Sebastian
Devin tosses and turns nextto me, waking me from a less-than-restful sleep.
“No,” she grumbles, and her legs kick under the sheets. “No.... No....”
This has become a routine for us. Nightly, Devin has been plagued by nightmares, and I lie in wait to try and wake her up from them. Neither one of us has been getting much sleep, but it’s been far worse for Devin. I’m kept up worrying about her and where Crystal is hiding and waiting to attack while Devin relives her attack in various forms each time she closes her eyes.
“Princess.” I grip her upper arm and gently shake her. “Princess, wake up. It’s only a dream.”
Devin’s eyes spring open, and she sits up, glancing around the room.
I hate seeing her so scared, so worried that Crystal has somehow made it into the house and is ready to pounce.
She glances toward the clock, as do I, seeing it’s only 7:00 a.m. “At least I made it past five this morning,” she says with a humorless chuckle as she runs her hand through her sweaty hair.
Wrapping my arm around her, I try to pull her down to me, but she pulls away, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she tells me, her back turned to me. “Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”
Anger brims in my chest, and I try to keep it in check. It’s been a week since Crystal’s first attack, and over the last few days, I’ve felt like Devin is pulling away, drawing into herself. She’s not sleeping well, not really eating, and spending a lot of time in the gym. I don’t think she even noticed Christmas was two days ago. We’ve all kind of been walking on egg-shells around her, trying to avoid anything that would upset her.
Sitting up, I scrub my hands down my face and pull myself from the bed. Picking up my sweats from the floor, I slip them on and head for the kitchen. Coffee is definitely a must these days.
Where the hell can Crystal be hiding? There’s a manhunt going on, and yet no one has seen her? Is she hiding in the damn sewer? Devin’s attack made the news, and the public has been alerted to report any sighting of Crystal as she’s considered dangerous. Yet, in a city of eight million, no one has seen her.
My first cup of coffee is long gone by the time Devin emerges from the bedroom.
“Do you want coffee?” I ask.
“No.” She shakes her head, opening the fridge. “I’m just grabbing a water before I head down to the gym.”
Devin never went to the gym before this week, and now she spends a lot of time down there.
“Do you want to eat first?” I suggest, hoping she’ll at least get something in her system first. I promised her father I’d take care of her, yet I can barely get her to eat. It’s clear she’s losing weight.
“I’m good.”
“Devin....”
“What, Sebastian?” she snaps, finally turning toward me.
“You need to eat.”
“What I need is for them to catch the crazy bitch haunting me every second of the day,” she throws out as she places a hand on her hip. “What I need is to not see her every time I close my eyes. What I need is to feel like she’s not watching every moment of everyday, waiting for the perfect time to attack again.”
Her chest is heaving, and I can’t keep my lips from turning down into a frown. I hate this. I hate all of it. But what I hate the most is that I can do nothing to fix it. I hate that I’m the one who caused it all.
“This isn’t healthy, princess.” I’m trying to get her to see some reason. “You spend a lot of time in the gym, and you need calories to sustain that. You’re not eating, and I’m starting to worry.”
“The gym is the only reprieve I get from being in here, and the idea of food makes me sick.” Her voice wavers, and I know she’s feeling a thousand different ways at the moment. These last five days since we learned the truth about Crystal have been pure hell for her. I keep myself too preoccupied with worrying about her to be terrified. I’m more terrified that at any moment, Devin will completely unravel. She’s anxious, frightened, and angry. Her mood swings give me whiplash, but I’ll take it. I’d rather have this argument with her than see her cowering constantly.
She runs her hand through her hair aggressively. “I can’t take this suspense and waiting for the other shoe to drop. We know she’s watching. What the hell is she waiting for?”
Listening to her talk about waiting for the next attack has a harrowing feeling ripping through my chest. I did this to her. My shitty choices to fuck anyone willing has the one woman I love waiting for a psycho bitch to come after her... again.
“I know you’re feeling frustrated—”
“Caged,” she interrupts with fire in her voice. “Caged is more appropriate. We have babysitters. So now in addition to feeling like Crystal is constantly watching, we have giant men standing guard as well. It’s like living in a fish bowl.”
