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you okay?

I can’t answer. Can’t think of what to say because, no, I’m not okay. I’m the fucking opposite of okay.

My phone buzzes again.

Cam seriously. text me back

I can’t right now. I place my phone screen down on the counter and walk to my bedroom. My sheets haven’t been washed since the last time Lucien was here. His smell is faint but unmistakable.

Oh Lucien.

I sink onto the edge of the mattress and stare at the wall.

My chest feels empty, pillaged. My soul was stolen from me, and I’m left holding the burden of the void. I’m not going to cry. There’s nothing left inside me anyway.

Time moves strangely.

I don’t sleep. I catalog every shadow that moves across the ceiling and every angle of light that casts through the window. Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Each one a small death.

My phone keeps buzzing. Liam.

dude, where are you?

are you okay?

i’m getting worried

call me

I don’t respond.

I just lie there, replaying everything in my head: Lucien’s mother screaming when she opened the door, his father’s voice over the phone, venomous. Every word designed for maximum cruelty. And Lucien’s face when he looked at me in the Buc-ee’s parking lot and said, ”Don’t you think we should take some time?”

How he said Thom. That name. He kept a secret for him.

I close my eyes and see Thom’s face. His sneer.

Lucien let him touch him. Let him teach him.

I roll over and press my face into the pillow. I won’t cry.

I’m still wearing the clothes from three nights ago.

There’s a knock at the door.

I ignore it, but the knocking continues, becoming incessant.

“Cam, I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door.”

Liam.

He’s not going to stop. Fine. I’ll answer.

I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the door. My legs feel weak, unsteady.

When I open the door, his hazel eyes go from annoyed to horrified in a second.

“Jesus Christ, Cam.”