Page 11 of Claimed By Ruin

I ruthlessly cut that thought off and stepped into the claw foot tub and let the precious hot water rain down on me. It was almost scalding, and burned away the tension in my muscles.

As I stood there, I searched for relief that I knew wasn’t going to come.

He thinks I betrayed him.

What a mind fuck.

I’d told him about Bridget, and he was the only person I had ever uttered those words to.

The others knew.

Of course they knew.

But they swallowed down the weak lies I’d sloppily fed them and damn near asked for seconds.

Maybe they were afraid of me.

Or maybe they, like me, knew that this world meant compromise. I’d learned that lesson the hard way, but learn it I had.

I picked up the soap from the edge of the tub and held the thin bar tight, the strong scent hitting me in the chest.

Another petty torture I couldn’t stop myself from indulging. I had been so happy when Jack gave me that soap. I should have thrown it all away, but I’d held on, used these few precious moments in the shower to indulge that scent and my memories of Jack.

Memories I cherished, even though he left me.

He made it clear that Evan was his priority. Evan should have been his priority.

Evan was family.

I was…

What was I? The person he was trapped with? The woman who would give birth to his child? A fucking murderer?

Yes, I was those things, but that was my shit to deal with.

Jack owed me nothing. And I would die before I asked him anything.

I thought back to that night, as I dragged Bridget’s lifeless body, surprisingly heavy for such a slight woman, into the field.

How I dug that shallow grave, the hard ground fighting me in a way Bridget hadn’t, the skin on my palms cracking from the rough handle of the shovel.

How torn I was between hoping someone—hoping he—would find me and praying no one would.

I’d needed him.

Wanted him.

And he hadn’t been there.

So I had been left alone to dig the hole, drop Bridget in it, and cover her up.

I’d done that by myself.

Hated myself for that and because I couldn’t hate her.

Stupid really, because when did feelings ever matter? When did they change what needed to be done?

It hurt, but I did it anyway.