Chapter 7 Bitter Pills
bitter pills
Saige
It's late afternoon by the time we get back to the parking garage. Dax took me to the busy bookstore on the way back and then insisted on helping me carry my things back to my room.
I argued for only a minute before I gave up. It's not like I can actually prevent any of them from finding out where I sleep at night if they really want to know.
And I'm pretty sure that's the only reason he's doing this. Spotting a familiar face as we enter the building, I duck, but of course, it's useless.
"Hey!" Kira says as we pass.
My heart jumps into my throat. I stop, turning to face her. "Oh, hey, Kira."
"Where have you been?" she asks me. "Have you been getting my texts?"
"Um, yeah, sorry. My phone was dead. I meant to text you back, I just…haven't been feeling great."
"Hey, I'm Dax."
I squeeze my eyes closed, blowing out a breath.
"Yeah, I know. We've met," Kira says. "And you've just been…what? Hanging out with your brother's friend, whom you told me to stay away from because he ruins lives?"
"You said that about me?" Dax asks, feigning offense. "Talk about a knife to the heart, Ripley."
"Hmm…yeah. I stand by that, actually. You've literally ruined my life."
"You're funny, babe." He flashes Kira a dimpled smile. "Anyway, looks like you're on your way out, so I'll see you around, um…"
"…Kira."
"Kira, right. I remember."
He's lying, and we both know it.
"Right. Text me later, Saige."
"I will," I tell her, forcing a smile.
"Your friend seems nice," Dax says once we're out of earshot. "I've never met her, though."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, okay."
"Are you the kind of friends who get each other off or the pointless kind?"
Ignoring him, I dig out my room key and turn it in the lock. "You can go now."
"No way. I want to see your…" Dax pauses as I gasp, covering my mouth with both hands. "…room."
"What is that?!" I shriek, eyes watering. "Dax, what—" He covers my mouth and pushes me inside the room, slamming the door closed behind us. "Shhh…you can't scream like that, Saige. You can't draw attention to yourself. Be quiet, okay?"
The entire room has been torn apart—drawers turned out, clothes strewn across the floor. But that's not what draws my eye.
Blood and entrails stain my slate-grey sheets, with something small and dark in color at its center.
I nod, tears stinging my eyes, and Dax removes his hand and approaches the bed.
"It's a squirrel," he says plainly. "Do you have a garbage bag?"
I point to the cabinet beneath the television. Dax grabs a bag, shakes it out, and then rolls up my sheets and blankets with the dead squirrel in the middle before tossing it all inside.
"Stay here," he says. "I'll be right back, okay?"
He ties off the bag, leaving me alone in the room. A warm breeze catches my attention, and my eyes move to the cracked window. I climb up onto the bare mattress and slam it closed.
Dax returns a few seconds later on his phone.
"Yeah." He waits, listening. "Okay…I got it. We'll be back in like…ten minutes." He ends the call, and then turns to me. "Pack a bag, Ripley."
"What?"
"You can't stay here. Not until we find out who's doing this. Pack some clothes, your books, whatever shit you need on a daily basis."
"But…I don't want to stay with you."
"Elias figured you'd say that, and he told me to remind you that you don't really have a choice. If this is connected to the other night, then it isn't just your problem, is it? We'll figure it out, and then we'll take care of it."
"Maybe we should just go to the police."
"No."
"I won't tell them about you."
Dax sighs, tossing my suitcase onto the bed. "Keep talking like that, and maybe you'll disappear, too. Maybe your mom. Is that what you want?"
"Dax…"
"Look, Saige…" He closes the space between us, threading his fingers into my hair and cradling my head in his hands.
"I don't want to be like this with you, but if there is someone else who knows what you did, then they might know what we did, too.
And if you think about it, doesn't it make you feel safer to know that you have someone like me on your side? Someone who is willing to do…anything?"
He tugs at my hair, forcing me to look up at him—at all 6'3" of him. He could snap my neck right now if he wanted to; he wouldn't even break a sweat. But that's not how he looks at me.
He looks at me like I'm his, but not like a lover—like a pet. In my head, a scene plays of a little boy in front of a pet store saying, Don't worry, Mom. I can take care of it, I promise.
I'm going to end up like that squirrel.
A slight smile plays on his lips before he wets them with his tongue. "That wasn't a rhetorical question."
No, I think. No is the answer. Nothing about Dax makes me feel safe.
