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“What I didn’t tell you was what happened after.”
Carnage sets his phone down and settles back into the chair, giving me his full attention without reaching for me or pushing me to keep going, so I do.
“I hit the water and swam.”
His brow pulls tight, concern cutting through some of the anger still sitting in his face.
“I had no plan. I was sixteen, bleeding down the front of my clothes, and I just knew I had to put as much distance between them and me as I could.” I rub my thumb over the rough edge of the towel. “I swam until my arms stopped working properly. Found a fishing trawler and climbed aboard without anyone seeing me.”
His eyes flick to the scar on my throat before coming back to mine.
“Two days in the bilge,” I say, the memory making my stomach turn even now. “No food. Barely any water. Every time someone walked overhead, I thought that was it. I thought they’d found me.”
Carnage’s hand moves across the space between us and stops beside mine, his palm open, close enough that all I have to do is reach for him.
He leaves that part up to me.
My chest squeezes as I look at his hand, and after a second, I slide mine into it. His fingers close around mine, warm and solid.
“That was twelve years ago.” I watch his thumb move slowly across my knuckles. “I’ve been running ever since.”
He reaches for his phone with his free hand and types without letting me go.
Twelve years is a long time.
“Pretty pathetic when you say it like that.”
His stare snaps straight to mine, sharp enough that I already know he doesn’t appreciate that answer.
“Fine. Not pathetic.”
He types again and practically shoves the phone at me.
NOT EVEN FUCKING CLOSE!
A laugh catches me completely off guard, small and watery around the edges, but real enough that some of the pressure in my chest eases. “You’re very opinionated for someone who can’t talk.”
The look he gives me says plenty before his thumbs start moving again. “Don’t hurt yourself,” I mock.
He glares at me and turns the phone around.
Why keep running?
Whatever smile was left on my face disappears as I stare at the question.
I should’ve known he’d get there eventually.
“Because they keep finding me.” His fingers tighten around mine, but he doesn’t interrupt. “Every time I find somewhere I like, I start getting comfortable. I learn people’s names. Find a coffee place that knows my order. Maybe buy something stupid for wherever I’m living because some tiny part of me starts thinking I might actually be there long enough to enjoy it…”
Carnage watches me closely, his thumb still moving over the side of my hand.
“Then I see one of them. Sometimes it’s someone I recognize. Sometimes it’s just the same signs I learned to look for years ago.” I take a breath that doesn’t quite make it all the way down. “Either way, I know what comes next.” He waits, giving me the space to say the part I hate most. “So I pack whatever fits in a bag and leave.”
Carnage shakes his head immediately.
“What?”
He lets go of me just long enough to grab the phone.
