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Slade climbs from his seat and heads to the fridge. He rummages around inside before moving to the cupboard above his head. He tosses the things he grabs on the counter, then opens the top drawer for a knife.
I snort at the ingredients. “A peanut butter and jelly sandwich? That’s the best we can do?”
“We’re not a hotel. If she’s hungry, she’ll eat.”
I look at him as he assembles the sandwich. I pick my mug back up and finish my coffee. He’s acting odd, even for him. “What is it about her that sets you off?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit!” I scoff, placing my empty mug in the sink before turning back around to look at him. “I know what you’re saying, and I’m not saying I don’t agree with you. But there is a difference between being suspicious and downright hostile. There is something about this woman that sets you off. Why?”
He ignores me as he puts the sandwich on a plate and cleans up, but he should know better than to assume I’ll drop it.
With a grunt, he shoves the plate into my hands. “How about you take this to her?”
“Take it yourself. Shouldn’t be a problem, right?” I shove the plate back and walk away.
He mumbles something under his breath before stomping down the hallway. He doesn’t bother knocking on the door. Instead, he shoves it open, and seconds later he yanks it closed. He glares at me before moving over to the sofa and throwing himself down on it.
“She, okay?”
“She’s fine, if the look she gave me is anything to go by. I suggest we make sure all the knives are hidden.”
I chuckle, sitting next to him after grabbing the two controllers for the PlayStation and tossing one at him. “You need to chill. Like you said, for however long it takes Ev to dig into her life, we’re stuck together. You need to figure your shit out.”
“My shit is just fine. Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. Don’t think I don’t see the way you’ve been looking at her.”
I don’t deny it. I look at him and roll my eyes. “Tell me that you don’t want to fuck her too.”
He doesn’t answer, which, of course, is an answer in itself.
CHAPTER FIVE
Astrid
I eye the food on the floor before turning away from it in disgust. Aside from the fact that the giant asshole couldn’t be bothered to walk the ten steps to put it on the dresser, reminding me that I’m little more than a prisoner right now, the sandwich itself has peanut butter in it. I can smell it from here. Since I’m deathly allergic to peanuts, I think I’ll pass. Though it might be worth keeping a little of it back just in case I need a way out. As dramatic as it sounds, I swore the last time I was used as leverage, I wouldn’t be someone’s pawn ever again. I’m afraid of many things but dying isn’t one of them.
I sit on the edge of the bed, my body aching from standing tensely in the same spot for so long. They want me to take a shower and make myself comfortable. But if they think I’m going to make myself vulnerable by stripping, they’re crazy. Rubbing my hand over my face, I feel exhaustion tug at me. The last few weeks have been draining. Hell, the last few years have been. If, I mean, when I make it out of here, I need to take a good long look at my life and make some changes.
I’ve tried using my gifts to help people. I’ve tried keeping my mouth shut and dealing with the horrendous guilt in the aftermath of staying silent. I’ve rebelled and conformed and tried to be everything people wanted me to be, but it was never enough. I’m finally at the point where I realize I never will be.
Spending time away from people has been the best thing. Loneliness is always going to be better than persecution, but I hadn’t been ready to give up on the human race just yet. Coming here, though, reminds me that you can’t give up on someone when they gave up on you first. No. I’m done here. When I get out, I’m going to get a dog, I think. A golden retriever or maybe a rottweiler—something that will eat anyone that comes to my door.
I want to live in peace, and having a dog will mean I have someone to shower all my love on. A tightening around my chest makes my breath hitch, and I feel tears prick my eyes as a feeling of utter hopelessness weighs me down. The tears start to fall, and I feel weak for not being able to hold them back, but the harder I try, the faster they fall.
I crawl into the center of the bed and curl into a ball, ignoring the way my jeans dig into my stomach. If I were at home, my pants and bra would have been off the second I walked through the door, but that’s not an option here. Just something else for me to hate them for. Eventually, my crying tires me out, and I drift off to sleep.
Later, when I wake up with a crick in my neck and my stomach rumbling, I realize someone came in while I was sleeping and took my boots off. I can’t even pretend to be surprised that it didn’t wake me when I usually sleep like the dead. Still, knowing that one of them was in here while I slept makes my stomach roll. Thankfully, my clothes are still on.
I sit up and rub my eyes. Looking around the room, I try to guess how long I’ve slept, but with the shutters drawn over the windows blocking the light, it’s impossible to tell. I climb off the bed and quietly walk across the room, noting that the sandwich from before is now on the dresser. I have to assume it was Jagger that came in here because Slade doesn’t seem to give a fuck about me or my comfort. I’m sure he’d have been quite happy for me to eat it off the floor like a dog.
I walk over to the door and press my ear against it, but I can’t hear anything. I bite my lip and chew on the idea of going out to investigate, but I bet they’re out there waiting for me to do just that. Instead, I make my way to the bathroom and turn the light on. I close the door and go to lock it before realizing the door doesn’t even have a lock on it.
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” I mutter to myself as I move over to the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair looks like a rat’s nest, and my cheek has creases from falling asleep leaning on my hands.I look pale, but then I always look pale. My eyes are aggravated from falling asleep with my contacts in. As much as I’d like to leave them in, I know I can’t.
As quickly as I can, I use the facilities and wash my hands, splashing some cold water on my face before cupping them and using them to drink the cool, refreshing water. Once I’m finished, I leave the bathroom and walk across the room to the door again, each step feeling like a mistake. But hey, what’s one more to add to my collection?
I turn the handle, surprised to find it unlocked, and step out. Taking a deep breath, I walk down the hallway until I reach the door that leads outside. I look toward the living room, which had been my original destination, before my hand closes over the knob of the backdoor.
