Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Mr. X began humming as he made his way down the hall toward my room. I worked quickly to untie my other wrist as I listened to him getting closer. Once my other hand was free, I glanced down at my tied ankles. I wouldn’t be able to untie them in time. Panicked, I searched around. There was a pen on my nightstand. I reached for it. My fingers were barely able to roll it close enough to scoop it into my hand.
Moving as fast as I could, I wrapped the rope back around each wrist, praying that he wouldn’t notice that they weren’t tied. I hid the pen in my clenched fist behind the taut rope. My gaze went back to the doorway just in time to see Shayla’s feet slide away.
My hand that wasn’t holding the pen squeezed around the rope so tightly it was painful. I needed that pain. I needed it to be worse than the fear that was threatening to paralyze me.
Mr. X stepped into view. Only he wasn’t alone. He was holding Shayla’s limp body against him with an arm around her waist and his hand held one of hers. Then he waltzed into my room, quite literally. Still humming, he spun around—dancing with her lifeless body. As he dipped her, he said, “Your sister always was the attention whore.” He stood straight and stared down at Shayla, whose head flopped around like a newborn baby’s. “Even though you two are identical, you couldn’t be more different.” He spun around again, swinging Shayla with him. “She flaunted herself about, gobbling up every ounce of attention she got like a greedy, spoiled princess. She may have been beautiful on the outside, but her soul was ugly.” He tossed Shayla’s body to the ground and his eyes flicked to me. “You, however, are perfection. Inside and out. You don’t have to flaunt anything. Your soul radiates a genuine and pure light. It calls to me.” He walked over to my bed. Eyes never leaving mine, he brought his knee up onto the mattress. “Your innocence draws me in like a moth to a flame,” he said as he crawled over me until he was straddling my hips. His hands cupped my face. “I covet that innocence.” His hands moved down and around my neck. “I want it so bad…” He squeezed. “I almost want to destroy it.”
He cut off my air completely. Panic surged through me, taking over. I thrashed and bucked beneath him, almost forgetting that my hands were free. I quickly worked to unravel them.
“You are mine, Shiloh. No one can take you from me now,” he growled as he continued to choke me.
I got the rope off my hand holding the pen. Do it! Do it now! I screamed internally. Fisting the pen in my hand, I swung it. I stabbed the pen through his cheek.
“AH!” he screamed, rolling off of me and off the bed. He hit the ground with a loud thump that shook my room. I didn’t waste any time and started untying the rope around my ankles. I got one untied pretty quickly, then jumped to the next one. He groaned loudly and crawled toward the bathroom connected to my room.
As soon as I had my last ankle untied, I quickly clambered off my bed. I jumped over Shayla’s body and ran for the door. I was caught by my foot and fell forward. The moment I hit the ground, I was dragged back.
I woke, gasping.
Hands framed my face. “Shiloh,” a voice barked firmly, capturing my attention.
Looking up, I saw Knox above me, and I felt relieved.
“You’re alright,” he said.
I pushed on his chest, needing space. He sat back on his haunches and I sat up against the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest. “They're never going to go away.”
His hard expression softened. “Only you have the ability to make them go away, Shiloh.”
I knew where he was going with that and I didn’t want to hear it. I climbed off the bed and grabbed my shorts from the dresser.
“You only slept five hours,” Knox said, climbing off the bed. “You need to sleep more than that.”
I yanked my shorts up my legs and buttoned them. “No.”
“Shiloh,” he grumbled.
I ignored him and stormed toward the door.
As I was walking down the hall, toward the living room, Knox’s angry voice sounded right behind me. “What’s the plan, then? Go another week refusing to fucking sleep?”
“Hey, now,” Keelan said, walking into the living room from the dining room. He appeared a little surprised as he looked from me to Knox behind me.
“How I choose to deal is my business,” I snapped over my shoulder.
My wrist was grabbed, and I was yanked around. Knox stared down at me with fury burning in his eyes. “That’s the thing. You aren’t dealing with anything.”
I yanked my wrist free.
“You’re spiraling, Shiloh. If you don’t fucking admit it and let us help you, we’re done,” Knox said.
His threat almost knocked me off my feet.
“You don’t get to decide that for us,” I heard Creed snap. I glanced across the room and saw him and Colt standing by the hall that led to their side of the house.
I looked back at Knox. His angry gaze was fixed on me. “I will not sit back and watch you hurt my brothers because you refuse to help yourself.”
I stumbled back a step. His words really did feel like physical blows to my soul.
He was right. I was hurting them. I’d seen it this morning when I’d heard the pain in Colt’s voice.
I was hurting them because I was a coward.
I deserved this.
Creed argued with Knox. I could see them shouting back and forth at each other, but I couldn’t hear them. Not over the booming in my ears. My feet numbly moved away from them. I grabbed my keys from the bowl and walked out the door. I felt a little bit of pain under my bare feet as I walked home, but it was the tightness in my chest that held most of my attention. It was so tight, I couldn’t pull enough air into my lungs. Pressure began to pulsate behind my eyes and face, making me feel dizzy.
My legs gave out on me just as I reached the steps of my porch. Down I went and I smacked my head on the bottom step. The pain shocked me—shocked my lungs open, and I was able to suck in air with a long gasp. I brought my hand to my temple as I pushed myself back to my feet. I felt a tear in my skin. I pulled my hand away and something wet rolled down the side of my face and down my neck. I looked at my hand. It was covered in blood.
I went up the steps and unlocked the door. I struggled for a second getting the door open. My bloody hand kept slipping around the knob. Once inside, I disarmed and rearmed the alarm, my bloody fingers leaving smeared prints on the keys. Blood dripped off my face onto the wood floor by my toes.
I stared at the dots, wondering if this was all I was ever going to know. Blood and never-ending pain. If so, I didn’t want to do this anymore.
Why had I fought so hard?
I couldn’t remember the reason, or the strength I’d conjured that night.
Where had it gone?
My chest became tight again.
I was scared.
I needed my mom.
I ran to my bedroom and ripped open my closet. I crawled all the way to the back corner, under a section of hanging clothes. I brought my knees to my chest and I gave up.