Chapter 14 Vale
Vale
What the fuck did I just do?
Kicking the bathroom door shut, I flip the light on with my elbow and haul a barely conscious Seth toward the tub.
The walls are blood-red, and for a second, my vision blurs, seeing double, as that red seems to reflect off my fingers.
Dropping Seth unceremoniously into the tub, I turn the shower on, letting it run cold. Hopefully, it’ll shock some life into him so I can get him the fuck out of here and forget this night ever happened.
With a sigh, I scrub my hands down my face and head toward the sink.
I grip the counter, dropping my head, resting all my weight in my clenched fingers. Looking up through my lashes, I take in my reflection. The hard planes of my face. My dark tousled hair. My nearly black irises.
I watch as my jaw works and I narrow my gaze, unable to help myself from remembering the way Aston looked up at me only minutes ago. Wondering what he saw in me to prompt that delicate gulp against the heel of my palm. That flicker in his gaze.
For a split second, he looked almost…scared.
Petrified. Like a cute, ruined little kitten.
So unlike the annoying little shit who’d drugged my boyfriend. The guy who’s made it his mission to provoke me.
He looked like my brother, I realize. Soft. Innocent. The one I remember. The one that came…before.
It’s a lie. An act.
The ends of my vision turn black as memories invade.
Three… four… you better lock the door…
His childish singing echoes, thrashing around my skull.
Please. Pleasepleaseplea—
Images of Rick flash across my mind as I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head. His snarling face. That heavy gut jiggling above his open fly. The grubby hands reaching for my neck, his even grubbier dick swinging about.
My nose flares as disgust and something else, something red-hot, sparks a fire in my chest.
I don’t realize I’ve let go of the sink and pulled out the knife from my pocket—the one I swiped from the bedroom floor where it fell; God knows where he hid it—not until I’ve already broken skin, right over where I cut myself all those years ago on a shard of glass.
Just over the meat of my thumb, I watch as ruby red droplets bubble up from the small nick and fight the urge not to squeeze my hand around the sharp slick metal.
“V-Vale,” a voice whimpers behind me, but I barely hear him.
Not under the blood roaring in my ears.
My mouth ticks up as I glance up, taking in my reflection once more. Dad’s warning from so many weeks ago tumbling through my head.
So much for not poking the beast, I think with a slow shake of my head.
I almost want to laugh at the thought.
Even if worse comes to worst and Aston’s memory is somehow sparked by what just happened…
Would anyone actually believe him? Especially after all these years.
Another plea comes from behind me, this one clearer, louder.
Straightening to my full height, I close the butterfly knife and slip it back in my pocket. Turning, I stride toward the wet, boneless heap in the clawfoot tub and cock my head.
Music pulses through the walls, in time with the steady beat of my heart.
Seth’s blue eyes are bloodshot to hell, pupils no bigger than a pinprick. He’s awake, but he’s still out of it. I turn off the icy water pounding down on him from the showerhead.
Does he remember what happened? I wonder, replaying the scene in the bedroom. Remembering the slitted eyes that stared back as I taunted and made a mess of Aston, unable to look away.
Seth’s head droops as his eyes flutter shut again, but at least he’s able to carry some weight this time when I heave his sopping wet body to a stand.
“Someone’s had a bit too much to drink, huh?” I say.
His little moan tells me he agrees, and I give his cheek a couple pats. A drop of blood from my finger smears across his jaw, turning pink from the chilly water clinging to his face.
Tucking his head to my chest as I wrap an arm around him, I guide him toward the door. His feet drag, but some part of him must be online, making it so I don’t have to pick him up and carry him again. Not that he’s heavy, but my arms are tired.
Hell, my whole body is, now that I’ve satisfied some of my baser needs.
“Cabin Fever” by Corpse starts playing as we make our way down the hall, loud enough to drown out the battle going on in my head.
I get a couple side-eyes and wary smiles, but I’m not too worried. It’s not like they know for certain what happened in that room. It’s not like anyone tried to stop it even if they had heard or suspected something was amiss.
The door wasn’t locked. Someone could’ve come in at any point to see what was going on. Put a stop to it.
Or at least tried to…
But they didn’t.
And it’s not like Seth will remember this night to give any sort of credible account should it even come up.
Just like Aston doesn’t remember what happened all those years ago.
The night I saved his life.
The night I stole his future.
The night I damned us to a lie.
This is what you get for poking first, sugar.