Chapter 19 Olivia #2
I hate that he’s right. I know I’ve never been anything but his.
Even when all I wanted to do was erase him from my memory, to forget about him in any capacity.
But no matter how fucking hard I tried, traces of him remained stitched into my heart and my head.
But how can I still feel like I belong to someone who clearly left me behind?
How can that still be the case if all he wants is to tear me down with the brutality of his fury, dead set on driving me to insanity, or so it seems.
“I’ve come back for you, Olivia. And I’m not leaving until I’ve disenthralled your mind of doubt. Till you’re liberated and yet, so inevitably branded by me.” He continues his gesture of caressing my temple, moving his finger down my cheek as he avows to me in a throaty timbre.
It’s the first time he’s really spoken to me in a calmness that doesn’t sound like he’s intending to hurt me, but I still hate that I’m not understanding what he’s trying to say.
This is pointless. I know he’ll never tell me what I want to know and I realize that wasting my time trying to figure him out is only going to make it worse for me in the end.
My focus is on the wrong thing right now, just like he said.
He’s distracting me. But really, would I have even come if I knew there wasn’t a chance I’d see him?
I want to find closure for the deaths of my brother and my best friend, sure.
And I realize that I might not get what I came here for.
Instead, I could leave with a few more memories than I came with and it still might not be enough.
But now I can sense that Trace might know something more than he’s letting on and it does intrigue me, but I’m starting to understand that maybe the hole in my heart, the void I crave to fill most, is because of him.
I hate knowing that I might care about him, about what he did and what he’s doing to me now, more than I care to face my grief.
But I needed him back then and he wasn’t there for me and I have to know why.
Even right now, I need him. Even if this is the only way he’ll let me have him.
But I’m not sure I’m ready to admit that this is who I am.
This is what I want. And even if he did let me back in and I was able to forgive him, even if he gave me a chance to try and fix whatever he thinks I did wrong, will we ever be the same?
Maybe we’re different for better reasons now and maybe all of this chasing and bullying, guarded by the shadows of our pasts, is who we’ve become.
Maybe this is who we’ve always meant to be.
But it’s not good enough. I need more.
I don’t say a word. I drop my arms and turn to walk away but, of course, he stops me.
“Do not fucking walk away from me,” he growls, reaching out and snatching me up by the back of my neck.
Every bone in my body feels like an icicle as my blood boils with fury. I crave his touch, but it's starting to drive me mad. Like I’m losing a piece of my mind every time he’s near. Or maybe I’m gaining it back.
He lets go of me and I turn around on my own accord. Facing him one more. This time, he looks pissed, like he could rip me to shreds with the sharp glare of his eyes alone.
I hold my palm out to him.
“Okay. Then I want my pills back. I know you took them.”
He rolls his eyes at me as an annoyed grin takes up his face.
“Those pills are trash, Olivia. You don’t need them. You think you do, but they’ll only make you unstable and the last thing you need is finding something else to get addicted to.” He turns back around to face me, lowering his voice. “Besides, those pills are not what you think they are.”
“What the hell are you even talking about? And why the hell are you taking such great pleasure in causing me pain?”
“Correction. Not just your pain. Others’ too. Though I’ll admit…” He stalks up to me. “I haven’t fucked myself to anyone else's pain except for yours.”
“Oh, I fucking bet.” I let out a sarcastic giggle. “You like to spy on me, don’t you? How many times have you fucked yourself while watching me, huh?”
“Too many times to be considered healthy, Olivia. And I come hard. Every. Fucking. Time.”
His admission hits me in a nefarious way.
I ache all over, needing him to just fucking take me or leave me the hell alone.
My mind is too fucked up to register anything properly, but the only thing I can pinpoint with precision is that fact that I can feel him all over my body and it’s consuming every ounce of common sense I have left.
“Cut the fucking crap, Trace.” I shake my hand out again, forcing myself to regain composure. “Just give me the pills.”
“Sure. You’ll just have to get on your knees and find where I dropped them.” A wicked grin grows on his stupidly attractive face and all I want to do is scream at him. Why the fuck is he being so goddamn cruel?
