Page 78 of Bound By Threads
“Good,” she says flatly. “Maybe you’ll finally understand a fraction of what you three did to me. How it feels to be helpless, knowing no one’s coming to save you.”
I move toward the door. “You can’t lock me in here. Lottie…please.”
She pauses. “This is what accountability looks like, Crew. You’re going to sit here, and you’re going to think about everything you did to me, what you drove me to do. You used the drugs to numb the pain, you don’t get to judge me for starting over to erase mine…” She sniffles, and I suddenly hate myself a little bit more. “This isn’t even close to what you deserve. But I’m not a monster, and this is just the start. You might want to warn the other two when they finally find you.”
And then she’s gone.
Darkness.
Silence.
I slide to the floor, knees to my chest, heart racing.
I can already feel the panic clawing at my throat, but beneath it, deeper, is something worse.
Guilt.
This is what she felt like.
Every time we locked her in a room. Every time we broke her, just a little bit more to make ourselves feel better.
And for the first time in a long time, I no longer want to run from what I did because she spoke to me.
The dark’s gotten quieter.
Not the silence of the room because that’s still heavy and suffocating, but the kind in my head. The kind that used to shriek every second of the day that she was gone.
The pain lessened the moment I found out she was alive, only to return with a vengeance when she no longer resembled the same girl I once loved, and how different she became just to survive.
I missed it all, and I wasn’t there to support her like I should have.
But the voice in my head is louder now, reminding me that we’re the reason why she had to survive.
It feels like even the worst parts of me are now holding their breath.
She didn’t scream. She didn’t lash out like she should have.
She locked me in.
It’s the first time I’ve felt like I deserve something… but more than that, it gives me hope because she started with me.
She spoke to me. Was honest… even if it cut me apart.
My knees ache. I don’t know how long it’s been.
Maybe an hour? Maybe more.
The air in here smells like bleach and dust, and I can barely stand the way my stomach twists with every inhale. But I stay sitting on the cold floor, hands gripping the edge of my sleeves to ground myself.
I hear them before I see them. Roman’s heavy footsteps and Elijah’s lower voice, arguing just outside the closest door.
The door jiggles once. Then again, harder.
“Crew?”
It’s Roman’s voice.
The lock clicks, and the door cracks open. The light spills into the cramped room, and I wince at the sudden glare, shielding my eyes as two shadows loom in the doorway.
