24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kat
“Kat. Kat!” I heard from behind me again. It wasn’t great when I was wishing that it was Andrew’s voice. It wasn’t. I picked up the pace, unable to hold in the wince from my hip. I wasn’t doing this.
But I needed to. To get him to go back to his family and have a happy, fun night with them. How this night was always intended to go, if I hadn’t shown up in my stupid sundress and ruined everything.
I couldn’t get my feet to stop moving, though.
His legs were a foot longer than mine, though, and he caught up quickly.
I yelped as I was pulled into an alley, not expecting that in the slightest. I almost toppled over in my damn heels.
I caught myself against the brick wall, though.
With the hand that totally wasn’t now on fire.
“Fuck!” I screeched, and not just from the wrist pain. I turned around to face him, knowing this was going to be much more painful. He stepped toward me, looking wildly worried, but then thought better of it and just rubbed the back of his neck.
“Kat… I-“ he started. I could see from the look on his face that he knew at least some of what had happened. I shook my head.
“No. We’re not doing this. It is your birthday. Go back and spend it with your family. Go be happy,” I begged. He shook his head right back at me.
“If you think I can walk back in there without you and be happy, you’re bloody mental.
I don’t want to speak to my parents right now, let alone spend the evening with them,” he shouted.
I flinched slightly. Just at the volume, because he never, ever yelled.
But the look of pain that crossed his face told me he thought I was afraid of him. I was never afraid of him.
“Henry, please just go,” I said quietly, looking down at my slightly purple toes. He did step in closer to me this time, backing me against the brick wall. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. Showcasing my smeared mascara and flood of tears, as well.
“I’m not going anywhere, Kat. Why won’t you stop pushing me away?” he begged. I shook my head, feeling so very tired, and so very, very sad. I sobbed once, unable to help it.
“Henry, all of the people who love you most in this world are trying to save you from me,” I said as gently as I could. He opened his mouth to argue with me. But I slipped out of his grasp and headed for the entrance of the alley.
“Please, let them.”
His arm blocked my path. I tried to duck under it, but before I could get fully past him, he grabbed me around the middle.
I knew even now he was being careful of my wrist, my shoulder, all the broken parts of me.
I struggled to get out of his grip, knowing he always let me go if he knew I didn’t want to be there.
This time he didn’t.
Instead, he tucked us back into the alley.
I stopped fighting him, because the last thing we needed was pictures of us arguing on the streets of Melbourne splattered across the internet.
He still didn’t let me go, though. I shivered slightly, cursing internally at how much I still craved his warmth.
I wasn’t fucking STRONG enough to do this.
But I had to. I had to save him. If he wouldn’t save himself.
“Kat, I’m getting really, really fucking tired of people trying to make decisions for me.
You included in that. You hate it when people make decisions for you.
Why are you doing it to me?” he asked, sounding just as tired as I felt.
I spun around in his arms, catching him by surprise, and palmed his cheek.
“Because you can’t see the situation clearly. It’s simple,” I whispered, shrugging. He laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. He didn’t let me go, and backed me against the wall again.
Leaning down over me, he softly said, “I am the ONLY bloody one that can see the situation clearly. And it’s NOT simple.
Not a single other person knows what happened to us that night.
And it’s none of their bloody business. They’re not supposed to step in and make decisions for me when I don’t want them to.
They’re supposed to trust MY judgement. That’s part of what loving someone fucking MEANS. ”
I shook my head. It didn’t matter what he said. It didn’t matter what they knew or didn’t know. Twice now in my life, I had been the reason he had been endlessly tortured by a sadistic animal and almost died. I wasn’t about to let the third time be the charm.
“I’m not making the decision for you. I’m making the decision for myself.
I don’t want to do this anymore. Do you think I really want to be treated like this constantly?
I completely get that I have fucked everything up royally.
I get that I’m the goddamn problem. But I don’t need to continually be told that.
