“I–”
“Move along now, I will bring you lunch shortly,” she interrupts without raising her voice.
My teeth click together as I close my mouth without uttering another syllable.What’s the point?
I limp down the hallway to my room in a huff of frustration. The thumping of my boot echoes off the hallway with every step. Once I hear the gracefulsnickof my closed door, I plop onto the edge of my bed. I run my fingers through my long hair and exhale the frustrated breath I’ve been holding back. Grabbing hold of my pillow, I bury my face into it and scream.
Feeling at least a skosh better, my mind flashes to a pair of brown eyes with sparkles of gold throughout. Adriel.
He dressed and spoke as if he were from a different time entirely.
Perhaps this town fucked him up more than he’s letting on and that’s why he’s isolated himself so far away from everything. And because of that, he’s not used to interacting with other people.
A knot forms in my gut just like every time I think about him. Like there’s something deep down inside of me wanting—needing—to know more about him. Despite all of the aches running through me at the time, it was the first real fresh breath of air I’ve had since my sentencing.
The itch to go out and see him again makes me stand and take a step toward my bedroom door. I pause at my door, hand on the doorknob, and rest my forehead on the cool wood. The sound of Grandma Julia in the kitchen filters down the hallway, and the dull throb coming from my right ankle reminds me that I’m not going anywhere.
I close my eyes so tight until I see the vision of Adriel saying goodbye from a distance. He pointed to my stuff from that spot, refusing to come closer.
Why didn’t he walk me to it?
He seemed so worried at first that I was hurt and yet never moved to help me. In fact, the one time I attempted to touch him, he ducked away from my grasp. Not that I can blame him, we’re practically strangers.
It was the first time I think I’ve ever seen actual fear on someone’s face at the idea of a hug. Which is a little weird.
But then again, so is a witch living in the woods.
And yet, Ihaveto see him again.
If anything, I need answers.
What if that fear pinching in his brows when I reached out to him was placed there because he had been hurt before? A knot behind my sternum draws my right fist up to knead at the ache which forces my attention to the raised scars on my wrist.
The image of the reversed fool card Yasmine pulled flashes to my mind. Recklessness. Perhaps Adriel trusted the wrong person too?
And maybe helping him is that metamorphosis I need to be truly free. Or at the very least it’ll act as a distraction until I can earn my real freedom from the courts.
Standing up straighter, I make a pact with myself that I’ll wait until dark to find him again. I’ll have to wait until after Grandma Julia is no longer keeping an eye on me.
When I didn’t return home on time last night, she called the police. And when I limped in through the backdoor looking like I did, covered in dried blood, dirt, torn clothes, she was furious. Her brows were pinched so tightly, it made her many wrinkles stand out even more. And when she saw me, her mouth dropped open to berate me instantly. I interrupted her before she couldso only a gasp fell from her lips. I lied and told her and the police that I had simply gotten lost in the woods and fallen.
The officer gave me a look after Grandma Julia thanked him for his time, and in that look, I could hear his disdain. Yup, I could hear it in his eyes. They spoke louder than his words ever could. They said, “You are the disappointment we all thought you were.”
I’m the drug-addicted gay boy, born of a Jezebel, that my grandmother took in to save out of the kindness of her heart.
My left fist clenches at my side, enough for my nails to cut into my palm. The pain urges me to direct this frustration outward. Release the building pressure. Further proving I’m the fuck up they all think I am.
Focusing on my breath, I inhale so deep my nostrils flare. On the exhale, I close my eyes and drop my head back. In. Out. In. Out.
The fist against my chest, bunches in my shirt, and bumps against my necklace. The warmth and comforting weight of it finally breaks through the fog. With another large inhale, I feel the blockage break away. The fresh oxygen clears my head and I know lashing out isn’t worth further punishment.
Feeling calmer, I open my eyes and limp to my desk in the far corner of my room. There’s no telling when she’ll be up here to check on me—erm…bring me lunch. Sitting on the high shelf is the heavy gold ring with a blood-red stone mounted in the center Sawyer gave me on the last day I saw him.
When I pick it up, the familiar weight in my palm feels like both a comforting hug and thorned vines wrapping around my heart. My fingers lovingly run over the smooth stone as tears gather along my lower lashes. The image of his grief and pain contorting his handsome face haunt me, even though I’m the one who put it there the night he gave the ring to me. The night I walked away from him.
After my accident, he was the only one to visit me in the hospital. His tear-filled hug assured me that everything was going to be okay. I know now that I was naïve to the shit storm that was coming my way, but in his arms I didn’t care. The following court proceedings were evidence of that, and I knew I couldn’t take him down with me. He was my former British Lit professor, Professor Leopold. So, our relationship was a secret. My life was over, and I refused to make him pay for my poor choices.
I can still remember that night with perfect clarity. The way his arms pulled me in tight, and held me to his warm chest like I was something precious. It was when he slipped the ring off his finger and gave it to me that my barely contained emotions boiled into gut-wrenching sobs. I’d never seen the ring off his finger, which told me just how much I meant to him.
