Page 112 of The Addict

The sharp sound of the front door slamming shut made me jump, goosebumps prickling across my skin. I felt so bare and vulnerable, the once scalding water now cold and clammy, just like I was.

I was a sitting duck.

As I waited, I listened intently for the footsteps rising from the bottom of the staircase, making their way through the halls and toward my bathroom door. I sat completely still, desperately hoping it wasn’t who I thought it would be.

The door creaked open, and the heavy footsteps grew louder and closer. I held my breath, my heart racing in my chest.

“Noah?” Damian called softly from the other side, lightly tapping on the door. “Are you in here?”

I almost cried from relief, clutching my exposed and shivering form. “Yeah,” I answered quietly.

“Can I come in?”

My eyes shot to the bloody clothing on the floor, back to the sitting bloodbath that was engulfing me in the once white bowl.

“J-Just give me a minute,” I muttered, pressing the button to release the water and reaching for a towel that hung at the other side of the room. I stepped out, wiping my face to rid it of the caked on blood that hung to my cheeks. I threw the soiled clothes into the emptying tub, pulling the curtains back to cover the evidence. The wet, red droplets that stuck to my arms and legs were hastily wiped away, and the now stained towel was thrown into the pile behind the curtain. I snatched another fresh towel, wrapping it around my waist.

“Yeah, come in.” I called out, nearly tumbling to the floor from the pain. I held onto the side of the counter for support just as Damian was walking in.

“So, where have you been?” Damian spoke calmly, though it wasn’t hard for me to decipher the anger in his voice. I couldn’t blame him for being worried. If only he knew that the true danger had been waiting for my arrival home the entire time.

“Movies. With Alex and some other friends.” I was truthful. What was there to hide?

Except the fact that Daddy’s back to his old tricks.

Damian’s eyes fell to the toilet and widened imperceptibly. “Did you get sick?”

I cursed inwardly, knowing that I forgot something. I flushed the mess immediately, shrugging it off as nothing. “Just a little.”

“Do you need some medication? What’s wrong?” Damian stepped forward, looking more concerned than ever. He stopped abruptly, mid-stride.

“What happened to your eye?”

I sighed, feeling lightheaded. I didn’t want to make up stories. I just wanted to tell the truth—spill everything like I used to as a child and get it out in the open, hoping that someone could fix it. Or at least try to.

But the truth was, no one had ever really been able to help me. So, what was going to change this time around?

I was finally starting to give up all hope. After all, it was just my body.

“I was in a fight. At the movies.” It wasn’t all a total lie.

“With who?” Damian demanded, studying the gash.

“I don’t know who he was,” I breathed. The pain was starting to become too much. I really wanted to lay down. “Just some guy that smarted off to me and got punched. Then he hit me. Not a big deal.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “You can’t be going around, picking fights, not answering your cell phone, and leaving without telling anyone.”

I didn’t respond. All of these things, I knew.

“You were with Silas again,” Damian denounced.

“I know.” There was no use lying. The phone call had been all of the proof Damian needed. Silas told on us both with his smart-ass attitude.

“Why? What makes him so special?”

He’s my monster. All mine.

“Nothing.”