Page 124 of Grace

I sit in the corner, naked. It didn’t take long to find myself back in the beast’s dark belly. As soon as that wonderful feeling passed and desire loosened its grip on me, the image of him—his face, his eyes, his infinitely dark soul—snapped into crystal clarity.

How could I fall in love with him?

How can I still love him?

This love is spitting in the face of the people I loved.

Mom, Dad, Jamie, Nikky…

I fill the bathtub with hot water and sink into it. These might be the longest, most painful minutes of my life, but…

Forgive me, Cyrus.

My lungs burn. I need air—everything in my body is begging me to sit up and drag in a deep breath. I squeeze my eyes and lips shut. I will not come up. My ears ring; my head grows heavy. I’m only seconds from death when I black out. And all the suffering drains out of my soul.

You were the bait.

You were the bait.

You were the bait.

My body shakes. Behind my closed eyes, dark shapes slide through the murky water. Chase grabs my shoulder. The water sloshes like the sea as he yanks me out of the bathtub, splattering across the cheap floor tiles.

My brain hums, dazed. A cold, fresh draft brushes my skin. There’s no water in my nose—I can breathe—and my body reacts instantly: I gulp air, frantic. My nipples harden.

“Why?” I moan, coughing up water. Chase doesn’t answer. He wraps me in a soft towel and leads me out of the bathroom. My steps are clumsy, and my vision blurs, black-and-white spots flashing in front of my eyes. The objects around me seem to melt into one another, swaying in waves. My head is like a beehive with a thousand angry bees.

He makes me sit on the edge of the bed. I stare into his face, a tapestry of conflicting emotions—Chase looks like he’s fighting the biggest battle of his life against himself. His desperation and anger fill the room. His rage throbs in the air, and his sadness tastes sour. An icy ache spreads through my chest as soon as I come to my senses. Chase’s touch hurts. It’s like a wasp sting: it makes my skin itch and burn.

“No!” I snap. “Don’t touch me!”

He gets his feet so fast it makes me dizzy. I almost fall off the bed. He grabs me and makes me sit farther from the edge. My stomach lurches, and bitter bile rises in my throat.

“I’m gonna throw up.” I clasp my hand over my mouth. Chase dumps the trash on the floor and shoves the bin into my hands, then gathers my wet hair into a ponytail and rubs my back while I cough up stinking, sticky yellow bile. The smell makes me heave again. The strain draws tears down my face. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and inhale. Chase takes the bin away and comes back with a pill and a glass of water.

“You want to drug me?” I ask, acid in my voice.

His eyes flash with cold, threatening fury. I sit hunched on the bed, taking the pill and the glass of water with a careless motion. The water cools my raw throat after I swallow the bitter pill.

“It’ll just help you calm down a little.”

My mouth slits open—I want to jam two fingers down my throat and bring the pill back up. But I hate vomiting.

“Did you just drug me?”

“For your sake. This is your second suicide attempt.”

I grimace.

I’d love to throw accusations at him, but ripping into him would accomplish nothing. Chase knows the sins he’s committed, just as I know mine. Nikky’s resentment was partly my fault. I sinned when I stole that photograph—though she was a piece of work, too. No one forced her to steal the dope from Jamie or betray Lucas Baker. We were all selfish liars and sinners—I, Nikky, Chase, and Cyrus…

“You really are sick, Grace. After all of that, you still wanted to give yourself to him?”

“I don’t get it either, Nikky. But Chase is partly right. I became an emotional wreck, damaged goods, because of the two of you.” The medication takes effect fast—I stare ahead, talking to my dead sister.

I press my numb lips together. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, and my body feels light, loose. Cold water droplets slide down my skin, hot tears down my chilled face. An icy pain spreads in my chest.

Wrapped in the soft towel, I watch the news. The old TV screen is a blizzard of white noise, its speakers hissing with static. I’m waiting for Cyrus to appear among the other cops. I want to see him, if only for a moment. But that’s unlikely—we’re in a different town.