I’m done with that. I have to be,” I said, trying to sound firm and just sobbing again instead.
I started to sag in his arms but I couldn’t. I needed to make him understand.
I slipped out of his arms, and he was just stunned enough that he let me. I opened my mouth to speak again, but he cut me off.
“Kat, how can you say that? Not the being done being treated that way, I get that. But why on earth do you think you’ve fucked anything up, or that you’re any sort of problem?
” he asked, his voice cracking. I turned back to look at him, searching his face.
There was zero understanding there. Only confusion.
How could he see things so differently than the rest of us?
“Because I did, and I am. I always have been. You almost DIED, Henry. TWICE. Because of ME. I’m never, EVER letting that fucking happen EVER again. That’s MY choice. MINE,” I said viciously, ignoring the tears and the sobs leaking unbidden out of me.
“No, it fucking ISN’T, Kat. It’s MINE. I made that decision. Willingly. Gladly. Fully informed,” he shouted back. I was shaking my head, hard, making myself slightly dizzy. Fuck, I was so done with this. I just wanted to LEAVE. How could he not understand the impact of what that did to ME?
“I’m so happy you made your own fucking choice there.
Too bad you made me fucking watch!” I yelled back, turning around and walking out of the alley.
I was done. I was done with this conversation, done with feeling this way, and done thinking about that night.
I really, really needed to be done thinking about that night because I was nauseous and the dizziness hadn’t faded.
Like hell I was passing out. Then he’d have to take care of me again. And we’d be back at fucking square one.
Over my dead body.
Too bad I was snagged around the middle AGAIN and manhandled AGAIN, back into the alley.
I refused to look at him. I refused to stop fighting against his grip this time, even as the tears fell harder.
Because I knew if he actually wanted to hang on to me, I was left with no choice.
I sobbed even harder and just stopped. I didn’t care anymore.
He could do whatever he wanted, he couldn’t make me talk to him.
He let me go.
I sank down to sitting in that filthy alley, my dress floating absurdly around me like a parachute. It didn’t slow anything down, though.
I tucked my knees up to my chest, only slightly aware of the fact that I was probably flashing all of Australia. I wrapped my one slightly mobile arm around my knees and just curled in on myself. I had nothing more to say. I felt him sit down next to me, though.
His voice sounded hoarse. “What do you want from me, Kat?” he asked softly. I didn’t know if he meant in this moment or forever, but the answer was the same. There was only one answer I could give. And it wasn’t the truth, but it was what was going to happen.
“Nothing. I want nothing from you,” I whispered, not looking at him. He let out a single laugh.
“Look me in the eye and say that, and maybe I’ll believe you,” he challenged. Fuck that. Fine. If that’s what he wanted, that’s what he’d get. I looked up, trying to keep all emotion from my face, my voice.
“I actually do want something from you,” I said, hating that it made a streak of hope cross his face. It made what I had to say next even more cruel, but too late.
“I want you to just forget about me. Leave me alone, and forget about me. That’s all,” I responded evenly. A sob quickly followed, but I got it out. He actually laughed, again. I was starting to think I had actually broken him, tonight.
“I and fully incapable of leaving you alone, Kat. If that wasn’t already clear.
Even knowing you hate me. And it is bloody impossible for me to forget about you,” he said softly.
I didn’t know what he meant about my hating him, because that was just patently untrue, but if it helped the outcome of this, then so be it.
“You’ll figure it out. And don’t say impossible, it has happened before, after all,” I responded.
He winced, and I knew it was a low blow.
I hadn’t meant it to be. At all. I stood to leave, feeling a little calmer this time around.
Or maybe that was just the encroaching emotional numbness. Who could tell.
But of course, he wouldn’t just let me leave on that note.
“It took getting shot in the bloody head to erase my memory of you last time. Unless you plan on making that happen again, it’s not going to happen,” he stated matter-of-factly. Brutally.
I just walked away.