Chapter 19
trauma bonding is bad, by the way
Saige
Not the fucking alarm again.
I'm alone in Nolan's bed, which isn't a surprise. He's always the first one up, and lingering in bed isn't his style; it doesn't mesh with his morning routine.
After dragging my reluctant body from bed, I head downstairs with Arcadia on my heels.
"Morning," Nolan says when I step into the living room. "I already let her out, but she ran back upstairs to be with you."
Of course, she did. That's why she's my dog. I lean over and pat her head.
"I made breakfast, too," he adds.
Two coffees and two plates with pancakes and strawberries sit on the table. Only two.
"What about Dax and Elias?" I ask.
Nolan shrugs. "They didn't come home last night."
My heart drops into my stomach. "Oh…"
This feeling. I hate having fucking feelings; I avoid them like the plague. But I especially hate this feeling. It's so fucking familiar and unwelcome I could scream.
Instead, I fix my face, swallow the lump in my throat, and force out the words, "Well, good. I'm glad it'll be just us. That's how I like it."
He smiles, but I can tell he doesn't believe me. I want to ask him if it bothers him, too, and if it doesn't, maybe ask for tips on how to fix it, but I don't. He kisses the top of my head and sits beside me.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." I take a bite of the pancakes, hoping it'll help mask that sinking feeling in my gut. I've never been a person whose face hid their feelings well.
And now, I'm having difficulty swallowing. Great.
I take a drink of coffee to help force it down.
"Do you want to go do something tonight?" Nolan asks. "I texted Dax, too, but he must not be up yet. But we could go out—maybe to a bar or even a movie, if you want."
"…You really think Dax would want to do something like that?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't he?"
I don't think Dax likes me outside of the bunker. He doesn't like me like Nolan does. For him, it is transactional. I'm his favorite broken toy…until he gets tired of playing with me.
I'm going to sound like a fucking crybaby if I say that aloud. Fuck, I think I might actually cry, and it's terrifying.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I find myself staring out at the backyard again, and then I'm back in Elias's room, looking over the railing of the small balcony at Miles's body lying in the grass.
"Saige? Do you want me to walk you to class?"
"What?" Oh, right—I never answered him. He must think I'm worried about my stalker. "Oh, no; I'm fine. I don't feel afraid on campus during the day. I've only seen him after dark."
"Well, to be honest, I'd love to fucking see him again after dark," Nolan says. "I'm sure Dax would, too."
"Yeah…not me."
"It'll be okay, Saige."
"I know," I lie.
I don't think he really believes it'll be okay. I don't think he's okay. But I have to admit I like the idea of the two of us being not okay together.
He smiles at me and then squeezes my hand before taking a drink of his coffee. And I just stare at his lips, remembering how they felt against mine for that brief moment last night.
I wonder when I'll get to feel them again. Even if the answer is never, I think I'm okay with it.
"Hey, Nolan?"
"Yeah?"
"Maybe sometime I could sleep in my dorm room, and you could stay with me."
Nolan pauses, thinking it over, but I can tell he doesn't like the idea. He wants to say no.
"Yeah, maybe, Saige. I just feel like you're safer here with everything going on. We have the alarm and the camera out front."
I sink a little again. "Yeah, okay. I just miss having my own space."
"You have your own space."
"This is still Elias's house. I don't live here."
Nolan frowns. "I'm really sorry, Saige. I don't know what else to do."
"It's okay," I say, looking down at the pancakes I'm mostly pushing around my plate. "I just like being alone with you."
And Dax is going to hurt me. He's hurting me already.
Before I can force Nolan into a response he isn't comfortable with, I get up and take my plate to the kitchen. "I'm going to go get ready for class."
It's colder again today, so I pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie with my Vans. Then I pull my hair up into a bun, brush my teeth, and put on just a little bit of makeup.
The entire time, I'm listening for the front door to open, watching my phone for messages. I don't get either one.
Sighing, I grab a jacket and my bag and head for the front door, where Nolan waits for me with his hands in the pockets of his joggers.
"You're going to be late," I tell him. "You didn't have to wait for me; I don't want to ruin your morning."
"I didn't want to leave you here alone. I can at least walk you out the front door," he says, throwing his arm around my shoulders before kissing the top of my head.
Again, I have to be conscious of my body, of my hands, to keep myself from wrapping them around his waist. But I can smell him.
