Chapter 19 #2
“I know the way you’re critical of your body, when all you want is for someone to hold it without judgment.
” His eyes lock with mine. “Zee, your body is the best thing I’ve ever felt.
.” I stall, unsure of what to say as Atlas keeps his eyes on my face like he’s studying every pore. “Did I scare you?”
Atlas watching me this entire time might be the most romantic thing I’ve felt.
And I know I’m fucked up for it.
“Yeah, you scare me,” I whisper, like I’m afraid to burst this warm bubble around us.“But it’s not for the reasons you think.”
Kon: i missed you in class again is everything okay?
Truth is, things are kinda unreal.
Have I fallen behind on my classes? Yes.
Have I forgotten an assignment or two? Absolutely.
Given who I’ve been playing hooky with, I’m sure I can call in a favour.
That scent of clean citrus comes to my nose before warm, soft lips land on my cheek.
“Tell him if he touches you again, the consequences won’t wait until tomorrow.”
Turning around, I meet those thick lips, those round, deep eyes and the face I’ve been trying to see for what seems like a lifetime.
“Crimson Obsession." He quoted the book. "You read it?”
Atlas is back in his joggers and a t-shirt, placing a large box next to the sink.
“It was on the shelf.” He shrugs, turning around. His eyes rake up my frame, a smile spreading across his face. I've stolen his sweater. It's the only thing I'm wearing, sitting baggy and long over my body. “I like knowing what you like.”
The last few days, this place has finally felt like home. We even moved furniture around so it feels more cozy.
Today’s different. Today’s bigger than that.
Atlas knew I’d be too afraid to go through the rest of my dad’s old stuff alone. I’m not sure what I’d find. So he skipped his classes to help me sort through it.
Moving over to the box, my hand drops to his ass. Firm yet soft. Round yet rigid. “Sure, but what do you like, Sir?”
Atlas is a mystery. One I want to solve.
“You.” With a playful eyeroll, I ignore the burn in my cheeks as I reach into the box. He stops me, his hand coming on top of mine. “It’s your mother’s.”
He’s been pulling up boxes from the closet all morning. I’ve been going through them in the kitchen, VEIL playing in the background with snacks on the counter. All-dressed chips, more berries and cheese.
Reaching into the box, he pulls out a set of gold earrings and holds them to my ear. “I found these in there and think they’d suit you. If it’s not too weird.”
My hand hovers in front of the smooth golden jewelry before I take it. Pulling them to my eyes, I examine the intricate swirls carved into them. They’re heavy, but familiar. Like if I put them on, I’ll be closer to the mother who abandoned my existence.
“Did you know her?” I ask, forcing down the glob building in my throat.
“No.”
“Did you kill her?”
He blinks. “You know I didn’t.”
The question that’s been on my mind surfaces, and before I can ask, he answers.
“I didn’t kill your father, Zee.”
Drips from the kitchen faucet ring loud as I stare into his eyes. They narrow, like he’s trying to read my brain. Can he see the million more questions begging to be asked?
“Did my father watch her, too?” Part of me likes the image of my father being our protector from afar. It mirrors what Atlas does.
“I wish he had.” He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “Is this an interrogation? Or an interview?”
“Do you always watch before you … strike?” Kill, I mean kill, but I can’t bring myself to say it.
“Never as much as I watched you.”
“So you admit it, you’ve killed before.”
“Is that a question or a statement?” His head tilts slightly.
“Both.”
“Would you tell me if I asked you?”
My stomach twists, the room shifting.
Those moments flash through my mind, my mouth opening and closing like I have an answer, but I don’t.
Does he know?
I steady my stance and ask my next burning question. “How many?”
“You don’t want me to answer that.”
Heat builds in my chest, my fist clenching. “Can you ever just answer a question?"
“Can you?”
I slap my hands against my sides. “Okay, yeah, fine, I killed someone.”
My heart stills.
Drip!
Silence fills the room, my eyes fixed on him.
Did I really say that?
As always, he's patient and unmoving. He stands there, no judgment on his face, no fear in his eyes.
“I-It wasn’t on purpose,” I stammer. “They were hurting people. They hurt women. They wouldn’t stop if I didn't make them.”
My fists clench as the room blurs around me, memories flashing in my mind.
Not once.
Twice.
The time in foster care when I walked in on my brother with his dick out and his hand over my sister’s mouth. The look he had. The determination.
Or the time when I came home to find my mom weeping on broken glass, a gash across her face, while her boyfriend raised a shard to her neck.
My fists tighten. “They would’ve raped them. They would've killed them." My speech picks up, my entire body hot and sweaty. "Each fucking time, they would’ve ruined their lives because these women dared to disobey a man. And they really didn’t—”
“Deserve that.” Atlas finishes my shaky sentence, his hands coming to my arms. He finds my eyes. “They didn’t, Zee. Some men don’t deserve to live.”
His last words flip my stomach.
Why would you confess that?
You’re both going to jail.
If he doesn’t kill you.
Maybe you should kill him.
Kill yourself?
Kill yourself!
The flashes from my past mix with my words as the world falls apart around me.
“Zee?” Atlas tries to find my eyes, but I don’t see him anymore.
Mo's right.
I need to stay medicated.
I shouldn't have stopped.
“I-I haven’t taken my pills.”
My body tingles like a million ants are crawling under my skin.
You’re unstable.
You’re a problem.
It’s all your fault.
“Hey, look at me.”
“I-I need my meds.” I try to push off his chest, but his grip on my shoulders tightens.
“You don’t need them.” He finds my gaze again. “What you’re experiencing is normal. You’re not the problem, Zee. To those women, you were the solution, do you hear me? Those men deserved to meet the penalty of being abhorrent, vile humans.”
“Is that what you think of me?” His eyes narrow. “Am I your current target?”
His eyes dart around my face. “Zee, it’s complicated. I—”
“Un-complicate it. Or just fucking do it.”
“Zee, breathe.”
I can’t..
“Zee, don’t.”
He reads me like a book in large print, but I don’t care. With my hands on his chest, he lets me push him away.
Then I bolt for the door.