Chapter 18
a room without a view
Saige
The police arrived just minutes after I called, but they never found Elias. Dax didn't need to bring me to the police department because they came to us, but he did call a lawyer.
There's been a cop car parked in front of the house since.
The campus is crawling with them. Police from surrounding municipalities have come to West Pine to join the search, but so far, no one has found Elias.
A security camera caught him driving a stolen Hyundai Elantra, but he ditched it a few miles outside of town. He could be in the forest, or he could have stolen another car.
Local news stations have pretty much run with the idea that he's the one responsible for Isla's disappearance as well as my attack—allegedly. I see her face every time I open my phone. She had long blonde hair, just like what they pulled from Elias's trunk.
They talk about his mom, too. It has to be killing Alex.
He and my mother have been staying at a hotel just off campus all week. They come over every day; I can feel the tension between them, and I hate it. My mom's eyes are red and swollen, and Alex looks like he hasn't slept in days.
And Dax's dad is furious with him. He wants him to end it with me and froze all of his credit cards.
Dax says he doesn't care but…he's been drinking too much again, and so have I.
We skip the gym and get fucked up in the evenings before fucking each other while Nolan sleeps on the couch.
If Elias comes back again, he wants to be the thing between him and his wasted girlfriend and boyfriend, unconscious upstairs.
Despite the increased police presence, Nolan and Dax are still escorting me to and from class. Nolan shifted his schedule, and he's been going to the gym at five in the morning all week, just to make sure I'm never alone.
He's tired, too. And he's angry. I've never felt so detached from him, and it's tearing me apart.
I look up at him now—all broody, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, jet black hair falling in front of his face. I reach for it, but he catches my wrist before I can touch him, kissing the inside of my palm instead.
I've deregulated him. How long can this go on before he decides I'm not worth it anymore?
"I'll have to have Dax cut it again soon," he says, pushing the hair I wanted to touch away from his face. "It's getting long, huh?"
"Yeah," I say, trying not to cry. "I like it."
"Dax will meet you here after he gets out of class," he tells me. "Don't leave the building."
"Nolan, are you mad at me?"
"No, Saige. I'm mad at Elias. I'm just tired of this. I'll, um, I'll pick up something to eat, and I'll see you at home, okay?"
"I love you," I tell him.
"I love you, too, baby."
He turns, leaving me in the library. I know he doesn't mean to be cold; his head just isn't in a good place. But I'm not in a good place, either, and even though I tell myself it isn't rejection, it doesn't stop it from feeling that way.
Then, I feel guilty all over again.
I find a quiet place on the fourth floor to wait for Dax—in the periodicals section. No one really browses the stacks anymore—everything is digitized—which works for me.
I take out my phone and send him a text.
Fourth floor, same spot as Wednesday.
After it goes through, I pull a flask from inside my jacket, take a shot, and then start scrolling through news articles again.
I don't know what I expect to find. There's nothing new; just the same recycled garbage. A lot of it isn't even true—it's just made up for engagement.
I've lost track of how many times I've heard that the police found me beaten and emaciated in Elias's trunk when they pulled him over. I stopped commenting and trying to correct them days ago; I know there's no point.
And somewhere between the truth and the lies, there's video after video of students burning their West Pine Batman shirts and Wolverines gear.
I bring the flask to my lips and take another swig.
"Hey there, princess," Dax says. "Looks like we're two of a kind."
"What do you mean?"
"This isn't water, either," he says, gesturing to his water bottle before stumbling onto the floor beside me.
I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him into me until his forehead hits mine.
"Ow!" He laughs, and I smell the alcohol on his breath.
I shouldn't love that he's this fucked up again, but it beats being this fucked up alone.
"I fucking love you," I tell him.
"I fucking love you, too."
"You're my best friend, Dax."
He leans in, his mouth devouring mine, and now I taste the whiskey. If I weren't already drunk, I think I could get drunk off his kiss. It's addictive, and even better, it's distracting.
He moves on top of me, laying me down on my back, but… "Ow, fuck. My backpack." It's not even funny, but we both laugh again. "Shit."
"Well, take it off, my little turtle."
I slip my bag and my jacket from my shoulders, tossing them aside, then pull him down on top of me, bringing my lips to his before grinding my pussy against his cock.
"That's better," he says. "Much fucking better…"
"Dax," I whisper, "let's fuck. I want you to fuck me."
