Page 133 of I’m The Worst

I should get the fuck up and sit in the chair like I did before.

I stare at the ceiling, one arm wrapped around her waist, my thumb dragging absently along her spine.

The storm slams against the hull again.

She shifts with a soft sound, her nose brushing my chest.

“Wolff?” Her voice is rough with sleep.

Her hand slides upward slowly, fingertips brushing over the Sovereign brand burned into my chest. My jaw tightens instantly. The urge to move her hand away hits hard enough that my muscles twitch with it.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.”

Her fingers trace the raised edges of the branding before drifting lower across the stitches in my side. I force myself not to recoil.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Her touch is so light it feels like nothing and everything all at once. After a while, her hand settles back against my chest, palm pressing over my heart.

“Will you teach me…” she trails off sleepily. “That thing you did when I panicked?” My eyes finally shift downward toward her hand. “The grounding thing. When you made me touch you and breathe…”

My entire body goes still.

The ship disappears.

The storm disappears.

And suddenly, I’m somewhere else entirely.

“Jake! They’re coming again!” Miranda’s whisper cracks through the dark.

Panic hits, and I nearly throw up in my cage. I can’t breathe. I claw at the rusted wire wrapped around my wrists, chains rattling while heavy footsteps echo somewhere upstairs. Men laughing.

“No, no, no…” My voice barely works anymore. Days without speaking turns words into broken glass inside my throat.

The basement smells like blood and piss. Cold concrete digs into my knees while my body shakes so hard my teeth won’t stop slamming together.

Jake grabs my arm through the bars. “Dylan. Look at me.”

I can’t.

The basement door upstairs slams open with enough force that the pipes clank. Drunken laughter spills down the stairs.

“I want that pretty green-eyed boy.”

My stomach drops instantly.

More drunk laughter.

“The little bastard cries so nice every single time.”

“Please not Dylan again.” Miranda’s chains scrape against the wall as she tries to reach us. I scramble backward, deeper into the cage, but there’s nowhere left to go. My chest locks so tight I can’t breathe around it.

Jake grabs the front of my shirt harder through the bars, dragging me forward until my face presses against the cold metal between us.