My breath stuttered. I froze.
I remembered Colorado. The stink of blood and mildew, the cage, the shadow pacing outside the bars, voice like knives. And suddenly the bathroom was just another cell. Just another place to die.
Blake’s reflection moved. It lunged. Black arms reaching.
I screamed so loud the world cracked.
I didn’t even realize that the bathroom door had swung open until I felt a pair of arms around me.
“Amelia! What the fuck happened?” Caiden’s voice rang through the air, and I opened my eyes.
The water was still running, and Blake was no longer standing there. My eyes darted around the room, finding only white tiles and Caiden’s concerned face.
He caught me before I hit the ground. My body didn’t know how to stop shaking. He wrapped me up, arms locked around my ribs. My face buried in his shirt, breath ragged.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, still shaking.
He shifted, squeezing harder, voice rough and pissed. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, tried again. “Saw him. I saw him in the fucking mirror.”
He stilled. “Who?”
“Blake. He…he looked at me. Like he was here.”
The tremble in my voice disgusted me.
Caiden’s jaw clenched. “He’s not. Christ, Amelia. He’s gone. Dead.”
I bristled, tears burning. “I know that. But I can’t stop seeing him. I can’t?—”
He pulled away, hands gripping my shoulders. “You need to get a grip. Blake can’t hurt you now. You hear me?”
I shook, anger flaring hot under my skin. “You don’t get it. He’s in my head. You think I want this?”
He made a sound. Raw, impatient. “If you want the nightmares to stop, stop feeding them. He’s gone. Move on.”
Bile rose in my throat. “You’re such an asshole. You can’t just come in here acting like a hero after what happened the other night,” I spat.
He scoffed at my comment. “You know what? I shouldn’t have even come over here. I volunteered to check on you. You obviously don’t fucking appreciate any help.”
I crossed my arms and raised my chin, a defiant challenge, staring him down. “I don’t appreciate being invalidated. I know what I saw.”
He shook his head in irritation, mumbling under his breath, then looked at me once more. “Yeah. Okay. I’m sure you did see something, but he’s gone, Amelia. He can’t fucking hurt you,”he hesitated, before stepping closer, staring at me with a deadly glint in his eyes. “Believe me, if someone did try to hurt you the way he did, I’ll fucking kill them.”
Once the words left his mouth, he backed away, holding my stare, then turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
I slid to the floor, back against the tile, hands shaking.
The anger wilted fast. What replaced it was worse. Hollow. Lonely.
I stared at the space where Blake’s face had been. Still felt the emptiness sucking at me, pulling me down.
Maybe that was the only thing that would ever make sense. The ghost of violence, the echo of his hands, the voice that told me I’d never be safe.
I pressed my forehead to my knees, shivering.
Even when the screaming stopped, the silence was a thousand times worse.