"Yeah? You want me to fuck your pussy right here?" he asks against my mouth.
"Yeah, here. Please. I need it."
"You're not worried about getting caught?"
"No one ever comes up here, and if they do, they can watch. I don't give a fuck." I need the distraction, and so does he. The rush of potentially getting caught is a distraction, too.
"Get on your hands and knees, baby."
I turn over, and he pulls my leggings down my thighs. I wait impatiently, my pussy throbbing, while he fumbles with his jeans.
"Hurry up."
"Greedy," he says, before giving me what I want, pushing his dick into me, filling me. "I should fuck your ass for that."
"Yes…" I moan. "Oh, god…"
It feels so good, I think I could melt right into the fucking floor—and that's what I do. As Dax slowly slides his cock in and out of me, my arms slip out from under me until my face is against the carpet, and my eyes flutter closed. Finally, my brain turns off.
I just want to turn it off.
He places his hands on my hips, holding me in place while he thrusts into me. I whimper each time he buries himself to the hilt, his hips slamming into my backside.
I notice I can't feel the bruise Elias left on my ass anymore, and my eyes start watering.
I miss the pain.
"Fuck, I needed this," he groans. "How does that feel, baby?"
"Harder…" I moan. "Harder. Fuck me harder."
He gives me what I want, spreading me with his hands before pumping into me harder and faster than before, the sound of his skin against mine echoing through the large empty space.
"Yes…yes, just like that. Oh, god, don't stop…"
"Is this what my little fuck doll needed? Is this what you couldn't wait for, huh?" he grunts.
"Yes, I need it. I need your dick…fuck…fuck me…"
My legs shake, tremors wracking my body when I get my release. I think I hear footsteps, but I don't give a fuck. I meant what I said—they can watch.
I bet I look fucking pathetic—drunk and getting fucked in the library in the middle of the day, my cheek raw from rug burn.
Elias loves how pathetic I am. He'd love to see me like this; I bet he'd call me a desperate whore and shove his dick down my throat.
The thought makes my clit throb. "Oh, Dax!"
"Jesus fucking Christ, baby, I love it when you come on me. I'm going to fill you up with cum, and then when we get home, I'm going to fuck your ass raw for being such a fucking slut…"
Breathless, I mutter, "Promise?"
"Ah, fuck," he groans, burying himself inside me when he finds his release.
So deep I can feel it. I feel his dick pulsing inside me, and I can't fucking get enough. If I could live here—like this—I think I'd feel a lot better.
When he pulls out, my knees collapse from under me, and I pull up my leggings as I roll onto my back.
And just like that, I'm back in reality again. It hurts…again.
Dax says something, but I don't quite hear him over my own heaving breath.
"What?"
"You didn't hear me at all? Did I finally fuck your brains out, baby?"
"Maybe, but I think you should keep trying…just in case."
"This would fall under the category of a healthy coping mechanism, right? I'm not making this worse, am I?"
I shrug, taking another pull from the vodka. "I don't know. I learned it from you."
"That's not a good sign, is it?"
Probably not. "Have you talked to your dad?"
"No," Dax says. "But he'll get over it. It's not like this is the first time I've disgraced the family."
"I think Nolan's mad at me."
Dax shakes his head. "He's not. He's just mad—trust me, I've seen him like this before."
"I wish he were here."
He snorts. "Nolan would never."
"I just love him; I miss him. And he would watch."
"True."
"You know, I've been waiting for so long for things to be normal. I forget what it feels like to just exist."
"I wish I could tell you it'll be over soon, but I don't remember what it's like, either. I don't even know if I believe it anymore."
His words cut like a knife to the fucking heart. I hear an anguish and despondence in his voice that's entirely unfamiliar, and it scares the shit out of me.
If Dax has given up, maybe it really is hopeless.
"Hand me that," he says, and I pass him the vodka. "Nolan just feels helpless. It's not a feeling that's easy for him; it's too familiar, you know?"
"Yeah," I whisper, curling up at his side. "But what if he gets tired of the thing that's making him feel that way? What if he decides I'm not worth it?"
"It's not who he is, Saige. You know that."
"I know. I guess I just needed you to say it."
Dax sighs. "I keep forgetting he's gone—I have to remind myself several times every day. It's so fucking weird, isn't it?"
"Who?" I ask. "Elias?"