52. FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-TWO
“It’s okay.” Finn’s voice is warm as he holds me up, stroking the back of my head possessively. “It’s all okay. I love you, bunny. So very much.”
I’m not even crying anymore, silently laying here in fear. But what am I scared of? Him? Or the reality of it all? What is there to go back to? I can’t go back. It’s not even possible.
But I can’t stay here, either. I’m trapped. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place and I really wish I was dead. I wish he never stopped me. I wish he let me fucking die in peace like I wanted. Why couldn’t he just let me die?
“Are you gonna be good?” He asks so sweetly despite the fact his words are dripping with anger. “Or are we going back to the basement tonight?”
“G-Good,” I choke out. “I’ll be good.”
Finn exhales sharply. “I know you will. You always are.”
Wordlessly, I shut my eyes and try to ignore it all. Maybe it’s not the end. Maybe it can be okay, still. He wasn’t lying—at least not about how his dad treated him. Isn’t it okay to kill an abusive piece of shit like that?
Where the hell is the line drawn? How much am I expected to take? Which part of it is worse? The fact he did it, or the fact he hid it for so long? The body was rotting for fuck’s sake. I shudder recalling the first time we visited the patio.
He was there. He was there.
“My mom was a good person,” Finn mutters before burying his face in my shoulder. “She was sweet. She cared. She listened. She was all I had, Dunk. The only person who ever tried to protect me.”
Whining needily, he continues on. “All my life I thought he was being honest. I-I really thought I was just a worthless retard, and that my mom died because she finally gave up on caring for me. But it wasn’t true… it was never true.”
The mental image of young Finn all alone in the world doesn’t sit right with me. How could a little boy be expected to carry the weight of all that? He could’ve ended up so much worse, right?
No, Duncan. Not right. Not right at all. He’s still a killer. Stop trying to justify it. Stop.
“I love you, and you love me. C-Can we please just put this behind us? It’s not… I want you to be happy again, like before.”
But was any of that happiness? Or was it acceptance?
“You killed him,” I start, “but I… I do… I-I do understand, kinda. Hitting you. Hurting you. He did a lot of bad things to you, F-Finn. But… I just… What am I supposed to feel?”
“Nothing. You don’t have to feel anything. I’m still me. I’m your precious boy.”
My heart shatters. “R-Right. My precious boy.”
With a happy whimper, Finn nuzzles into me like all is right in the world again. But it isn’t. I know what I have to do, but fuck—I really don’t want to. I’ve been dancing around it this entire time, but there’s no ignoring it anymore.
I have to escape.
Falling asleep isn’t easy. Not when Finn is clinging to me like I’ll disappear if he lets go, and not when all I can think about is his dad. His father did more than hurl cruel words at him. If Finn is right, and he really did kill his mom… Isn’t it okay? Can it please just be okay?
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and if I don’t get my shit together I’ll be trapped here for the rest of my life. All I want is to go home. I want my cat back. I want my life back.
“Mmh… morning, bunny.” Finn’s sleepy voice doesn’t sound nearly as cute as it did before. “How are you feeling…? Okay?”
“I’m okay,” I lie with ease, “hungry.”
He perks up at that. “You want breakfast? What do you want? A-Anything at all!”
As if I could eat. The thought alone makes me queasy. “Cereal?”
“We don’t have any.”
“Go to the store and get some?”
His expression falls. “Y-You must really think I’m stupid, huh?”
“No,” I try to laugh it off. “Just kidding.”
“You weren’t.”
“Finn—”
“Say it,” he gets off of me and chooses to pin me down to the bed instead. “Say what you think I am. I know you’ve been wanting to say it ever since you met me.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. How could he think that about me? I’d never call him that. Never. “I-I’m not scared, Finn. You’re upset, but… I know you’re still you.”
The way he laughs should be corny, but it’s honestly terrifying. “What if this is me? Would you still love me, then? If I’m just a gross, disgusting, weirdo who’s crazy about you?”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m not.” Finn scoffs. “Now, what do you want for breakfast?”
Shaking my head, I try to push myself up but his grasp is too strong. “I’m not hungry.”
Watching me struggle seems to amuse him, since he’s grinning like a cocky asshole. “You sure?”
“Finn.”
“Okay,” he lets go. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
There’s something terrifying in his eyes, something wild and so unlike his usual self. “Again.”
“I love you, Finn.”
A kiss on my forehead and then he’s off me. As though it’s another regular morning in our perfect life together. The way he lifts me off the bed hurts a bit, but he doesn’t seem to care. The gentle edge is slipping.
“Now,” Finn kisses the top of my head, “what should we do today?”