Chapter 27 Thalassophobia
thalassophobia
Saige
Ithought it couldn't get any worse than this.
The moment he flipped on me, I knew what I was. I knew I was nothing but prey to him. Maybe he fucking ruined my life, but I always thought, At least I didn't fall for him.
At least I never slept with him.
I must have cried on that bathroom floor for hours, feeling empty, my thighs sticky with his cum, aching between my legs from the way he stretched and filled me.
Tears rolled down my cheeks while I replayed it in my head, trying to figure out the exact moment I knew it was him and why I didn't fucking care.
I wanted him—I guess just because it felt good. But I kissed him and touched him while he said all of that disgusting shit to me. Like that he loves me.
And then, he sends me a message. Turns out, he was right. There was never anyone stalking me—no one but him. He kept me terrified this whole time to control me. That's worse than an obsession. It's fucking sick and twisted.
I made sure he was asleep before I crept out of the bathroom this morning, and then I packed all of my things and came back to my room. I must have spent an hour in the shower—staying long after the water had run cold—and then I put on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and climbed into bed.
The bed with no pillows or blankets; the one that's just a bare mattress because Elias gutted a squirrel and left it in my bed. Sick and twisted. I think of the texts he's sent me and the way he played with me with the knife last night. Maybe he really does want to do those things he said to me.
As if that isn't bad enough, I told Dax I loved him, and then he couldn't get away from me fast enough. He couldn't even tell me he didn't want me anymore, that he didn't like me like that—he just passed me to Elias.
I barely move over the next twelve hours.
I'm not hungry, I'm not thirsty, I can't sleep.
It's like my heart's been torn from my ribcage, and just when I thought it was okay to take off the barbed wire I'd so carefully wrapped around it to keep it safe from new wounds while it calloused and scarred.
I close my eyes, picturing the little black dress hanging on the back of my closet door. I wonder, just for a second, if I deserved all of it. But no one ever gets what they deserve.
It's been hours since I last checked my phone, and I wouldn't now, but it doesn't seem like it's another text. It just keeps buzzing against the nightstand and won't stop.
It must be a call.
When I grab it to silence it, it's a message from the university's emergency alert system. But it isn't a text—it's a video. I hit play and then sit up for the first time all day, blinking at the screen.
There's no fucking way. I have to be hallucinating. They've finally driven me fucking insane, and I'm seeing shit. I'm haunting myself now, fucking scarred by what happened last night and doomed to replay it in my head forever.
But I know I'm not when only seconds later, I get a text from Kira with a fucking screenshot of my face and bare tits, asking if I'm the one in the video. Of course, you can't tell who the man in the video is at all.
No…no, he couldn't have.
Who am I kidding? Of course, he did. He showed me who he was a long time ago. He told me himself that men never mean the things they say.
Even though there's nothing in my stomach, I think I'm going to be sick. I stumble out of bed, my knees weak, and crawl across the floor of my room. Even though I cried my eyes dry, I sob while dry heaving into the garbage can.
It hurts; I'm in physical and emotional agony, but it doesn't even surprise me that he did it. This is the kind of cruel he is when he doesn't get his way, and he knows I know everything he did now. Of course, he sees himself as the victim, and he needs to make me fucking pay for it.
This room isn't far enough. I need to leave British Columbia.
I stop when I hear my window go up, and when I turn around, the giant fucking sociopath is climbing into my room. "Get out!" I scream, trying to shove him back out the window, pummeling him with my fists. "Get the fuck out of my room! I fucking hate you!"
But it's worthless. Even though squeezing through the small window isn't easy for him, my hitting and shoving doesn't faze him.
"What the fuck?! That was locked!"
"Your lock is broken," he says. "I broke it; I'm sorry."
"You're fucking sick, you know that? What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you do this to me?"
"Fine! I'm sick, but Saige, I was just helping us both get what we wanted and—"
"This is not what I wanted!"
"Will you please just listen to me?"
"No!"
He takes a couple of steps toward me, and I move backward until I hit the wall.
