Page 57 of Relapse

Silas crossed his arms, blowing a lazy ring of smoke out around the two of us. There was a spark of mischief in his eyes as he said, proudly, “Me.”

He extended the blunt out again.

It called to me. Promises of euphoria.

When I didn’t make a move to take it, he raised a brow, challenging me.

“Live a little, Raven. It won’t hurt. It’s safer than the molly.”

I didn’t disagree with him. Technically, I had already done worse earlier. That familiar voice was back again, in my head. One little puff won’t hurt. You’ve done worse, remember? This is a reward.

I took hold of Silas’s hand, leading the blunt directly to my lips and inhaled deeply. I coughed once, the intensity of the drug flowing into my lungs instantly bringing a shock to my system. Silas watched me with an amused tint to his eyes, smirking. I took in more, this time slower, holding the smoke in until my lungs burned and my head swam with a hazy pleasure.

The world extended backwards, softening some. Why had I ever stopped this, again? I released the smoke in a deliberate, slow stream, watching it curl up and above my head.

I went to hand the blunt back to Silas and the room spun. I took a step forward, catching myself on Silas’s arm.

“You really haven’t been smoking,” he muttered coyly.

A sigh escaped my lips and I floated up to that perfect, peaceful place, the world dissolving around me. Time didn’t seem like a factor anymore, but before I knew it, the joint was nothing more than a blackened, crumbling bud between our finger tips. Silas’s bed welcomed me to crash back into its softness, my body sinking down into the sheets like they were quicksand. I stared out at the ceiling, the small pieces of plaster shining back to me. Stars.

“Do you know what makes you so hot?” Silas murmured huskily into my ear. I could feel our lips fighting between words, but the sensation was numbing. My mind was somewhere else.

“What?” I asked, trying to make sense of the foggy room.

“You can’t say ‘no’ to me.”

I stared at him. “Can’t I?”

Silas rose, his smile following him as he backed towards the bathroom slowly. “No. You can’t.”

I watched him disappear, the sound of the shower starting moments later. I stared up at the ceiling, wondering why I had never stopped to notice the strange choice of color that painted the room. The ceiling was black—a haunting shade for something meant to wake up to, I considered. And yet the walls were light gray, almost like Silas’s eyes.

The door to the bathroom opened slightly, exposing Silas’s half soaked form. His dampened hair almost fell past his shoulders now, clinging to every piece of skin it touched. The heat from the steam of the water made him appear almost bronze, and he stood in the illuminated doorframe, nude, skin glowing like a greek god.

“Join me?” he offered with an incline of his brow.

I wanted to say yes, but fear held me still, preventing me from giving him an answer right away. I wished I could loosen its grip and allow myself to fall into the closeness that Silas offered. But no matter how hard I tried, I was trapped in those unending nights of torment, incapable of seeing myself as anything other than what I was trained to be: a used tool, a voiceless child, a caged bird beating its wings senselessly against the air, unable to take flight.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “Uh…give me a minute?”

Silas lips curled into a crooked grin. “I’ll be waiting.”

I knew I didn’t have much left inside of me to give. But intimacy was something I clung to—a part of myself that not many had touched. Really just Silas…and Delane… had opened that chapter in my book.

My eyes flickered to the right, scanning for the rest of my clothes. I didn’t have to stay. My impulsive nature was coaxing me: Run.

Now would be the best time to just get my shit and go. Silas would be pissed, but part of me knew that he’d still keep after me. I didn’t have to face this moment with him if I didn’t want to.

My anxiety existed beyond the past abuse. I knew my feelings stemmed from something deeper, the fear of giving too much of myself, only to be let down continuously in the end. To be abandoned. If I didn’t allow him closer, I wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces when this little facade exploded, and he finally had his fill of me.

One day, my brain warned me, everyone you care about will see you for what you really are.

And they’ll fucking hate you.

Just like you hate yourself.

SILAS