Page 99 of Hide Little Traitor

By the time it came off after six weeks, I swore I would never do anything to land myself in one again, but I guess back then I didn’t know I would have to do something so drastic just to survive.

I swipe away a stray tear that falls against my cheek just as Kingston steps into the doorway with a tray of food, the scent making my stomach growl of its own accord.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he crosses the room and lays it over my lap.

I take in the contents of the tray, not bothering to remind him how many times I told him I wasn’t hungry.

“The doctor said you need to eat something before you can take any of your meds, and it’s not good for the baby for you to starve yourself.”

I drag my attention off the rich tomato soup and plain buttered toast for long enough to glance at him, my chest tightening at the guilt that stares back at me.

Kingston doesn’t have any reason to feel guilty. He wasn’t there. He didn’t kill my parents. He didn’t rape my mother while making Dad and me watch. None of this is his fault, but I don’t bother telling him that, because I feel it too.

The survivor’s guilt has already started to eat away at me. Why would I get to survive while they died? How is that fair?

I look back down at the food and nod, forcing my thoughts away from the spiral I keep finding myself falling into.

I’ve never felt quite so at odds with my body and mind.

Dipping the spoon into the soup, I stir the red liquid for a handful of seconds, buying myself an extra moment before I force my stomach to accept food despite the nausea that rolls over me in waves.

The doctor said it could be morning sickness or a result of all the trauma I’ve been through the last few days, or any number of other things that come with being starved and held captive for an extended period of time.

Lifting the spoon from the bowl, my hand trembles violently, forcing me to lower it again. The sheets may be black, but tomato soup is going to be hell to get out.

A large hand engulfs mine, slipping the spoon from between my fingers and gathering a small amount of soup. “Let me do it for you, Mama,” Kingston murmurs.

“I can do it,” I argue weakly.

“But you don’t have to. Let me hold some of the weight for a little while. Let me take care of you.”

The tears I’ve been trying to keep at bay the last few hours gather at the corners of my eyes, and I’m powerless to stop them from falling.

“I don’t know if I can do this, King. I don’t know if I can live without everything I’ve ever loved.”

I never truly understood how a heart could break. It’s an organ that keeps your blood pumping, that keeps your life force moving through your body. How could it possibly break?

But I get it now. Because the never-ending pressure in my chest is relentless. It hurts so fucking badly I can barely drag in a breath around the agony, and somehow I’m supposed to live like this? I’m supposed to get up every day and live a whole life without the man who taught me how to ride a bike? I’m meant to raise a baby without the woman who showed me what it means to be a mother? I have to get up every day with the knowledge that the man I love more than anything else in the world doesn’t know there’s a child that’s half him and half me running around?

It feels impossible.

Kingston cups my cheek in his free hand, and I can’t help but lean into his warmth. “Of course you can, Chloe. You know why?”

I shake my head, biting down on the inside of my cheek to keep a fresh onslaught of tears at bay.

“Because they would want you to live a full life. All your mom and dad ever wanted for you was happiness, and they taught you how to be strong. They taught you to stand on your own two feet and to love despite the ugly world you grew up in. I know it hurts right now, and I’m not going to lie to you and say it’s not going to hurt forever, but that pain will ease eventually, and it will get easier to breathe.”

“You can’t know that,” I choke out.

“But I do, Mama.” His dark eyes hold mine, showing me the pain he usually hides from the world. “It gets easier. I promise.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat.

“I need to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth. Can you do that for me, Chloe?” He waits for my nod before continuing. “Do you want me to call Ronan and let him know you’re okay? I don’t have to tell him where you are or what happened. I don’t even have to tell him who I am. But would it make you feel better if he knew you didn’t just disappear?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to risk it if Salvatore has already gotten into his head. It’s better that they all think I’m dead.”

For a second I think he’s going to argue, but instead he drops his hand from my cheek and gathers a mouthful of soup on the spoon. “You let me know if you change your mind, okay?”