Page 167 of These Tears

He begins reciting a phone number, each digit delivered in a measured and calm tone. As if time isn’t a thing that can save me. As if nothing can.

I thumb the numbers in, obeying on autopilot.

Until my brain catches up and he reaches the familiar sequence after the country code – twelve, ninety-three.

The fog clears in one violent rush.

It’s my home number in Crawley.

My ribs collapse. The pressure behind my eyes builds so fast it’s almost a living thing.

He knows my home number by heart?

Watching me the entire time, he waits until the line begins to ring.

‘Hello?’ my sister answers, and the sound of her voice cleaves through me so cleanly that I barely manage to swallow the sob rising up my windpipe.

My breath shakes. Stutters. Breaks.

‘Is anyone there?’

Elias’ gaze holds mine.

Speak, he mouths.

My lips part as if I’ve forgotten how to use them.

‘Anna?’ I try. My voice sounds too small to recognise as my own.

She gasps. ‘Oh goodness! I was getting worried! How are you, darling?!’

I swallow. My throat burns. The words are piling atop each other, never leaving my mouth. The truth wants to explode out of me in one frantic, messy confession – punishment be damned. But Elias is right there – so close I can feel the heat of him, the tension in him.

And I know – I know – he’s measuring every syllable against consequence.

‘Sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I was busy… figuring things out.’

‘Oh, I see!’ Anna chirps. ‘It’s cold here. I bet the snow is up to your neck over there.’

His face doesn’t change, but he bends closer, enough for me to feel him. Listening as if eager to hear what shapes of lies my tongue can form.

My fingers go cold around the receiver.

‘Yes,’ I say tightly. ‘There’s a lot of it.’

‘Aaaand,’ I can practically hear the smirk on her face, ‘how’s Elias?’

A sick weight settles low inside me.

My mouth falls open.

How does she know Elias is here?

My eyes widen, focus on his. His brows lower slightly, lips pressing into a thin line, forming a soundless warning that turns my blood to ice.

How far does his manipulation reach? Why would it reach her? Who else does it reach?

A tear slips free before I can stop it, tracking down my cheek – hot against skin that’s gone cold.