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I guess the heart has a way of making you feel guilty even when you know you deserve this.
In the end, he did the right thing.
Was it because I asked? Or because I fled to that car?
I shiver in place from the memories of those boys and how he split their skulls open.
It’s not every day something like that happens … or that a man is willing to risk his life to keep yours safe.
He genuinely didn’t want me to get hurt.
And I told him I hated him.
I meant it.
Until I saw my hometown again.
All the mean-spirited emotions evaporated from my mind. And all I wanted to do was hug and kiss him and tell him how grateful I was.
But then he was gone.
Just like that.
He sacrificed his own loyalty to his House just to give me what I really wanted. Just to make me happy.
And I didn’t even get to say thank you.
Or goodbye.
I take another big sip of my tea and another bite of my cookie, but it jams halfway in my throat.
I can’t swallow.
Not because I don’t want to or because it tastes bad … but because I have a gaping hole in my heart, and it makes me want to cry.
I stop, put my food down, and pat away the single tear sliding down my cheek. I look at the wetness on my thumb, wondering where it came from. But I already know the answer. I just made myself believe all this time this is what I wanted, what I needed.
But what I need is him.
I get up from the couch and breathe in and out a couple of times, trying to come to terms with what I’ve been feeling all this time that I was home. All this time, I thought I just needed more time, but what I truly need is to know that he’s okay.
And there’s only one way to know for sure.
I run to my cabinet and pluck out the note Soren wrote for me. Time to pay someone, whoever is there, a visit.
It doesn’t take me long to find the address he scribbled down. It only took me a few hours to drive there. But when I’m right in front of the big building, my nerves begin to weigh down on me. Still, I walk through the door and step onto the elevator, painstakingly waiting for it to arrive on the right floor. I walk up to the door and press the doorbell, swallowing the nerves deep into my stomach.
When the door opens, my jaw drops, but I’m too stunned to say a word.
“April?”
After a while, I stutter, “Amelia?”
One of the girls from the House, one of the other captives, is here in the flesh. I talked to her only once, when we were all together in a room guarded by none other than Soren so we wouldn’t start plotting an escape. I clearly remember her wanting to throw a fight to create some sort of uprising against our captors. And now she’s really here, living her life in freedom.
I can’t believe my eyes, so I rub them to make sure I’m not dreaming.
“You’re really here. How?” she asks, and she grabs my hand. “Are you okay? Come, we’ll talk inside.”
She pulls me in before I can even say anything. I’m just too flabbergasted to form an eloquent response.
I never would’ve imagined the address Soren gave me would lead me straight to one of the other House’s captives.
“How did you find this place?” she asks again as she closes the door behind her.
Her home is so warm and inviting, green and blue colors everywhere, and it smells fresh like a summer beach.
“I … I …” I fish the note from my pocket and hold it out to her.
She frowns, clearly not understanding. “Eli?”
My eyes widen as the man himself steps out from the bedroom. When our eyes connect, he stops in his tracks while my heart begins to beat in my throat.
“E-Eli,” I mutter.
I did not expect to see him here. The mere sight of his dark eyes and the way he walks in that suit of his like he’s the devil himself still makes me choke up.
He approaches us slowly and mutters, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I lick my lips, finding it hard to believe. The last time I saw him was at the House when he was still the one orchestrating all of the pain the men and women had to endure. He was the mastermind behind it all, and now he’s … here? Living a normal life? Why? What happened?
He holds out his hand, glancing at the note, so I give it to him.
He frowns, clenching his jaw. “Soren wrote this.”
I nod. I’m surprised he recognizes the writing. Then again, they were accomplices for a long time.
“Did he tell you to come here?” he asks.
