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As I'm glancing up at the mirror, my phone vibrates.
My heart leaps in my chest when I read it.
Little Dove:I'm at the Red Lodge hotel ten minutes from the coffee shop you used to go to on your breaks in case you feel the need to check up on me. I might even open the door if you do.
Laughing, I press my back against the wall and contact an Uber. Seeing he's okay is probably all I need and then I'll be more myself again. He's right, it's my guilty conscience interfering with everything.
Then why wasn't it enough last time? Is it because he was at a distance and my eyes weren't fully convinced? I remember when he went so still in my arms every time he clung to me in the basement and I was so worried I was losing him. Then his strong heartbeat intertwined with mine, offering me hope and reassurance. It became something I needed in order to be sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me—to not only see he’s okay but to feel it too.
Will being in the same room with him keep my nightmares away? There’s only one way to truly know.
Fourteen
Ignacio
IthoughtIcouldbe patient. After all, I had been all this time. He was supposed to want to find me so badly, he'd jump through all the necessary hoops. Even if they put him in danger. Instead, I let my emotions get the best of me, ones I wish I no longer had.
The attachment I held for him before was dangerous then and now it's deadly. He baited me like a fish on a hook and every time I saw him I was fucking starving. He was a tempting prize I couldn't help but swim to and then he hung my ass out to dry.
Clenching my fists, I pound against my steering wheel. No more text messages come and I can't stop staring at my phone, waiting for one anyway. Seeing someone else's hand on him made me unhinged. My body shook with anger and an ugly twisting sensation took over my stomach.
I watched him from outside the bar, looking through the window to see him leaning into a stranger, getting too close for comfort. I was the kid who kept coming back to the store, checking on the toy he only allowed himself to admire from a distance. The one he struggled to fully walk away from. He couldn't let himself have it but no one else could either.
Her pretty pink manicured nails ran down his arm and I pressed my fingers into the window, wishing the glass didn't keep me from choking the bitch out. I had to do something to stop it from going any further. He won't have a chance at being happy with anyone else. He doesn't get to have his fun and enjoy the company of others while I'm rotting away inside. He will suffer with me until I revel in his pain and rise above him.
Shoving open the car door, I step onto the pavement of the hotel parking lot and hurry toward the entrance. The cold stings at my skin, my wet hair hardening in a matter of seconds. I still prefer it to the heat. After spending so much time in a freezing room with little to keep me warm, it's the only way I can fully be comfortable now.
Despite all my hard work, I'm less normal than before. I definitely won't fit in with everyone else now. I can't enjoy food the same way, I hate how clothes feel against my skin, and the only way I can lie comfortably is on a concrete floor. Sleep is a distant memory and every day I wake up with rage filling my bones.
No one's at the front desk as I walk to the elevator, and I ride it up to my floor alone. Being in small spaces with others makes me queasy and it's hard to breathe. My phone vibrates and my lips tilt.
Daddy:You didn't tell me what room number you were in?
Me: Why must I do all the work for you?
Daddy: I guess I can figure it out myself.
Me: Have fun.
Who's the fucking fish now? I can't wait until the hook cuts into him and he breaks in half while trying to get away.
Whenever we were alone in that damp cellar, I clung to him, pressing my body into his like memory foam so if he ever got free, he'd still feel and smell me everywhere. I'd consume his brain so much, he couldn't escape me. No matter how far apart we physically were.
He needs to suffer the way I have. As much as I tried not to, he's all I thought about for the last fourteen months. I tried to forget him but the memory of his smile and jokes were my solace. Me needing those memories to get by only fueled my revenge.
Nibbling on the tips of my fingers, I pace the room until my head gets dizzy. As soon as I plop down on the nearest chair, a loud bang comes to the door. My heart beats erratically in my chest and for a few seconds I forget how to move my feet.
“Iggy?” a deep, calm voice says from the other side, no trace of weariness or anguish to be found. He sounds the same as he did before, unbothered and perfect.
Taking a deep breath and then humming softly to myself, I walk to the door. I form my lips into a smile as I get closer, spreading them wider as I reach for the knob, wanting to feel every part of it if only for a short time.
Everett is standing alone in the hallway when I pull the door open. His face—pale blue eyes and flushed cheeks—is unreadable. Shifting where he stands, his lips press together.
“Hi.”
I swallow hard, my body remaining stiff. “Hi.”
“Can I come in?” He peeks around me, his eyes circling the room.