I can feel his body heat against mine, and that's comforting.
He sets the alarm before we walk out the door together.
"Have a good day, Saige," he says. "We'll go out again tonight, okay?"
I sigh. "Yeah, okay."
I miss him already, too.
"See you later, baby."
"Bye."
I cross the street toward campus, and Nolan runs in the other direction toward the fitness center.
I have an exam in history, which I can confidently say I aced. I've spent a lot of time in the library avoiding the house, and I haven't been going out and making friends, so that leaves a lot of room for studying. And Nolan said staying busy helps keep the trauma at bay.
Mom would be so proud. Or maybe not—considering the crime.
I don't see Elias when I walk into psychology. I'm sure he's sleeping off his hangover; not that I mind. Quite frankly, I don't care where he is. Maybe he won't show up.
I take out my laptop and open my notes just before someone sets a coffee on my desk.
"Hey, princess."
Dax sits on one side of me, and Elias on the other.
"What are you doing here?" I ask Dax.
It feels like someone has my heart in a vise grip. He smiles at me and runs his fingers through my hair, and my instinct is to rub up against his hand like a fucking kitten, but I don't. It takes all of my willpower not to climb into his seat, curl up in his lap and cry.
I think I'm in love with him. I also think he spent the night with someone else, and I don't know how he could act the way he does with me when he doesn't want me the same way I want him.
I also wish he'd teach me how to do it.
"I'm not staying," he says. "I just wanted to see you because I missed you. And I wanted to bring you a coffee just in case the nightmares kept you up last night."
If he was so worried about my nightmares, then where was he?
"I actually slept okay," I tell him. "But thanks."
"You're welcome, baby." He smiles and then kisses me on the lips. "I have to go, but I'll see you at home, okay?"
"Okay."
"Bye, Ripley. Have a good day."
"Bye…"
He kisses me again, lingering for a few seconds this time, before grabbing his bag and leaving.
And I'm left feeling like I barely survived the encounter. I blink back tears as my face burns hot. I want to know where he was last night. I want to run after him and beg him to love me back.
I want to forget about him and never talk to him again.
I close my eyes, exhaling slowly, hoping to regain my composure. And beside me, Elias laughs.
"What's so fucking funny?" I ask flatly before taking a drink of my coffee.
"Oh, nothing," he says, continuing to chuckle.
He smells like smoke and looks like he's still drunk; there's no way he even changed his clothes, let alone showered.
Still, I watch girls walk by and turn their heads to get a better look at him, and he flashes each of them one of those incredibly misleading golden boy smiles as they file into their seats.
"You stink," I mumble just before the professor starts class.
If he hears me, he ignores it, taking out his laptop so he can scroll through hockey highlights on TSN.
"Okay, so if you all can open Module 9…" Professor Whitman says. Once the module pops up on the screen at the front of the room, Elias laughs again.
"I know you said no unnecessary communication, but this really is necessary," he says. "You're going to want to pay close attention to this one, Saige. Take extra notes."
I roll my eyes, and then look up at the screen: 9.2 Trauma Bonding.
"Now, the colloquial definition of trauma bonding you're used to hearing is likely incorrect," she says.
"Like gaslighting, trauma bonding is one of those terms that have kind of been hijacked by pop culture to mean something else entirely.
So, you and your friends might say you've trauma bonded, and when you say that, you probably mean that you've shared your traumatic life experiences with each other and bonded over them, but that isn't exactly what the term means—there's no dependency involved.
Can anyone give me one of the proper definitions of trauma bonding? "
Elias's hand shoots up in the air. "I remember this one from last year," he whispers.
"Yes, you in the blue near the back."
"Trauma bonding is when someone forms a deep emotional attachment to their abuser," Elias says.
"That's correct," Professor Whitman says.
"Trauma bonding typically happens between a victim and an abuser.
We're going to dive into trauma bonding today.
We'll discuss the psychology behind why it happens and what makes the cycle so difficult to break.
Physical, emotional, and sexual abuse can all result in trauma bonding, especially if the abuser is loving or comforting afterward.
Additionally, the release of stress hormones during an abusive situation can actually strengthen the victim's bond to their abuser. "
My pulse starts racing. Suddenly, I feel like I'm under a fucking microscope and everyone is looking at me. Is this what's wrong with me? Is this what's been happening to me?