Chapter 14 Riley
Riley
“I HAD TO CHOOSE”
I’ve spent the greater part of thirty minutes weaving in and out of consciousness but haven’t been able to stay awake, let alone open my eyes. I’m not sure where I am, but I don’t think I’m in heaven because I really don’t think it would smell like antiseptic and lemons.
It also tells me that I’m no longer in a dark, secluded room, because not only is it bright as hell behind my lids, but the smell of blood and bodily fluids is completely gone.
My entire body aches as flashes of Collins screaming and Guy holding a gun to my head threaten to take over like a vivid dream.
Familiar, hushed tones somewhere in the distance steal my attention.
I honestly can’t tell what’s real and what’s an illusion.
The last thing I remember was seeing Collins tied to the bed, cut and bruised beyond what her body could handle, and how fucking helpless I was to stop any of it from happening.
I take stock of the fact that my feet are elevated and I’m no longer upright against a cold, hard chair.
Where the hell am I?
A soft gasp from a voice I know like the back of my hand cuts through the air, the sound aiming straight for my heart.
I want to open my eyes, but I’m terrified.
I’m terrified to see the damage I caused by allowing her to be seen in public when she was being hunted.
I’m terrified that I’ll somehow still be in that room, seeing the hope fading from her eyes as I remain just out of reach.
What terrifies me the most, though, is just not seeing her.
A thousand emotions war inside me as tears build behind my lids, threatening to break free for fear of the unknown.
Although, there’s also an undercurrent of anticipation there, but I’ll never know the truth of my situation if I don’t just open my eyes.
I have to have hope that she’s really here and that she’s safe.
So, I open them.
My lashes flutter, and I fight against the bright lights of the room to open my eyes for the first time.
There she is.
Standing at the end of the bed, is the one girl whom I’d given my heart to. The one I fell so hard and fast for. The one who survived the worst and now stands before me looking so fucking strong and ethereal with her hair glowing in the sun that shines through the window beside her.
My girl.
My Collins.
My Snow.
Her light green eyes shine with glimmering, unshed tears as she grips her stomach with one hand and covers her mouth with the other.
It’s an odd thing to notice, but I note that her nails are now shorter and have been painted a soft pearlescent purple versus the broken, black nails that she still had while in that room. It’s a reminder that grounds me with the knowledge that this isn’t an illusion.
She’s here. She’s here. She’s here.
A lone tear falls down Collins’ cheek and it’s chased by my own at finally seeing her and knowing that she’s truly here and safe.
“Snow,” is all I choke out before she’s across the room. Her eyes rapidly track everywhere that I’m bandaged before she carefully yet swiftly climbs into bed beside me and buries her face in my neck.
“Riley,” she cries, her tears soaking into my skin as both of our shoulders shake from the tears that fall freely now. “Oh my God.”
“I know, baby, I know,” I choke out, still stunned that we’re here and not…there.
My right arm is bound to my side and immobilized, so I wrap my left arm around her and bury my trembling hand in her hair, ignoring the burning sting of the rope burns on my wrists.
No pain compares to the relief that takes over me with the feeling of her being in my arms again.
I can’t stop kissing her hair as I take in her scent that has so quickly come to feel like home.
She’s really here. She’s safe. We’re safe.
The bed dips on the other side and the tears just run faster and harder down my cheeks when I lay eyes on the man who has been my one constant for years.
The first person with whom I’ve found a home, a place to belong, and the love he taught me that I deserve.
A man whom my soul had come to yearn for and feared I would never see again.
I sniffle before a sob breaks free, and my head falls forward with the weight of the emotions threatening to crush me over seeing him again.
Collins clings to me, not daring to let go, so I hold her tighter.
I can’t control the way my shoulders tremble with how hard I’m crying.
Creed’s hand wraps gently around the back of my neck at the same moment I feel his forehead press to mine.
The simple contact between these two instantly soothes something vital within my battered soul. With the sensation of touching Collins again, and Creed’s hand clamped around the back of my neck tightly, I feel grounded. It’s like coming home.
With my arm bound, I can’t touch him back like I so desperately need to, so I lean further into him and he takes my weight with ease. Emotions have me choked up, but these moments with Creed have always spoken louder than any words ever could. Now, more than ever.