But I know better than to say it right now. After everything, I still have stronger survival skills than that, so I nod.
He leans down, pressing his lips to mine. I can think of few scenarios less romantic than threatening to kill someone and their mom after finding a dead animal in their bedroom, but of course, that's lost on Dax. In his mind, he's sweet and protective; he's making me feel safe.
But his lips are soft, and he smells good.
While my body freezes, I inhale deeply, breathing him in while his tongue subtly coaxes my lips apart.
I gasp when he slips into my mouth, deepening the kiss briefly before pulling away, lingering with my bottom lip between his teeth for a few seconds before releasing it.
"I like having you around, Ripley," he whispers against my lips. "And there's nothing to be afraid of. When we find out who's doing this, we're going to kill them."
"Okay…" But I don't find comfort in his words or his lips—both are equally terrifying.
"Get your stuff, and let's get out of here. If we're any later, Elias is probably going to come looking for us."
Defeated, I begin indiscriminately grabbing clothes from around the room and filling the suitcase.
As much as I don't want to stay with them, I know he's right, and I can't stay here.
I pack my makeup and toiletries last and then close the bag.
Dax takes both the suitcase and my backpack, holding the door for me while I grab my purse and leave the room, locking it behind us.
We exit the building, and I follow closely behind Dax, my heart pounding, unable to shake the feeling of eyes on my back.
Campus is still bustling, the late September evening air still warm enough that fellow students line the streets.
Every shout causes me to jump, my nerves misfiring.
With unsteady hands, I dig around in my purse until I finally find an old, almost-empty pack of cigarettes.
I bring one to my lips and light it, inhaling, instantly feeling that dopamine release, but it's short-lived.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Dax whips around, letting my suitcase fall to the ground before plucking the cigarette out of my mouth and tossing it into the grass.
"What do you mean? I just—"
"Never fucking do that. As long as you're anywhere in or around our house, which is every fucking day, you can't smoke. Ever. You got it?"
"I…yeah, I guess. But…why?"
"Because I fucking said so—that's why."
"Okay, I…I'm sorry." I don't really mean it. I'm not sorry; his reaction seems completely illogical. I'm angry at myself for allowing it to slip from my lips, but it seems to satisfy Dax.
"That's okay, baby," he says, bending down to grab the handle of my suitcase. "You didn't know, but now you do. Don't let it happen again, okay?"
He flashes me a quick smile before turning back to the street, and I follow quietly behind him down the block and up to the townhouse.
When we step inside, Elias waits in the living room, Arcadia at his side on the couch, a glass of gin in his hand. Or at least I assume it's gin—it has been his drink of choice in the past. "You didn't send me those notes."
I shake my head, incredulous. "Yeah, I've been a little busy, Elias."
"Well, you're not fucking busy now, are you?"
"Come on, Saige," Dax says, gesturing for me to follow him.
Dax leads me into a small bedroom on the first floor. It looks as though it's meant to be an office, as there isn't a closet, and there's barely any room to walk around the queen-sized bed.
"There's a bathroom with a shower in the next room. You can stay here until we figure this out," he says, double-checking the window lock.
"I don't—"
"You don't want to; I know. Save your breath. We both know it's pointless." I sigh, sinking into the mattress. "Just send him the notes. Then, you can start on the laundry, and I'll order us all food, okay?"
I save my breath like he told me to, but scowl at him silently.
Dax rolls his eyes and then takes my laptop from my bag and opens it, setting it beside me on the bed. "You know, you'll be a lot happier if you stop fighting us every step of the way. In fact, I bet you'll like it. Hell, you might even love it."
Again, I don't reply. I have no idea what he's talking about—I don't know what there is to like about cooking and cleaning up after my worst enemy.
And whatever else they make me do.
He leaves me alone, not bothering to close the door, and I overhear him and Elias speaking in hushed tones in the living room, but I can't quite make out what they're saying. Begrudgingly, I send Elias the notes I took earlier and then start gathering their laundry.
Nolan's bedroom is first, so I stop there, opening the slightly ajar door.
The dark space is illuminated only with what little light comes from a brand new fish tank against the far wall.
I search the room for the laundry basket for a few seconds before I run into him and almost jump out of my fucking skin.
"Fuck!" I step back, covering my heart with my hands. "You scared the shit out of me."
"This is my fucking room."