Page 62 of Bound By Threads
I step back, dragging in a breath that feels like it scrapes against my lungs, and I think I might throw up.
“Elijah,” Roman snaps. “You need to cool it.”
He doesn’t look at us. Doesn’t even blink. His eyes are locked on Scarlett and Oscar like he’s memorizing the way their bodies lean together, like if he stares long enough, he’ll make them come apart, and he’ll be the one there instead.
“She’s kissing him,” he bites out, his voice jagged. “Right in front of everyone… us. Like we don’t exist. Like we never…”
“Like you don’t have a goddamn wife?” I cut in, my hands shaking.
Roman turns toward me, frowning, searching for signs that I’m high, but I ignore him.
“You shouldn’t care, Elijah. You have a whole life now. Remember that? You have a wife. Or is this about the fact she moved on and we didn’t?”
His jaw twitches, his fists curling tighter. “Don’t.”
“No,” I snap, stepping in front of him, not caring that we’re making a scene right now. “Don’t what? Don’t say what we’re all thinking? That she looks happy, breathing easy for the first time in forever. Maybe just maybe she deserves it all after the shit we dragged her through.”
Something in my chest is unraveling—too fast and messy. My skin’s crawling, nerves frayed and sparking like live wires in water.
Roman moves to step between us, playing the peace keeper as always, but I’m not done.
“You… we don’t get to be mad that she’s with him,” I say, my voice trembling. “She’s found something good, and we’re still drowning in her loss.”
Roman scoffs beside me, sharp and bitter. “She’s a fucking liar. That’s all she is. She let us think she was dead for two years.”
“Maybe she had no other choice.”
He shrugs, his eyes dead. “Either did we. Doesn’t mean we ran off and became someone else just because things got hard. She couldn’t handle a little pressure.”
“A little pressure?” My voice rises. “You mean the way we treated her like a punching bag? Or when we took pleasure in the tears that ran down her face because your dad hit you, or made us do a run.”
“We did what we were told,” Elijah mutters, his voice hollow. “Your dad said to make her life hell because her parents couldn’t pay up. So we did.”
Obey or die. That’s what we were told, and when it came down to it, we decided her pain was easier to stomach than our own.
So we laughed when she flinched. Looked away when she broke.
And when she finally tried to tell us why she shut us out, we were way past caring. We silenced her again, locking her in the janitor’s closet, dripping in chili, her thin frame shaking, her mouth parted, and tears in her eyes.
“I haven’t slept in three days,” I say. “And my skin feels like it’s peeling off from the inside. I’m done talking about this.”
Scarlett says something else to Oscar—more signing—and then she squeezes his hand before walking towards the doors.
* * *
I followher for most of the day, keeping my distance as she goes to her classes.
She’s studying Marine Biology, and a smile spreads over my face as I watch her watching the professor with a smile as he talks about coral reef ecology.
When the class is dismissed, she heads toward the cafeteria… I follow.
She walks different now, laughing with her friends… Zara? I think her name is. They laugh about something I can’t hear, but it doesn’t matter. It’s the way she laughs that gets me. Light. Unburdened.
She doesn’t seeme when she stops at the dessert counter, scanning the selection. Her hand hovers over a brownie.
The same kind she used to get when the days were too heavy.
I frown.
