Chapter 15 #4
“No,” he said simply, holding my stare. “I’m sorry if this hurts, to face the truth, to have someone tell you that you’re wrong, to break this curse of lies you’ve let everyone else believe about you. But I will not let you self-destruct alone.”
I screamed, stomping my foot like a child. My breath caught in my lungs and the tears were imminent. I furiously rubbed my eyes with my finger and thumb, forcing myself to not show my weakness.
“I hate you,” I whispered, the lie bitter on my tongue.
“And I still love you.”
I threw my clothes across the room, sucking in some air, willing myself not to reach panic-attack territory. I muttered obscenities under my breath until the lump in my throat was gone and I could breathe again.
“You win,” I muttered, planting my feet. “You win, alright. WITSEC isn’t going to move me. I don’t have to leave town. Now can you go?”
He shook his head, looking rather comfortable laying on top of my unmade bed. I growled in frustration once again and he opened his arms, curling his fingers, beckoning me to join him on the bed.
And I wanted to, like hell I wanted to. Because whatever place I’d found myself in, this was definitely not heaven. It was torture. Having everything I ever wanted in arms reach but be completely aware of how utterly undeserving of it I was, was pure torture.
I guessed it was a good thing I was a masochist.
I dragged my heavy feet to my bed, stiffly laying onto my side, flinching as Enoch rolled me to face him, leaving his arm around my back. He pulled me into his chest.
“I still love you.”
I ground my teeth, fisting my hand in his shirt.
I didn’t know how much time had passed before my muscles started to relax. Before my jaw released and my shoulders dropped, my limbs melting against the warmth of his body.
I was nearly falling asleep when his phone started vibrating in his back pocket.
“Sorry,” he whispered, reaching into it to silence the call. I started to roll away, but he replaced his arm across my shoulders, holding my head to his chest. He breathed deeply and sighed. “You feeling a little bit better? Got it out of your system or you wanna shout some more?”
I cringed and he massaged the base of my skull.
“I…Forgive m—”
“Stop,” he said, shaking his head against mine.
“You don’t need forgiveness for every little thing.
I know…” Enoch chuckled softly, “I know I used to give you shit about apologizing, but it’s okay, Shy.
I know you didn’t mean what you said. I know you were just trying to push me away. So, no need for apologies.”
I sighed, wishing he was right. Wishing the reason I was so obsessed with forgiveness was because of him, but it wasn’t.
“Okay. Um, to answer your question, I don’t feel like shouting anymore.”
“Good,” he muttered. “Were you still wanting to go meet your friends?”
I shrugged, my finger absently tracing the logo on the front of his shirt. “I should.”
“But do you want to?”
“A little bit.”
“Then you should go.” He released me and I pulled myself up to stand from the bed.
“I’m going to shower. Are you heading home now?”
“I’ll leave when you do,” he said, his hand, curling beneath his cheek as he watched me retrieve my clothing items from the floor.
I nodded, unbothered by his lingering presence in my space and walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. I faced away from the mirror as I got undressed. I rarely looked at my own body, even when I was changing or showering. I didn’t need any reminders of how fucked-up it was.
I showered as quickly as possible and got out. I applied some sunscreen to my face and reached for my underwear on the counter with my clean clothes.
“Fuck,” I muttered, sifting through the clothes I had pulled from my closet. I had managed to forget clean underwear and a bra from my dresser.
“Enoch!” I called out from behind the door.
“Yeah?”
“Can you go out into the living room? I forgot to grab some stuff from my dresser.”
There was a moment of silence before he replied. “Okay. I’ll close your bedroom door.”
I waited a moment for him to leave before cracking open the bathroom door.
My shoulders relaxed when I saw that he was gone.
I finished getting dressed and brushed my hair out.
I didn’t want to deal with any tangles, so I used the hair dryer to get it completely dry.
I grabbed a hairbrush and two small elastics before walking out to the living room.
I found Enoch standing in the kitchen, staring at the calendar on the wall.
He spun around with a smile as he took in my new appearance.
“You look hot.”
My cheeks flamed and I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
I focused on braiding my hair as I watched him turn back to the calendar. “Is this…is this the days since your suicide?”
I stared at his back with shock. How the hell did he figure that so quickly?
He eyed me when I didn’t respond, and I shook myself from my stupor. “Y-yeah.”
He nodded, his mouth twisting with thought. “I used to count them too.”
I blinked, hands paused in the section of hair I was braiding.
“I used to count the days I’d lived without you. What I don’t get is why you were counting.”
I cleared my throat, resuming my hand motions as I braided my hair. “After I ‘died’, I started counting the days I had managed to keep living.”
Enoch’s sad eyes held my own for an intense moment of silence, and I had to look away.
I finished my braids and walked to the hooks by the front door where I had my bag and a couple of coats.
I figured I’d need a jacket, especially if we were going to be out there late, but I didn’t want to bring a big bag.
I pulled off a smaller crossbody bag and carried my backpack to the counter.
I started pulling things out that I needed to transfer to the smaller bag and paused when Enoch reached for the bottle of eye drops.
“What’s metha-methex—?”
I cut him off, “Steroid eye drops.”
“Do they help?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Has it gotten any worse?”
“What? The reaction?”
“Yeah. I know if you’re allergic to something, every time you’re exposed it can worsen your reaction.”
“Oh,” I paused to consider the question. “Um, I dunno. I haven’t fully cried in a couple of years. I usually use the drops as a precaution if my eyes ever get watery at all and it seems to work at preventing any major reactions.”
“What about your eyesight? You said that the scar tissue builds up and affects your vision.”
“I don’t know. I only ever got my eyes tested for the first time in like a decade a few years back.”
“So, you got glasses?”
I nodded, pulling out the glasses case from my bag.
“Yeah. I should probably wear them more, but I just hate the feel of them on face. It gives me a headache. But they wouldn’t give me my license without getting glasses.
I couldn’t pass their little eye test they make you do at the DMV.
I could never get used to them and I can see fine up close.
It’s just, like, street signs and stuff I can’t really read.
But, I mean, I just memorize where I need to go and it’s not really a problem. ”
Enoch raised a brow like I was crazy. “Remind me to watch out for you on the road.”
I shoved him and he laughed.
Enoch moved to put the bottle back on the counter but then froze, jerking it back to his face.
“Shiloh,” he drawled, peering up at me from under his lashes. “These expired over a year ago.”
I shrugged, shoving the bottle into my bag. “So? What’re they gonna do, fuck up my eyes? A little too late for that.”
Enoch clicked his tongue, folding his arms across his chest. “Can you not get another prescription?”
I finished packing my bag and looked over at him.
“I’m sure I could if I had health insurance to help pay for a visit with an ophthalmologist.”
“How did you get these then?”
“WITSEC covered it. They had prescribed them to me when I—when I moved to Oklahoma.”
Enoch hummed, nodding and straightening up from his position against the counter.
“Ready?”
I nodded and he smiled, giving me a quick peck on the cheek that made my heart stutter.
“Okay. Let’s go.”