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And where the fuck is her conditioner?
She has gorgeous curly hair. Surely, she knows that she can’t use that shit shampoo on her hair. It’ll damage the curls. She needs conditioner, she needs a shower cap, a silk fucking bonnet...
For fuck’s sake.
I gather her bath supplies and promptly dump them into the trash.
Absolutely fucking not.
This simply won’t fucking do.
“You’re a fucking mess,” I whisper again, almost as if she can hear me.
That familiar pang of anxiety tunnels through my system, nestling tightly in my chest along with that familiaraffectionthat’s reserved just for Atlas Ortega.
“Fuck.” I run a hand over my face.“Fuck.”
She needs me more than she fucking knows. I’m struck by the sight of her though. Once again, I can’t look away from the peace on her face. In the five years that I’ve followed her, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so peaceful...
She breathes deeply, a soft sigh that I feel deep within myself even. If we were together. Truly together like this... would we be... less broken?
Then her lashes flutter. And then I’m racing across the room like the creep that I am. I trip over the ungrateful cat and stumble into the wall so hard, I’m sure I’ve cracked the plaster. I barely grip the closet door handle before I hear the springs of the mattress shifting.
And then I’m watching through the thin slats of the world’s tiniest fucking closet.
Seven
Atlas
It’s a sharp, intensifying pain that wakes me. It’s a throbbing so acute that it almost sounds like a door slamming when I first wake.
Dahmer purrs happily against my chest, and he settles in right on top of me. I push him gently aside as I breathe through the pulsing in my head. A copper taste taints my tongue when I swallow. What happened to me?
I remember talking to that guy after class.Simon? And then I walked home.
Fear strikes through my heart as a voice slices through my memories.
Shut the fuck up!
I was attacked...
A shiver crawls through me and I sit up in the small bed. I’m wearing old pajamas that I haven’t worn since before my mother was taken to the institution. They’re two sizes too small and constrict against my skin. What the fuckhappenedto me?
I search the room. How did I get here? I scan the darkness; the moonlight shining in from the dormer window above my bed brings only a bit of light to the shadows.
But nothing seems out of place...
Did I do laundry this morning? I was running late, but I don’t remember picking up...
Pieces of my life are missing and hazy, and all I can do is grip my hands around my arms and hug myself for a long moment as if the action will stop me from falling apart.
I stand, and I don’t know why I expect the attacker to be sitting in my tiny living room when I turn the corner. But no one’s here. Everything is quiet. I stand alone and immobile for a long moment as I try to remember everything that happened.
I was attacked...
Iwas. I hadn’t hallucinated or dreamt it.
Ithappened.