I know he understands my silent communication because when I open my eyes to look at him, his bright blue orbs are already locked onto me, even this close, and he nods, his forehead rocking against mine in quiet acknowledgment. It’s an answer to the silent question racing through my mind.
It was him. He saved us.
I nod back, hoping he can feel my gratitude, my tears never slowing.
Creed pulls away just enough to look me over, then glances to Collins and nods once more, like he’s having some internal conversation and is reassuring himself that we really are here. That we’re okay.
He places a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth before leaning over me and kissing the small bit of Collins’ jaw that’s exposed from where she’s burrowed into my side.
I still can’t believe it myself, that we’re alive. It feels surreal.
After several minutes, Collins sits up and Creed is quick to swipe the stray tears from one of her cheeks while I capture the other before it reaches her jaw. She cups both of our hands, squeezes her eyes closed, and takes a deep breath before she speaks.
“I was so scared,” she rasps, such a quiet whisper that I almost don’t hear it. “I was scared we wouldn’t see you again.” She looks at Creed, then slides her green eyes to me and more tears fall as she breathes, “I was terrified that he was going to take you from me.”
Creed curses silently, and my bottom lip wobbles as memories of that last day hit me.
My body was moments from giving in as I hovered over the line of life and death.
The feeling of being so helpless, so devastated, so fucking guilty all crash into me very much like they did that day.
How my mother’s words echoed around in my head, reminding me that my very existence is what leads to people getting hurt.
To people leaving me. How I would’ve been better off alone… or in my case…dead.
My fuck ups of taking Collins out to public places is what kept feeding Guy the crumbs he needed to follow her.
To stalk her until he found the perfect, vulnerable moment to strike.
I am the reason that she’s covered in cuts and bruises.
It’s my fault that she was tied to that bed and suffered immeasurably at that sick fuck’s hands.
“Hey, hey,” Creed cuts in through the tormenting haze as he tightens the hand that grips my hair. “Whatever you’re thinking, whatever has your face doing—“ he says before gesturing a finger around my face, “that…stop it.”
“I can’t,” I whisper as Collins wipes a stray tear from my cheek.
I look down at her. The bruising in her face has healed to more of a green and yellow than blue and purple, and several of the cuts that Guy made have either scabbed over well, or have perfectly placed sutures holding them together.
My gut twists with nausea when I see the wound dressing peeking from beneath the sleeve of my shirt that she wears.
I feel like I’m either going to puke or pass out.
She catches me and follows my line of sight. “I haven’t looked at it yet,” she rasps, lifting her sleeve and brushing her finger along the bandage. “I think I know what I’ll find just based on the pain alone, but I wasn’t ready to see it.”
Definitely going to be sick. And she’ll fucking hate me for the rest of her life when she finds out it was entirely my fault. “I’m so sorry, Snow.”
Her brow furrows in confusion, and Creed sits next to us, his jaw clenching as he tries to piece it all together.
“Why do you keep apologizing, Ri? None of this was your fault.”
“But it was,” I blurt out, nearly choking on the lump that’s grown in my throat. I nod toward her bandage. “I’m the reason why you no longer have a tattoo there.”
All the blood drains from Collins’ face, and my stomach hollows out.
“What?” Creed breathes, his face a mask of shock and horror; it cleaves my heart right in two, not that I deserve to feel this way. I deserve every bit of their wrath. “Riley, what are you talking about?”
“Ri—“
“Did you do this to her?” The question doesn’t come out as accusatory, but as a soft placation.
My heart pounds, utterly shattered and devastated at the thought of losing them with my confession. My mother’s lifelong mantra for me is becoming my worst reality.
Did I take the blade to her skin? No, but I’m the one who had to choose.
“N-no,” I rush out, looking at Collins whose face is scarily unreadable, but I selfishly tighten my arm around her, hoping she’ll let me hold her just a little bit longer.
“I would never hurt you, Collins. I—he forced me to choose.”
“I–I don’t remember this. Was I…”
I nod, trying to swallow again, but it’s futile. Bouncing my watery gaze between Creed and Collins, I force myself to confess. Folding my shaking hands in my lap, I take in a shaky breath. I can’t lie to them and I won’t keep secrets.