin locked between them, and I watched her, couldn’t not watch. Every time her breath skipped, my heart went with it. Every time she shut her eyes, I wanted to make sure she opened them again.
The world was a tunnel, narrowing down to us, the glass, and the sound of water seeping from pipe or ceiling. For a while, nothing moved.
I stayed awake.
Sleep was ambush, sleep was death. I needed to be ready, in case psycho decided to come back. I needed to be awake for her.
If she slept, she didn’t have to see me. If she slept, she was safer.
I let my own eyes close, but only for a second at a time. When I opened them, I scanned for her, make sure she was where I left her, make sure she wasbreathing still.
I didn’t need to like her. Didn’t need her to forgive me. All I needed was to know she’d wake up in the morning, shake out her hair, glare at me, and keep fighting.
Maybe that was the sickness. Maybe that was my cage.
She slipped under, at last, sleep dragging her down. She looked breakable, glass doll on the other side of the wall.
I wanted to reach through. I wanted to smash my fist through the barrier and pull her in.
But all I did was sit. And watch. And promise myself: no matter what, she’d see daylight again. The water dripped. The dark pressed in. And I stayed awake. Just to keep her safe.
Hating her had always been easy. This was the hard part.
THE PRESENT
AMELIA
Caiden was supposed to be my enemy, but in here, he felt like my lifeline.
I was sure we would both die, but at least we’d do it as one creature, not two halves left to rot. Instead I pressed my palm to the glass and mouthed his name.
His eyes flickered, followed my hand, the motion slow and underwater. He didn’t speak. I could tell his mouth was too dry.
We spent hours like that. Our bodies on either side of the sweating sheet, tracing each other’s outlines, inventing a language of gestures and sighs.
It was the closest I’d ever been to him, and the farthest.
I thought about other times we were close. Not like this, but back in school days. Times when he would shove me in the hallway, or watch me from the distance, a violent hunger whirling in his eyes.
One time he’d grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me into the locker room, slammed me against the cold blue metal and hissed in my ear that I was “already a ghost, just didn’t know it yet.”
