Although dating isn’t really what this is. I only got close to him to figure out what happened to Zoey. But part of me is drawn to him and his darkness, and it’s just another thing I can add to my self-loathing list.
His steps are calculated as he approaches me. “Shh…” He crouches down beside me and pets my head, like a creepy motherfucker. “It’s almost over, and then you can go home.” Another stroke of his hand.
His touch feels like maggots crawling over my skin, trying to eat me in my half-dead state.
“Am I dying…” I manage to croak out.
He traces a path along my hairline. “Do you want to die?”
The answer to that is complicated; it’s like asking me whether or not I want another hit. I always do but know I shouldn’t. Part of me wants to die, for this to go away—for all of it to go away—my entire pathetic existence. But in the pit of my chest, where my heart struggles to breathe, it whispers for me to fight—live. It’s pure instinct, my lungs thriving refusal to allow myself to fade into the dark oblivion of the unknown.
“No,” I whisper. “Please… I want to live.”
He cups my chin and angles my head toward him, forcing me to move like a doll. “Then you’ll live, but you’ll also have to comply.
I’m not sure if I believe him.
In fact, I think he might be lying.
I smell it in the air all around me.
The bitter stench of death.
It’s all I can breathe in, feel, think about. It’s like poison in my veins.
I wish I’d never come here.It’s the last thought I have before I feel Jason’s fingers wrap tightly around my arm.
“Shh…” he whispers. “It’ll be over soon.”
I whimper as a needle pierces my skin. For a moment, I bask in the pain because it’s real, and real is something.
But then darkness claws through my mind, trying to dig its way out from my insides and consume me. I could fight it, but instead I close my eyes and allow it to devour me.
3
AVA
The tile floor is cold against my knees, and it feels wonderful against my overly warm skin. It might be disgusting that I’m kneeling on the bathroom floor with no eagerness to get up but moving means going forward. While I’ve always been okay with doing that, my future path is leading toward a place that is even more terrifying than my past.
My throat burns from vomiting, and my stomach aches. I want to lie down on the floor and pass out, but my mind won’t stop soaring. That’s the thing about me confessing a few secrets to Ellis. I’ve cracked open a door and now all of my secrets are working to shove the door the rest of the way open and spill everything out. I could try to shut it again, but where would that leave me? Drowning in the past again. Like Clover said all of those years ago, lungs need to breathe, and mine are fucking screaming for air.
Groaning, I push up from the floor. I wash my face and hands before exiting the bathroom. Clara is awake now, and so is Bailey. She’s sitting up on the sofa, holding a cup of coffee, while Bailey bounces around, probably needing to go to the bathroom. Ellis is sitting on the edge of the desk that’s against the farthest wall. He has a breakfast sandwich in his hand.
“Yeah, I’m not used to towns as small as this,” Clara says to Ellis. “It’s crazy how secluded it is—” She stops talking, her eyes skating to me as I enter the room.
“Dude, you look awful,” she informs me with a frown. “I think you need to sit down and eat something.”
A shaky exhale fumbles from my lips as I sit down on the foot of the bed. “I’m too hungover to eat.”
Her frown grows more prominent. “You need to eat.”
I sigh heavily. “Fine, I’ll try to.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Again, I wonder how much she knows about what’s going on.
Ellis hands me a breakfast sandwich, his eyes scanning me as if I’m some fragile flower about to wilt and die. I hate the look. I wish I were stronger.
I don’t want to be a fragile flower.
