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“It’s not fucking nothing. You were…” He audibly swallows, his eyes shuttering as he inhales a ragged breath.
When his eyes open again, his gaze pins me to the bed. Paralyses me and makes me wish I could shrink into nothing.
“Elliot, I?—”
“Why?” he grits out. “Why the fuck would you do this to yourself.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I whisper, dropping my gaze, refusing to look at him.
Refusing to face the truth.
“You think I wouldn’t… Of course you do.” Bitter laughter spills out of him but I’m too weary, too broken to care.
The silence is deafening as Elliot begins to clean my thighs. He’s careful; methodically wiping the tiny cuts with an antiseptic wipe before covering them with a small dressing.
When he’s done, he grips my chin and forces me to look at him. “Promise me you won’t do this again.”
“I… I can’t,” I breathe, the truth a glacial wall between us.
His eyes darken, making my heart tumble in my chest. He looks terrifying. Beyond angry.
“It wasn’t like I was trying to kill myself or anything.” My voice cracks. “I just… I needed it to stop. I needed…” I swallow the words. Because how can I possibly explain everything?
He’s Elliot Eaton. An All Hallows’ Heir. He would never be so weak, so desperate that he had to hurt himself the way I have.
Another wave of shame rolls through me, curdling in my stomach.
“I want you to stay here,” he says.
“What? No, that’s not?—”
“I wasn’t asking, Abigail. Clearly, you can’t be trusted to look after yourself.” He lets go of my chin and stands. “I’ll ask Millie to pack up your things and bring them over.”
“Elliot, I can’t move into the Chapel, it’s not… I can’t.”
“The girls will be back soon. When they find out about this?—”
“What?” I bolt up. “You can’t tell them. You can’t… No, Elliot.” Panic floods me as I glare at him. “This has nothing…nothingto do with them. Nothing. Please.”
“Shit, Abs. Calm down. Just take a fucking breath, yeah.” His arms come around me and he gathers me into his chest, but I can’t stop crying.
I can’t stop the tears from pouring out as I curl my fingers into his hoodie.
I’ve imagined being in Elliot’s arm so many times, spent my days wondering what it would be like to be the centre of his world. But not like this—never like this.
The thought is like a bucket of ice-cold water, and I instantly step back out of his hold, frantically drying my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say, forcing myself to meet his narrowed gaze. “I’m a mess, I know. But it’s not your problem, Elliot. I’ll speak to Miss Linley, get some help. I’ll?—”
“No.”
“No?” My brows furrow.
“You can stay here until you feel… better.”
As if it’s that simple.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