“What is wrong with you? You have no idea what I need them for,” I say, trying to sound a little more sincere rather than demanding.
Trace steps back up to me, using his finger to pull my chin up. I don’t fight him, frozen to my body’s need to surrender. I watch as his eyes observe my face, watching the way I breath with fervent need before he speaks.
“Olivia, be honest with yourself. You know those pills only cause you more anxiety than you need, but you use them as a false escape. Something you can pretend is protecting you. Newsflash, I see the way they affect you when you fall asleep. It all catches up to you and bleeds into your reality. And maybe when you’re ready to face that reality, you’ll open your eyes to the fact that the people who claim to love you, are the ones feeding into this fucked up version of you. ”
He drops my chin, before turning around to walk away.
“What do you mean?” I ask, now feeling sick with the weight of his words. Is he right? Does he really know what he’s talking about?
“Those pills, Olivia. They’re not anxiety meds. And they aren’t your fucking father’s.” He turns up to look at me, and while he’s speaking with aggression, his eyes hold pity. Sympathy. Concern.
But I don’t know what to make of what he’s saying, my brows arched with confusion and worry as I feel my breathing start to race.
“Trace, what do you mean?” I beg, reaching out for his hand but he pulls it away.
I try to rack my brain for something that makes sense. The pills aren’t my dad’s? What the fuck would he even know about that? How could he know about…
I see the way they affect you when you fall asleep.
No.
“Trace!” I shout, stopping him in his tracks. “What do you mean you see the way they affect me when I sleep?”
The air falls silent around us, light rain coming down in the light glow of the sun as we stand a few feet apart.
“Trace, please,” I beg. Needing to know what he means. I need him to give me something to go off of.
Finally, I see his shoulders drop, but he keeps his back to me when he answers.
“Your nightmares.” His tone sounds like it’s grounded in sorrow but layered with anger.
I dip my head, confusion breeding in my brain. My nightmares…
And then it hits me.
I look at him, seeing that he’s turned back around and now he’s facing me. His eyes set with a hungry desire, his jaw ticking as he waits for me to put the pieces together.
“You." Something folds in my gut; not quite sure if it’s from feeling indebted to what I’m assuming he’s done or from despising him for infiltrating my mind in an intimate and intrusive way.
But regardless, my heart feels heavy thinking about what he may or may not know about my nightmares. And what he may or may not have done.
“Some nights, when I watch you-” His voice sinks into my veins, stoking a fire created by betrayal and safety to heat me up.
“No,” I interrupt him as he takes a step closer.
“I see you struggle in your sleep.”
I shake my head and take a step back, but he only follows me.
“The only way I know how to help you get out of them is to touch you.”
A tear falls down my face, creating an icy trail where the cold air brushes against my skin. Trace keeps his voice low as we both take another step; me backward and him forward.
“I don’t know what is it you dream of, but I know that it’s torturing you, Olivia, and only I know how to make it all stop.
” His words sound sincere, his voice is low and calm.
Almost just as I remember it before he showed up here hell-bent on making me suffer for something I seem to be clueless to.
I finally find myself backing into the trunk of a tree, my eyes not leaving his as I watch him stalk inward, closing in on me.
Even though his words seem to reflect a brief feeling of peace and understanding, he still seems to carry himself with this unruly demeanor; a relentless attempt to cause me pain and fear.
My breathing pattern quickens as he gets closer, so close I can feel the warmth of his body as it takes over mine. I don’t know what to expect out of him right now. But as he steps up to me, it’s pretty clear that no matter what, he’s still demanding control.
I close my eyes, feeling my whole body react to his presence. So close. So fucking close that it causes everything to expand and shrink all at the same time. Like a flower blooming and withering all in the same moment.
Keeping my eyes closed, I wait patiently for him to do something. I can’t even be sure he’s still in front of me though, as the only thing I can hear is the heavy drumming of my heartbeat.
But then he touches me.
A single finger pressing gently into my temple. I gasp as he slides down and moves behind my ear. As his finger rolls down, slowly tracing a trail down, I realize the familiarity of his movements.
My lips part and I open my eyes. I can tell. The intention behind his movement and the intense focus on what he’s doing . . . it’s been him all along.