Chapter 35 Slade
Slade
My hair sticks to my forehead as a living furnace that’s also known as Bane wraps around me.
Even before I was fully awake, I knew Bane was in bed with me. Each time I had fallen into a nightmare with Antwane coming for my soul, Bane’s scent and his touch bolstered my strength to beat Antwane back. I killed him before he could even hurt one of the Numbers in my dream state.
“He’s dead, Slade.” Bane’s chest rumbles against my back, and I realize I must have been talking while I slowly woke up. “You stopped him, baby.”
I burrow deep under the covers and against him, even though I’m hotter than hell. “You upgraded from the chair in the corner to sleeping in the bed.”
Bane rolls me over onto my side so I’m facing him. “You knew I was coming in here?”
“I guessed that you were.” I shrug, trying to deflect. But of course, he wants to dig deeper, and he’s not going to let this go. “I could smell you,” I admit, wincing at how that sounds. “It’s a distinct smell of pine mixed with gasoline, along with leather.”
He sniffs his shirt, making me laugh. The sound of it makes his head snap back to mine. His eyes are soft and…happy?
I brush back a lock of hair that’s fallen into his eyes.
His hazel eyes, that at times look like whiskey and other times like the finest crystallized amber.
Where this poetic description is coming from, I don’t know, but as I lay with him in the dim morning light, staring at him, feeling him, absorbing the scent of him.
It all grounds me, and I don’t question it.
Because it feels damn wonderful to feel something again, other than that blessed-yet-cursed numb nothingness, and to feel something without being mentally assaulted.
He shifts closer so our bodies are pressed together.
Even though his cock is a steel rod in his jeans pressed against my stomach, I know the move isn’t sexual.
Same as when he wraps his arm around my waist and places his hand over the scar on my lower back.
“Can you tell me more? Talk about it more?”
“Why?” My lip trembles as the demons inside me wake up.
“Because it eats at your soul. Because then it’s not just you carrying that burden all by yourself.”
“What…” I swallow hard as the screams are starting to increase in my head. “What if I spiral? Dissociate again?” I’m staring hard at Bane, trying to keep him as the centerpiece of my vision to stop the flashes of memories of the Numbers.
His hands tighten on me. “I have you, my fierce, strong warrior. I have your back and your front. It’s you and me against Antwane's ghost, and he’s no match.
” He leans forward and kisses me. The kiss is so different from yesterday’s; it’s soft, almost chaste, and it feels like he’s worshipping me.
“It’s time to remove Antwane’s control over you. He can’t ever hurt you again.”
A breath shudders out of me, and it feels like I’m expelling toxic air.
The screams in my head escalate, though, like they’re warning me not to spill any more of our dark secrets.
Like they want to stay chained, trapped, and to reverberate inside my mind in a never-ending echo chamber.
Not wanting to be free. Because this is my punishment, my penance.
To live with their haunting screams because I got to live while they died, and this is what I deserve.
“That’s your guilt talking, Slade.” With Bane’s words, I realize I spoke those thoughts out loud. “Let those screams be free so their ghosts can rest.”
“I don’t even know their names,” I whisper brokenly. “After I freed myself, I could’ve tried to find out, but…I couldn’t bring myself to put names to their faces and their screams. I couldn’t—” I choke. “And Number Fourteen’s death… The guilt… Because he had to die before I could free myself.”
“You did what you had to do, Slade. You were chained to the wall.”
I grip Bane, begging him to understand, even though there’s no judgment on his face or in his eyes. “I would’ve never had the strength to fight Antwane to get the knife he used to slash me, but he forgot about the small blade in his pocket. I wanted to save Number Fourteen, but I couldn’t,” I sob.
Bane cups my cheeks, his eyes filled with the pain of my hell. “No one can ever blame you.”
“I blame me.”
I blame myself, and maybe that is the largest reason I’ve needed to repress any and all emotions, because I couldn’t bear the weight of the guilt. Not on my own. But now, maybe with my defender, I can, and that’s why I’m able to feel with him.
“My beautiful, strong girl.” His voice is hoarse and raw. “You’re not to blame.”
More tears soak my cheeks, and his thumbs brush them away.
But another thing haunts me. “I can’t remember Number Thirteen’s death, Bane,” I whisper. “Why? Why is her death the only one I can’t remember?”
You’d think that would be a blessing. Instead, it brings dread and even more anguish.
His thumbs brush over my cheeks again. “I don’t know, but I’ll help you figure it out. And if we can never figure it out, then I promise you I’ll always help you bear that burden.”
I bury my face in his throat, feeling the swell of agony within me, nearly being crushed by it, but I control the screams and vivid flashes of memory and stay present.
Breathing in deeply, inhaling his scent and feeling him wrap around me, I let him hold me. His hands run over my scars while he whispers how strong and treasured I am as I drift off into a dreamless sleep.