Chapter 40
Forty
Noah
As we step into the penthouse, the foreboding feeling gets stronger and stronger, putting me on edge.
Henry’s warning keeps ringing in my ears until my breathing turns ragged. I put down Millie as she skitters away, and I rush into the restroom.
Andie’s hurried steps follow me, but I don’t want her to see me like this, broken and scared. All it took was coming face-to-face with him once for my dormant fear to come back with a vengeance.
The second I’m inside, I shut the door behind me. Panicked, she bangs on the door, pleading with me to open it and come outside. But I can’t let her see me like this, not when I’m back to being the scared and tortured little kid who took what he got without ever fighting back.
I toss my cap, followed by the shirt that’s restricting my breathing. Turning on the faucet, I splash water over my face until I feel the burning sensation go down.
Splaying my hands over the slab, I let my head fall between my shoulders, my upper body dripping as I try to normalize my ragged breathing and racing heart rate.
Andie’s muffled voices through the door cease after a few minutes, and hurting her hurts me. But I need a second to get my bearings before I confront her with whatever’s left of my dignity intact.
My eyes flick to my reflection in the mirror, dotted with liquid droplets as they slide down the surface, giving in to gravity.
All I see is a terrified man who let his past overrule his senses.
If Andie hadn’t been there, I might’ve let him talk me into giving him more money, let him curse me for as long as his energy lasted.
That’s how pathetic I am.
The jagged skins of my scars flare with a phantom ache, each of them reminding me just how much of a loser I am.
This month, after I shared about what a leech my parents are, my therapist advised me to report them to the police.
And as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t do it.
Maybe it’s the blood we share that held me back, or the hope that they’d finally see that I’m someone they could be proud of, or maybe I was just fucking scared to face the monsters of my childhood.
But I did cut them off. If I wanted a life with Andie, I needed to let them go; I needed to create a safe space for her in all the ways that mattered. Otherwise, if something were to happen to her because of me, I’d literally die.
My eyes practically bug out of their sockets when the thought that after today, she might leave me slams into my mind at a supersonic speed, obliterating every dream I’ve had for our future into smithereens.
She should. You’re worth nothing, you pathetic loser. My mind chimes, the sound I hadn’t heard in a while.
No, shut up! I’m not a loser! I’m not pathetic! I scream at it, my eyes scrunching in pain.
Even your parents couldn’t love you, it replies.
Because they’re monsters!
Are you sure you’re not the monster who ruined their lives by being born?
I clutch my hair, holding in the scream as I stumble back into the wall, my legs giving out.
I practice the technique my therapist taught. Deeply inhaling for four seconds through my nose, I hold it in for three, and let it out of my mouth for two. I continue to do this rhythmic exercise until I feel myself calm down and don’t feel like I want to swallow a bottle of painkillers.
The calm is short-lived because the incessant vibration of my phone has me pulling it out of my back pocket. What I see on the device makes the blood in my veins run cold as I feel it draining from my face, my breathing ceasing entirely.
The phone in my hand trembles as one by one, photos of Andie and me materialize in front of me. They spanned over months, a few weeks after we agreed to the deal. In most of them, it’s clearly identifiable who the subjects are.
There are images of us at the bar, at the beach, taking a walk at night. There are also images of only Andie as she goes about her daily life, of her at her school, meeting her friends, and everything in between, and that makes my stomach curdle, and bile rise to my throat.
A text from Henry pops up.
If you know what’s best for you and her, I suggest you leave that bitch and never talk to me like that ever again.
Before I can even process it, another one comes.
You see, I owe a little debt to some very bad people, people who would let me go for this fine piece of ass, if you catch my drift. Or I can sell these images to get the money you keep denying me.
The choice is yours. If I don’t see the money in my account by tomorrow morning, I’ll know your answer.
I don’t reply. These pictures, messages, and ultimatum making me physically sick as I crawl to my hands and feet and puke my guts into the toilet, my stomach retching as I heave.
Andie bangs the door once she hears my voice, her cries eating me alive. After a few moments, my stomach settles down, and I flush the toilet.
I did it.
I put her in danger.
What was I thinking? That I could be happy. That I could have someone like Andie in my life and not pay the price.
Here I was thinking of confessing to her, building a family with her, a future with her mere minutes ago.
But at what cost? Her safety and dignity?
Horror washes over me.
What have I done?
If Ezra found out, he’ll bury me alive. Honestly, that would be the best course of action if I want to keep her safe.
Henry and those low-life men I know he deals with will stop at nothing to get what they want. And if I don’t do as he says, I may very well sign her death warrant.
Panic seeps into my bones at the thought of any harm coming to her. Whether it be her name dragged through the mud, or the men Henry owes…
I can’t even finish the horrendous thought.
I know what I need to.
I need to let the love of my life go.