Page 42 of Relapse

“Shut up,” I snapped back, ripping through the stupid box without a care of how it looked anymore. I hadn’t wanted to seem too eager, or ruin whatever was inside, but Silas’s impatience was not fond of my delicate unwrapping skills.

Tear through the damn thing it is then, I thought.

In the black box, wrapped tightly in blue tissue paper, I uncovered a small plane. It was gold in color, and heavy. Not much bigger than a quarter. I turned it over in my hand, examining it. I wondered instantly if it was real.

“It’s gold,” Silas answered, reading my mind yet again.

I released a nervous breath I had been holding in. A gift of this sort had to be expensive. I knew Silas’s intentions for getting me something like this had to be more than just a shiny trinket.

I turned to look at him, delicately holding the little figurine in my palm. “What does it mean?” I asked.

“An escape,” he said, without hesitation. “Whenever you have the urge. Whenever you want to get out of here. Out of this place. Out of that Godforsaken house of yours. When you do—you tell me.”

Silas motioned with his hands in the air above him, like he was actively envisioning it. “We’ll jump on the first plane out of here. We’ll leave,” he added.

The shock in the room was palpable.

Silas stopped, eyes shooting back to me, noticing my stunned silence.

Quickly, he closed the space between us. His hand came to rest on my cheek.

“We. Leave,” he repeated with emphasis, as though he knew I needed to hear it twice.

Was I in another realm right now? I gazed out the glass windows at the city skyscrapers. Everything blended together, so pretty, the lights were dancing in my vision, but even the beauty couldn’t keep the panic from my chest, the sweat beginning to return. The room felt hot, closed in.

“You can’t just leave,” I finally sputtered out. “You’ve got responsibilities here. You can’t just up and quit on life all together.”

Silas’s face was stone. “Watch me.”

My defense mechanisms were kicking in. Just what exactly was Silas offering me? What was he not saying?

My eyes took in the room yet again—the gift, the wine, the balloons. That familiar feeling of tightness in my chest returned. Even though it was only Silas and I in the room, the walls inched closer and the sound of our breaths were loud, almost too loud for me.

My gaze honed in on the wine and I grabbed the bottle, popping it open. I needed something to ease the presence in my body, the one that felt trapped, pressing hard against my skin from the inside. I took a swig, but my throat still constricted around the sweet flavor. I exhaled with a little shake, strained to keep myself calm as I took a deep breath in again.

I crossed the room back towards the door just to put a bit of space between us. I really needed some air. I drank another gulp directly from the bottle as Silas eyed me curiously. Maybe the wine would take the edge off before I had another breakdown.

Chapter twelve

Russian Roulette

SILAS

Noah’s face told me he was overwhelmed. No, more than that, I overstepped.

Shit.

Inner me wasn’t the type to panic, but watching him backtrack, pop the wine, and say nothing, made me feel as though the world was collapsing. Irrational? Possibly, but I wasn’t in full control of my emotions at the moment, and the urge to change course and tell him something else that would take us away from the pressure I’d just placed on him.

“I killed a man,” I blurted.

Smooth, I thought. Just the right thing to say.

I didn’t have remorse. But maybe I had been holding it in too long. Some part of me wanted to tell Noah what I had done. While I couldn’t disclose the information about David, I could reveal what had happened the same day.

I needed to know if he’d push me away. Would seeing the darkest parts of me make him run? Or would he accept me, like I had him?

Noah gazed back at me, perplexed. “What did you just say?”