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“It’s your birthday too,” I reply, a little quieter.
“I didn’t celebrate our eighteenth. How could I, without you?”
I did, but I don’t tell him that.
“You should be allowed to have a party. Just, please, don’t expect me to be there.”
“I understand,” he nods. “Though I know you, and I know you need to get back into situations that are familiar to you. Friends, get-togethers,usfour. That’s your familiarity and your comfort.”
“Not anymore.” The sigh is barely audible as it completely escapes me. I’m vulnerable with only Jake, more willing to let another being take care of me…and those fucking wordsescaped.
I feel him shift next to me, giving himself time to swallow what I just said. It takes a long minute, but the words still hit hard when he speaks.
“Talk to me, Ozy. I beg you.”
I shake my head and close my eyes, unable to reply when my throat gets clogged with emotions.
“If not me, someone. Anyone. The hospital called me, and they said you’re refusing to see the therapist.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “If I needed to see a therapist every time someone tries to kill or abduct me, I wouldn’t be doing anything else with my life.”
I realize the toxicity of my words, but Iamtoxic. It’s so obvious it’s practically become my branding. Ishouldbe seeing a therapist for all the times someone tried to kill me or abduct me. For all the times Bianco toyed with me, and for the months I spent with the Volkovs. I have no excuses. I simply don’t want to.
“They didn’ttry, Ozy, they succeeded,” he hisses through gritted teeth. His jaw is ticking, and he runs a hand through his thick, black hair. The same as mine. He sighs, hating himself for snapping at me. “I want you to be okay, not just say you’re okay.Please,” he insists. “How are you feeling? Just one word. One emotion.”
“Frustrated,” I snap at him.
At him, at life. There is this grip on my guts, chest, and head. It pulls at my shoulders too. It makes my back heavy and it drags my feet when I try to walk. It makes me grind my teeth at night and makes my jaw lock during the day. Frustration at the need to get back at life for what it put me through. I feel incomplete, empty. I am human, with a functioning body with limbs and organs and the ability to activate a plethora of emotions.
Yet, all I feel is this burning need for revenge flooding my veins, boiling my blood, and yet it keeps my body frozen.
I want my revenge on life. I just don’t know where to start, don’t know how to control myself. I’m ready to snap at everyone, everything.
So it’s better if I’m left alone.
Jake sighs, his eyes reading the suppressed anger in mine. “What do you need from me?”
“I’ve missed you so much,” I reply. I stub my cigarette on the windowsill and throw it out.
“Don’t ignore my question. You’re so good at acting tough, Ozy. And youare.But every time Chris is in Stoneview, you sneak into his room at night for safety. He told me.”
I’m about to defend myself, but he cuts me off. “It’s not just that. I haven’t seen you in two years, and the first thing I notice is that youstilldon’t close your door when you’re on your own. That’s old trauma from before Volkov. That’s things you should have healed a long time ago.”
“Almosttwo years.”
“What?”
“I was gone for sixteen months.”
He shakes his head, shocked at my words. “You’re hanging onto such small things to be mad about. Fuck, look at you,” he tells me in a whispered voice, fogged by the realization of how bad it is. “You’re oozing PTSD from every single pore on your body.”
I pinch my lips to not shout at him. I hate when he’s right.
“You wanna know what I need from you, Jake?” I huff. I turn and face him completely, my gaze going up from our slight height difference. “Time.”
“Time?”
“Yeah. Because somehow, at some point, I will crack. I will burst open, and I will let all the emotions flood into the world. I’m gonna need to talk, I’m gonna need to cry, and I’m gonna need you.”
