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“You were until you brought up the past.”
She slaps my chest harder, as if to wake me up. “Tell me you feel something, anything that could bring us close, that could make us understand each other.”
“I feel plenty of things,” I retort, frustration growing inside me. “I just can’t relate to what you feel.”
It’s not entirely true. I mainly feel frustration or satisfaction, but I hate when someone points it out. My feelings are very black and white, which makes the situation with her even more complicated. It’s confusing.
“But—”
“Name it.”
“Right now?” she hisses. “I’m pretty fucking angry—”
“Not now. I can read your anger easily. But with me, in general. Name it. How do you feel? Because I told you many times. I explained. I said—” I show my hands, and she pushes me back.
“Yes, your fucking hands were cold and now they’re not.”
“It’s a way to explain,” I say to her back as she walks away and out of the kitchen. I follow her, unable to comprehend how quickly our conversation turned. “You do it if you’re so fucking good at it. Name it.”
She spins around at the bottom of the stairs. “Safe.”
I stop in my tracks, an inch short of bumping into her. “Safe?”
“Yes. As fucking insane as it sounds, when I’m around the man who kidnapped me and forced me to marry him, who leaves bruises on my skin, who forces me to take pleasure in a way I fucking hate, who hurts me…I feel safe.”
A small laugh bubbles out of me, doubling her anger.
“You’re a bastard,” she fumes, turning around to go up the stairs.
“Stockholm syndrome, little sunflower!” I shout as I go after her. “I told you it would happen.”
She closes my bedroom door in my face, but I’m quick to follow her in.
“Kayla,” I call after her as she storms into the bathroom. The door slams, and the lock clicks. I rasp my knuckles against it, pinching back a smile. “Kayla, baby, I’m joking.”
“Fuck you, Nate!”
“Please, open the door. I was just surprised. I…I don’t even know what safe feels like. Maybe that’s how it works?”
“I’m going to kill you!” she shouts, and I can hear her emotions seeping through. How much this has upset her.
“But you just saved me. That would be such a waste.”
“I should have let him shoot you. I would have been free.”
“Please,” I groan, pressing my forehead against the wood.
“Go fuck yourself.”
I try the door again, knowing perfectly well it won’t open. “Don’t make me break this door. Let’s talk.”
“I’m done talking to you.”
But I’m not even close to done. My chest tightens as I let out another groan.
“Kayla I… Look, ‘safe’ took me by surprise. But who am I to judge how you feel next to me when I’m the first one to admit I feel all kinds of fucked up next to you.”
There’s a silence that stretches for long enough, I wonder if she somehow managed to escape.
