Ember
The gauze was too tight but I liked it. Every pulse of pain I felt reminded me that this was all very real, and very much happening to me.
In the last hour, that’s all I had focused on—what was unfolding right in front of me.
Each moment felt like a new form of chaos, and it was like I couldn't keep up with everything I felt.
At first it was anger, then fear. When Silas fucked me in the car, it was pure desire.
That was why I had listened to him, and stayed.
Hell, maybe I was the delusional one.
If one thing was for sure, it was that I hadn’t made my mind up on Silas yet. Every time I thought that I had enough to walk away from him, I couldn’t. Something made me stay, and now, he had opened up to me.
My palms itched from all the contradictions forming in my head. I decided to calm the sensation by slamming them against the desk behind me. I swore I saw him flinch from the impact as the sound echoed through his office. My words were raw as I continued, “Just tell me what you want from me.”
For a second, he didn’t move. Then he lifted his hand and I expected some form of punishment or retaliation for my outburst. Flinching, I brought my hands up to my face as my shoulders hunched.
I ready myself for the pain, for the proof that I was right about him all along.
Just as I thought it was coming, he didn’t strike me—his hand only moved up and to his head.
Slowly, his fingers pulled at the buckle that kept the mask he wore secured to his face.
As he pulled on one side, the plastic slid off and hit the floor between us.
He'd just broken his very first rule, for me.
I stared into the icy blue eyes that met mine.
They weren’t empty or cruel, like I had imagined.
If anything, there was a quiet sadness in them that pulled me in—an emptiness I couldn't explain.
Like his eyes, all of Silas's features were strong.
I stopped myself from reaching out, from trailing his jawline.
It was almost like he registered this, as his face slightly softened.
I had never thought about the way he might look at me, but it was magnetic.
His stare was so intense, like he saw through me, all of me.
My eyes wandered over his slightly tanned skin before moving to his dark hair.
Slightly longer than what I had pictured, the strands fell forward in a slightly messy way.
None of it was styled, more chaotic and unruly.
Stepping closer to him, I realized that I’ve never truly tried to picture him. I’d only ever thought of his mask.
I had to look away, to remind myself that the man in front of me was not what he seemed. But as soon as I broke eye contact, it was like he was in my head again.
“Ember.”
My name on his lips was soft, almost gentle. As I dragged my eyes back up to his, it was like my mind ruptured and everything bubbled to the surface. I had no idea what to do, or how to feel but I couldn't look at him anymore, I just couldn't.
A fresh wave of rage exploded through me, almost like a default setting within my body.
Before I knew it, I was moving. My hands shoved into his chest, hard.
“You can't just do this!” I pushed him again, harder this time. “I get to make the choices.” He rocked back half a step but didn’t raise his hands, which only made me angrier.
When I spoke again, I was screaming. “I want out of whatever the hell this is.”
There was no reaction from him whatsoever. He didn’t block me. He didn’t even speak. He just watched me as a look of understanding filled his eyes. That sympathetic expression shattered what was left inside of me.
I hit harder, balling my fists and putting my full strength into the swings.
When that earned no reaction, I tore his shirt down the middle and slapped my palms against his bare chest before scratching down the exposed skin.
I didn’t hold anything back. I wanted him to react to this.
I needed him to grab me, to push me—anything to prove to myself that I was right about him, that I couldn’t trust him.
And yet his arms just hung there, right at his sides—which only made me more frantic.
I shifted my stance and my foot caught on an extension cord coiled beside his desk.
As a last ditch resort, I picked it up before he could stop me.
Moving without thinking, I wrapped it around his neck and pulled with everything I had.
I could see an immediate change in his face as the cord dug into his skin. I twisted and squeezed, refusing to stop until he showed his true self. Veins bulged in his eyes and neck as his body reacted, but even then, he didn't fight back.
Silas refused to push me away, even as his face drained of color.
“Do something!” I screamed at him. “Fight back! Hurt me!”
The blue color within his eyes started to stand out against the bloodshot white around them. “N-no.”
My grip on him weakened as the cord slipped through my fingers.
I let go and the tool thudded against the ground as it fell between us.
Silas sucked in a sharp breath, his chest expanding hard as air rushed back into his lungs.
Tears flooded my vision again as I looked up at his chest. Thin rivulets of blood now trailed down his skin from the scratches I had left, weaving over the tattoo I hadn't even noticed.
An intricate design, similiar to dark lace covered half his chest and both of his arms. The art was simple, but stunning, and now it was ruined, by me.
I wasn't any better than him and I didn't understand him at all.
I felt the exact moment my knees gave out and I dropped to the floor in front of him. I pressed my palms to my head like I could hold the pieces of my mind together. Not even that worked, and I was left in a broken pile of myself.
After a moment, I heard him move and realized he was lowering himself down next to me.
We sat like that for a few minutes, but my breathing kept escalating.
Silas lifted his hand but then stopped. “Can I touch you?” His voice is rough, almost strained.
I didn’t say yes, but I didn't deny him the opportunity either. Soon, I felt his fingers graze the back of my arm. The pressure was light, but I knew he was testing me. When I didn’t immediately jerk away, he shifted closer and pulled me into his lap.
One second I was on the floor. The next, I was in his arms and against his warm chest. My body relaxed enough for me to breathe deeply, and I inhaled his cologne, the same scent that clung to the jacket that I found in my room.
I closed my eyes and mimicked his breathing as he held me.
His grip on me eventually loosened, as if he knew I would hate being caged in.
The feeling provided just enough stability for my pieces to come back together.
When I opened my eyes, I traced my fingers against the tattooed lace of his chest. I didn't expect any reaction, but his body answered to my touch and goosebumps broke out across his skin as he shivered.
I watched them move as my eyes became heavy.
The last thing I felt before sleep claimed me, was the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek, and the unsettling realization that I might be in love with him.