Chapter 31
Thirty-One
CADE
Blue and black ink stain my hands. It’s all over my knees and my forearms, too.
From where I stand in the center of the room, I’m surrounded by an array of blurry, half-finished paintings— some even on napkins after I ran out of paper.
A pile of cigarettes sits on the windowsill, the humid night doing jack shit to air out the smoke.
The paintbrush falls from my fingers. Sweat drips down my naked chest. My eyelids droop. I don’t know how long I’ve been at it. I’m exhausted, but if I stop…
It’s too late.
I slam my hands over my ears. “Shut up, shut up, shut UP.”
You know what you have to do. You have to finish what I started.
My eyes sting. My teeth chatter. The bile in my empty stomach rises up my esophagus.
“I don’t want to,” I whisper.
It’s the only way.
I’m shaking my head. The room streaks. Hot tears track down my cheeks. Lead weights are attached to my ankles. I fight each step toward the bathroom. I think I’m hyperventilating. I should’ve called Dr. Bedi’s emergency line yesterday. Or maybe it was the day before?
Now, Cade. It’s time.
“No, no, please,” I hear myself whimper as she starts chanting. “I’ll be good. I'll control it better. We don't have to do this.”
Sunt mala quae libas. Nunquam suade mihi vana. Ipse venena bibas!
I open the door—
Suddenly, all I can hear is running water.
Warm, bright light makes me squint. The sink faucet. It’s on. The muscular figure of my stepbrother at the counter comes into focus. A toothbrush sticks out of his mouth. He twists to look at me; a drop of white foam falls onto his firm pec.
His brows knit as he scans me.
I glance in the mirror.
Purple bags hang under my eyes. Shadows emphasize my ribs. My skin is grey and splotched with paint. I look like an animated corpse.
“And that’s being generous,” I snicker.
He spits in the sink and drops his toothbrush. “What is?”
I blink. “Huh?”
Now he looks concerned. “Are you on something?”
A laugh punches out of me. “I wish.”
“You’re not eating again.” He says it like a fact, which it is, but he hasn’t been around to notice.
His jaw ticks when I don’t answer, but really, I’m just soaking in the silence.
The inside of my head has been vacuumed out.
I wait to see if she speaks. She doesn’t.
Never in Sebastian’s presence. A lazy smile tugs at my lips.
“No wonder I like being around you.” Then I realize, he could be in my head, too. That could be why she’s gone— he’s pushed her back into her cell while he takes a turn with me. “I’d rather have you than her, though. She…” I can’t find the words. Fuck, I’m tired. “I hate water.”
He’s gone from concerned to outright alarmed.
Cautiously, he approaches me. “What did you take, Cade?”
It’d be easier to just go with it, tell him I took some shit like shrooms or acid, but then he’ll tell dad (if he’s real), who will tell Dr. Bedi and they’ll toss me in a padded room. It’s not like he’ll believe me anyway.
“Why won’t I believe you?”
Oh no. He’s hearing my thoughts. I did make him up. He’s not real. My windpipe closes. My lungs seize.
Hands grasp my shoulders, strong and grounding. “Hey, hey,” Sebastian hushes, rubbing the tops of my arms. I lock onto his dark eyes. He nods. “That’s it. Breathe for me. I’m right here.”
The pain tries to break through my throat. “How do I know?”
His palm smoothes over my shoulder, sliding up to cup my jaw. I tremble as his thumb gently strokes my cheek. “Feel that?”
My chin dips.
A shaky smile. “Good, good.” His other hand rests over my heart. “And that?”
It hurts. It hurts so much.
“Y-yeah.”
Tears shimmer in his eyes. “That’s me. Here. With you.” I’m choking on fear and agony. My hands come up to cover his. He hooks his thumb around the one on my chest. “I've got you.”
“Seba?” I whisper. He nods again. Then shuffles closer to me. Closer. Holding me.
I haven’t been held like this— purely for comfort— in so long. I’m trying my hardest not to fall into him, but I’m crumbling glass.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs.
I want to tell him everything, but I can’t scare him off. Not when I need him so badly right now.
“I’m so tired.” There are ten-ton weights on my eyelids. I can’t close them, though, or she’ll come and—
“Who is she?”
I stare at our reflection in the mirror. I like the way I look in his arms.
“Stay with me, Cade.”
I need sleep. The longest I’ve stayed awake is four days. But that was years ago. I think. She used to say it would give me clarity.
“My stomach hurts,” I whine.
Sebastian curses under his breath. Then he’s guiding me toward the tub. My heart lurches. I fell for his trap. He’s trying to finish it. I dig my nails into his biceps, my feet skidding on the tile as I try to escape.
“I’ll be good— don’t— please, I’m trying to control it.”
Rough, callused palms frame my face. Coffee brown eyes, warm and safe, are wet and pleading. I’m shaking so hard my skull is rattling.
“Easy, I just wanna clean you up,” he murmurs. “Then we’ll make you something to eat, alright?”
I think my brain just short-circuited.
“I’m not supposed to.”
He makes a choking sound and looks away. “It’ll be our secret.”
I bite my lip. “Ok… but no bath.”
“A shower.”
I shake my head fervently.
He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. Holds it. Slowly exhales. “Will you shower if I go in with you?”
Yeah, this is one hundred percent a hallucination. But at this point, I don’t care because it feels too good to have his full attention. I glance over my shoulder at the shower. I usually can’t stand to be in there for more than five minutes. (I even dry shave.) But if he’s with me…
“Yeah.”
His body relaxes. Without letting go of me, he pulls back the shower curtain and starts the water. I cling to him shamelessly, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He smells like oranges.
He stiffens.
I don’t want to release him. So I don’t.
He coughs. “Your shorts.”
Oh.
Reluctantly, I separate from him enough to shove my boxers down and step out of them. His sleep pants hit the floor, too. I want to see him— all of him. But I know if I do, I won’t be able to stop myself from begging for more of what he won’t give.
Awkwardly, he guides me under the hot stream.
The tiled walls are closing in. It’s way too small in here for both of us.
He's everywhere. Somehow, even surrounded by him, it isn’t enough.
The edges of my vision vignette. The roar of flowing water is starting to sound more like chanting. Breathing is getting difficult again.
“Just focus on me.”
I gaze up at him through wet lashes. Dark hair is plastered to his forehead, rivulets racing down the slope of his nose and collecting in the seam of his lips. Water has never been beautiful to me.
It’s beautiful on him, though.
His touch is tentative as he soaps up my fingers, growing more assured as he works up my wrists, my arms, my neck, down my chest… Averting his eyes, his palms flatten on my stomach. They inch lower.
“You don’t have to,” I croak. Please, touch me. I’m yours.
His grip tightens on my waist. Blood rushes to my cock.
There’s no hiding it. I don’t think I want to either.
Fuck, I’m dying to see him. Instead, I close my eyes and listen to his heavy breathing as it slices through the steam.
Hasty hands massage the paint off my knees before wrapping around to cup my calves.
Something comes to rest on my stomach. Little puffs of air hit my skin.
I crack an eye open.
Sebastian kneels at my feet, his head bowed at my navel as his palms burn up the backs of my legs, stopping mid-thigh. Silently, I beg for his fingertips to leave bruises.
My shaking fingers weave through his soaked hair and hold him against me.
He shudders.
Minutes pass and neither of us moves. We just breathe.
If this isn’t real, I don’t want to live in reality.