Page 86 of Bound By Threads
I roll my eyes. “It was just water.”
His mouth twitches, almost like he’s bored and knows I’m faking it. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t leave her alone. Touch her again, Roman, and I’ll bury you so deep no one will be able to hear you scream. Your name will be scraped from everywhere. You’ll vanish faster than she did.”
He steps into my space, eyes locked on mine. “Apologize.”
I glance at her, but she’s still silent.
I could say sorry. Pretend to back down, but instead, I smile.
“You know,” I say, voice low, just loud enough for her and Will to hear. “Your dad didn’t take it well. You being dead and all…”
She blinks, but it’s subtle. I’ve gotten to her.
“He stuck around for a while. Kept asking the police questions. Wouldn’t stop looking for you because he couldn’t accept that his daughter would kill herself by throwing herself into the ocean…” I pause. “He’s gone, just thought you’d want to know. That is if you still care.”
There it is—the crack in her mask. Small. Subtle. But I see it.
“Didn’t they tell you?” I go on, “I thought with all your new family's money, you would have at least checked up on your dad. Guess not. Guess you didn’t want to know. He’s gone, Reyes, and it’s all your fault.”
Her eyes flicker. Just once, but it’s enough.
Will steps in, blocking my view of her, his jaw tight. “Leave. Now.”
“I didn’t touch her,” I say, raising my hands slightly, like it somehow makes me innocent. “Was just passing along the message.”
“I’m not going to tell you again, Roman. Leave now before I do something I won’t regret.”
There’s nothing else to say.
So I turn and walk away.
But even as I round the corner, the image of her blinking down at that water-soaked book, with the barest flicker of pain on her face, sticks in my mind.
I light a cigarette as soon as I’m out of sight, the wind catching the flame on the third try. My hands shaking.
The small flicker in her eyes… that was real. I got to her. I hit where it hurt, and it felt like I finally had control for the first time in years.
Everything is spiraling, but that? That was something I was good at.
Breaking her back then was my escape. Making her feel as broken as I was.
It made me feel less alone in my misery.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I expect it to be Crew, but it’s Elijah.
Elijah
Where are you? He’s getting worse.
I take one last drag, crush the cigarette under my foot, and head back towards the dorms.
The moment I step into the room, the smell hits me first—sweat, vomit, a sour tinge that clings to the air. Crew’s in the bathroom, curled up beside the toilet, shirt stuck to his back with sweat.
He’s shaking, jaw clenched so tight it looks like he could crack his own teeth.
“Jesus,” I mutter, crossing the room. “How long has he been like this? And where the fuck were you both?”
Elijah sits on the edge of the sink, a wet rag in his hands. His eyes are red, not from tears—he doesn’t cry—but from the exhaustion of watching someone come undone inch by inch. He rolls his eyes. “He went looking for her but started throwing up again an hour ago. He won’t keep water down.”
