Page 42 of Bound By Threads
They don’t know, or maybe they do.
My screams were hard to ignore. I can still hear them ringing in my ears until they grew silent when no one came to save me.
Did they know? Did they listen to me beg and plead for him to stop?
Why would they have asked me why if they knew? I don’t know, but I do know they locked me in that room.
A target.
I hope they have no idea what happened. Why I stopped being the girl they used to know. Why I stopped talking, stopped laughing, stopped everything.
They were the ones who turned their backs on me when I needed them the most. The ones who bullied me when I couldn’t speak, when I couldn’t bring myself to look anyone in the eye, too terrified of what they would see there.
And now they’re here, sitting in front of me, watching me dance, watching me reclaim something they took from me, even if they don’t know it.
The urge to turn and run is overwhelming, but I can’t. I’ve come too far. The shame weighs on me, and I swear Oscar can sense it as he moves closer to the stage. Always ready to catch me when I fall.
I stumble just a little. Not enough to ruin the rhythm of the dance, but enough to make my heart race. My feet falter, the floor suddenly too hard beneath me, the lights too bright, the music too loud.
My chest hurts. A panic attack building steadily in my chest.
The music winds down, and I finish my set. Refusing to let them get to me. I catch one final glimpse of their faces again, just for a split second. Roman’s cold stare, Crew’s signature grin, and Elijah’s passive expression.
Oscar’s there as I walk off the stage. His eyes are on me, scanning for what I don’t know. His concern is bleeding through the air. He moves swiftly as soon as he sees me, his boots shuffling against the floor.
I can hear the crowd wooing for the next girl, lost in the world that only seems to exist in these walls, and I breathe a breath of relief, knowing I’m done for the night.“Lottie.”He signs as he approaches me.“Are you alright?”
Right. He saw me stumble. I swallow hard, trying to steady my breathing. My hands are shaking too hard to sign, so I force the words out. “Just dizzy.” I try to lie.
He steps closer, his hand resting on my shoulder. I don’t know what it is about Oscar; his touch is always warm and comforting. But tonight, it feels like a lifeline that I desperately cling to.
It’s the kind of touch I don’t deserve—the kind that makes my chest ache, but I greedily take the comfort it offers me regardless.
Oscar’s blue eyes search mine, and I know he’s not buying it. He never does. He knows me too well.“Lottie,”he repeats.“Are you ok? What’s wrong?”
I nod, trying to tell him I’m alright, even though I’m not sure I am. I can still feel their eyes on me. I can still see them, those faces in the crows, the ones who used to know me better than anyone else, the ones who helped destroy me.
“They’re out there,” I rasp, my throat aching from forcing the words out, but my hands are too shaky to try to sign, and I wouldn’t make any sense if I tried. “I’ll be fine.”
Oscar doesn’t say anything. He knows when I need him to back off, but I feel his eyes on the side of my face. The subtle tick of his jaw as he clenches his fists, and I know he wants to go out there and remove them, just like he’s done to so many other men who have made me feel uncomfortable.
“I’m right here,”he signs, and his words almost break me. He always says that. He’s always there, always ready to step in and help me, but I can’t ask him for more. Not when I’m so wrapped up in my past. Not when the guilt of loving them both is tearing me apart.
The lights flicker, and I hear the noise of the crowd on the other side growing louder as the next song starts.
My song.
Oscar steps back.“Go. Lose yourself and show them how bright you shine, Siren. Show them what they tried and failed to destroy.”He kisses my forehead, a rare show of affection in this place, but enough to ground me for the moment.
I realize I need to do this. I need to show them that I’m not the broken seventeen-year-old girl they drove to that cliff.
I’m no longer Scarlett. I’m Lottie. I’m Siren.
I take a deep breath and turn back toward the stage, trying to find the rhythm again—something that comes to me as easily as breathing.
I feel their eyes on me, but Oscar’s words sit in my chest, and I push forward. I have no choice but to keep dancing. To keep moving even if it feels like I’m falling apart inside.
Chapter22
