AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I love you,” he says into my ear. I squeeze him tightly and slowly exhale the breath I’d been holding. Then, he tightens his grip on my hair just enough that it hurts and adds, “But I am so fucking mad at you.”
He releases me and stalks toward the vehicle, leaving me alone on the sidewalk, clutching at my chest.
“Ty!” Stella calls after him. She rushes past me, back toward the vehicle.
I give myself a minute to feel it, to sit in it, before I drag myself back to the car, the muffled shouting from inside ceasing the moment I touch the door handle and slide into the backseat. I lean against the window and let the tears fall silently in the dark, the three of us quiet for the duration of the drive.
When we pull into the driveway, I jump out of the vehicle and storm into the house, slamming the front door behind me. Once inside my bedroom, I change into a tank top and a pair of sweats and climb under the covers.
I close my eyes and wish, once again, that this was all just a really vivid nightmare—a sickening alternate reality that, any moment now, will dissipate and I’ll fall back into myself. Into my real body and my real life.
Then, I hear the doorknob turning back and forth on my locked door and scream.
“Mellie? Baby? It’s me.”
I cross the room in two strides and quickly unlock the door.
“I’m sorry,” he says when I pull it open. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I didn’t have a choice!” I shout. “If you want to be mad at me, then be mad. But I couldn’t let you go to prison; I love you too much.”
“I know. But what you don’t understand is that I’d gladly go to prison for you and not regret a single minute of it.”
“I do understand that. I just don’t want it,” I tell him.
He reaches out and places a hand on my cheek. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Can I sleep with you?”
I step aside, and he walks into the dark room. He sits on the bed and removes his shoes, and I slide back under the covers.
“Can I hold you?” he asks.
I nod, and he wraps his arms around me.
“Are you still mad at me?”
“No,” he says. “I’m sorry for saying that. I’m not mad at you; I’m just angry about all of this. I just hate it. I’m mad at myself, too.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I didn’t expect him to just be sitting there when I walked in. I had a plan, but then he was just there. He smiled at me, even, and I just fucking lost it. I messed up, Mel. This is my fucking fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him, holding him tightly. “I’ll never blame you for any of this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t want to give you anything else to worry about, Mel. Just go to sleep; everything will be okay. I promise.”
“Okay.”
I fall asleep with his chest to my back, his breath on my neck just the way it should be.
Safe, loved. But never the same.
I wake early the next morning, slide out of bed while Ty still sleeps, and sneak to the bathroom. I sit on the toilet and stare at the space on the wall where the sign used to be. There’s a dirty rectangular frame stained onto the paint in its place, leaving evidence behind of the lie that used to live there. Still, I prefer it—the dirty stain. It’s more honest, somehow.
After washing my hands, I peel the bandages from my face and turn on the shower. It looks a lot better than it did two days ago, the bruises beneath my eyes now a greenish-yellow hue.
I slip out of my clothes, step into the shower, and just stay there under the spray for a while. Then I pick up my loofa and start to scrub my foreign body hard enough that it burns.
And when I’m finished, and I still don’t feel clean, I rinse off and begin washing my hair. I hear the door creak open and then close, and my heart stops in my chest.