"I know you're mad at me, and I know I deserve it, but I didn't do what you think I did, Saige. I didn't send that video—it was someone else."
"Bullshit! There's never been anyone else; it was you the entire fucking time!" I sob. "You win—you're better at this than me. I'm not a sick person; I can't beat you. You got me. Just…fucking leave me alone, Elias."
"Saige, I love you. I don't want to win—I just want you."
"You said there was no such thing as love, remember? You're only as good to people as what you can do for them—you taught me that."
"I was wrong. I love you."
"Stop fucking saying that!"
"It's true, Saige. It's so fucking true. I love you so much; I wouldn't do that to you."
"I refuse to believe that this is love! This is a fucking illness, Elias. You killed animals!"
"No…no, the squirrel was already dead. I found it in front of the parking garage. And the others…those were just pictures I found online. I didn't kill any animals."
"You just what? Carried it around in your backpack and scooped its guts out with a spoon? Or did you use your bare hands?"
"…I don't think you really want the specifics."
I shake my head. "You make me fucking sick." I turn to the door, but he darts in front of me, blocking the exit.
"Saige, you kissed me. You ran your fingers through my hair, and you held me. You don't hate me."
"Please stop talking!" I cry.
"I would do anything for you—don't you see that? I can make you happy, Saige. I promise I had nothing to do with that video. You think I want anyone to see you like that?"
He reaches for my cheek, and I bat his hand away. "You're a fucking liar! You need to get the hell out of my room."
"I can't," he says. "I'm sorry. Not until you tell me you believe me."
"I will never believe you!" I slip on my shoes and then grab my bag and keys from the desk. "Move."
"Where are you going? I'll go with you, okay?"
"I don't care—I just know I'm getting the fuck away from you! Fucking move!"
Elias shakes his head. "No, Saige. I'm sorry; I can't."
Fuck this.
I take my keys and bag and jump out the fucking window, running around the back of the building toward the parking garage. It's a lot easier for me than it is for Elias because I'm not a fucking giant, and when I turn the corner, he's still trying to climb out.
"Saige, wait! It's not safe!" he shouts.
Fuck that, because it was always him. I was never unsafe. "Fuck off!" I shout over my shoulder before I turn into the alleyway toward the garage, hoping he doesn't know the shortcut.
But then I end up flat on my back, cracking my skull before gasping for air. It feels like I got clotheslined; I clutch at my throat while trying to catch my breath.
Before I can sit up, something pulls at my feet. When I look up, a man in a white skull mask is dragging me down the alley. My backpack falls off, and my sweatshirt rides up as he drags me, the wet pavement grating against my back.
"Elias?" I ask through blurred vision. "What are you…"
The man shakes his head and laughs. He isn't Elias. He couldn't be.
"Help!" I start kicking and screaming, getting a leg free when I wriggle out of one of my shoes. I flip over and try to run, but I barely get two steps in before he pulls my legs out from under me and I'm flat on my face again.
This time, he leans over, pulling a gun from his waistband and pistol-whipping my jaw. "Stop fighting, you fucking whore, or you'll bleed out in this alley, do you fucking understand me?"
He's speaking through a voice scrambler, and it's fucking terrifying. I sob, choking on blood, screaming for help when I realize he's dragging me toward a white van like the one I saw outside Elias's house the other day.
"Please don't hurt me," I cry as he opens the back of the van. "My boyfriend has money. Please. I didn't do anything."
But all that gets me is a hard thump on the back of my head. I'm falling out of consciousness now; I can feel it. I'm swimming, trying to stay afloat on the cold, dark water beneath me, but I'm losing.
I no longer see stars behind my eyes. I see nothing.
Screaming comes from somewhere behind me—there's definitely some sort of struggle, but I can't make myself move. My body won't cooperate. I hear the squeal of tires against the pavement before I hear Elias's voice somewhere in the back of my mind.
"Saige? Saige, are you okay? Open your eyes, baby. Wake up. Please wake up…"
I don't know if it's real or not because I'm already underwater. And I'm tired of swimming.