Chapter 26 #2
I don’t know what transpired last night between my mind, heart, and resolve.
I want to believe there was something real between us, something pure in a place like this, that's filled with lies and deceptions. It was lust at first sight. The way he touched me, careful and uncertain, like he didn’t trust himself.
How his eyes looked when he said my name, as he brought me so much pleasure.
Then morning came, and the walls of reality caved in, and I panicked and ran, like the frightened teenage girl who still hides deep inside of me.
I can’t stop replaying the way he looked as I left, hurt and confused, like I’d just ripped something out of him. Fuck, I'm a mess.
I step cautiously into the empty kitchen, and see a piece of pink paper with yellow ducks, gracing the top of the granite island. The writing is neat and flowy, and it forces the first smile in hours to cross my lips.
I walk away after checking what Joffrey has left me to eat, and sink onto the deep, indigo velvet couch in the sitting room.
The air feels heavy, as I try to release the stress I'm holding within my body.
The scent of lilies fills my nose from the glass vase on the round, wood coffee table.
Their pretty yellow and orange petals are already wilting, as if even they're tainted by the disquiet in this place.
Outside, the wind rattles the windows, demanding entry, and warning of the storm yet to come.
The chandelier trembles overhead, scattering light across the walls in fractured patterns, and distracting me from my despondent thoughts.
I catch a reflection of movement in the corner of my eye, and I turn, seeking it out as my heart slams in my chest, but there’s no one there. Just the long hallway stretching toward the staircase, empty and silent. “Get it together, nothing is there,” I whisper, but it doesn't reassure me.
I no longer feel comfortable in the wide open space.
The thought keeps scratching at my mind that I can't defend myself here.
I wander back into the kitchen, and once again pilfer Joffrey's large kitchen knife, before making my way back to my room with irritation that I’ve lost my bag, thanks to Damon.
Once inside, I lock all the doors and check the windows, using my body to push my dresser against the door again, as an extra precaution. Fuck you, Cross.
A nasty scent catches my nose, and I quickly search for where it's coming from, my eyes sliding over my belongings, and cataloging whether they've been messed with again.
Was Cross once again in my room, with his unhinged friends, earlier today while I was at school?
I'll break his pretty-boy nose if he's touched my stuff.
I follow the scent to the ensuite bathroom, and what greets me in the toilet has me gagging, and my eyes watering.
Motherfuckers. I use the toe of my sneaker to push down the lid and flush the toilet.
Who the fuck leaves a giant shit in the toilet like that?
Fucking heathens. I really have to get out of here.
Being in this house, in this town, is starting to do a number on my sanity.
I grab a bottle of water from my mini fridge and guzzle it down, as I think about my next move.
I came to Soule for one reason: to take Rawdon down, and serve him the punishment he's so far managed to escape, for what he did to Cheyanne and me.
The lines keep blurring since I arrived here, intertwined with anger, fear, purpose, and obsession.
Something is growing and softening inside of me when I allow myself to think of Sim, and the opposite when I think of Cross, Damon, and the angel-looking one.
I need to fight against all of these emotions; they'll get me taken advantage of, or worse, raped or killed, if my stepbrother has his way.
My mind feels like it's splitting open under the weight of it all, and I'm suddenly so bone tired.
My eyelids begin to flutter, but I force them to reopen, even as my body starts to feel heavy and languid.
My hand reaches out for the water bottle on my nightstand, but instead of grasping the plastic shell, it slips from my fingers and lands on the floor with a thick thud, before rolling away.
I try to lean forward, a groan escaping me as the room suddenly spins, and nausea races up the back of my throat.
"Noooo... what... happening?" I croak, as my body slumps against the side of the bed, and I try to force myself to stand, but my limbs refuse to cooperate.
The house groans, and rain lashes against the windows, and I swear I hear footsteps outside my door.
I try to focus, but it's as if my mind can't hold on to a single coherent thought.
I feel a tear sliding down the side of my eye, and racing across my cheek, as it presses against my expensive linens.
I try to force my lips to move to call for help, but nothing escapes me but a muffled mewling sound.
The muted light flickers, reflecting off the plastic bottle, and the air seems to cool, as my blood pumps in my ears.
Something about the bottle catches my attention, but it's fleeting, and before I can grasp the thought, it's gone, as panic rages against exhaustion.
I close my eyes, promising myself that I'll just rest for a moment, and then I'll get back to work on my plan. My last thought before darkness takes me blares through my mind. Stay focused, Olly. You came here to destroy monsters. Don’t let them make you one of them.