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Chapter Thirty-Five
Raven
The door slams and I sink to the kitchen floor, sobbing like my heart just broke. Only, it really did just break, all over again.
I can’t believe after such a perfect night, when the future was looking so bright, that today has landed me here. What the fuck went wrong?
I cry until I have no tears left. And then I realise that Phoenix is coming home tomorrow and I have to get it together for her. She deserves to come home to a happy mum who is pleased to see her. I drag my ass up off the floor and start to clear up the remnants of breakfast, discarding the unfinished plates of food that were abandoned in all the drama.
Done, I stand helpless and wonder what to do next. I should shower, right? Only, I don’t want to go upstairs yet. Not a problem, I tell myself. I’ll shower down in the basement. While I’m down there, I decide to have a workout in the small home gym that Rebel had installed. He tried to insist it came with the house, but I’m not buying it. Maybe a soak in the hot tub after would help too?
I head downstairs, snagging some clean workout gear from the laundry room, and getting ready to run. Flight or fight well and truly kicked in earlier, and I could tell that Rebel noticed; I caught the way he moved to the door to stop me from fleeing. Whilst I’m not proud of myself at all for what happened, I do feel a sliver of satisfaction at the way I stood up for myself.
I set the treadmill and begin. Quickly increasing the tempo and the incline to something more challenging, I begin to run. I race until I find a rhythm, until I can’t think or obsess anymore. I run until my body is aching and tired, and then I push some more. I keep going until the physical pain replaces the emotional pain, and then continue some more.
I run until I collapse, exhausted, on the floor of the gym. I know it’s not healthy, but what else can I do? I lie on my back panting hard, trying to catch my breath and wondering how I’m going to get up.
Eventually, feeling returns to my legs and I’m able to get up and grab that shower. Only, I don’t have any clean regular clothes down here. I’m scared if I put clean gym gear on, I’ll start running again. I wrap myself in a towel and realise that I’m going to have to go upstairs to my room to get changed. I can do that.
The problem is that to get to my room, I have to pass that room. I tremble on the stairs as it draws closer. I should go in there. I should face my fear. It seems insignificant now, to be scared of a room, when your whole world is crumbling around you. A room should be the least of my worries.
I bypass the room, get dressed, do my hair, procrastinate in any way I can until I have no choice but to return. My palm is so slick with sweat, it slides from the handle a couple of times. My hand grasps the handle but it takes several extra attempts for me to actually work up the courage to pull it down and open it.
The room is transformed, I expected that. But what I didn’t expect is what it has been transformed into. I was expecting new sheets, maybe a new bed and carpet if I was lucky. I just wanted all traces of blood removed.
What I’m staring at instead, is my very own library.
Which just makes me cry all over again. Damn it. And damn Rebel for being so perfect. He literally thinks of everything.
I close the door as I leave the room to explore in depth another day, and wander aimlessly around the huge house. I hate it. I hate how empty it is. The guys are all such big personalities that they fill the massive space. Even when it’s just Phoenix and I, she’s such a character that she makes this place home. Now I feel like a giant pinball rattling from room to room, trying to stay up, but with no end destination in sight. I don’t belong.
I head back down to the lounge but I can’t get comfy; too many good memories of last night. The kitchen is tainted. I have no need to go in the dining room. Instead, I take myself out to the conservatory that’s filled with Phoenix’s toys. I’m glad that we didn’t use this space much before; it means it isn’t tainted like the others.
I take a seat in the corner and stare at the vast amount of toys that she has. We never had that many before - certainly not enough to fill a whole room - and I realise that the guys must have been shopping. Probably Rebel. I should thank him.
I pull out my phone but the words die on my fingertips. I can’t text. I’ve no idea what to say. How would I even begin to go about putting things right with him? With any of them?
So I curl up in the chair and pull up the book I’m reading on my phone; it’s about a woman who doesn’t have to choose between the guys who love her. Guys plural. She doesn’t have to deal with any of this shit though - her story is much more straightforward. I sigh, but soon get sucked into her happily ever after. I long for one myself, and it’s easy for me to transpose myself and my guys into her storyline.
It’s dark when I come out of the story. Early hours of the morning if my phone is reliable. Shit. I don’t know where the time went. My stomach growls - unsurprisingly as I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I wander into the kitchen but I just don’t fancy anything in the fridge, other than a cold glass of pop. A pint of ice cream probably wouldn’t be the best choice right now.
I check the cupboards and find a cake tin that I definitely don’t own. I pull it down and prise off the lid. Inside, wrapped in tissue, with a note addressed to me but written entirely in Slovenian, are two dozen cookies. I smile because Ace has clearly squirrelled these away for me, and actually that’s just perfect right now. I snag six and grab that pint of ice cream from the freezer to dunk them in.
I’m standing at the kitchen island scoffing them down when I hear a noise. Freezing, I tell myself not to panic. It’s probably just the boiler kicking in. At 2am? Yeah right. Another bang has me reaching for my phone and hitting that app icon that Jax showed me last night. He never did talk me through the rest of the security in the house. The camera shows there’s no one at the front door, but I didn’t really expect there to be. Hitting some other buttons on the app randomly pulls up cameras in other parts of the house but there’s nothing there. I try to relax and tell myself it’s nothing, but I hear it again.
The reaction is violent and instant; I shake so hard my spoon clatters onto the counter. My breathing becomes shallow, sharp little gasps that hurt my chest. My vision darkens, blurs about the edges. The room sways, swims…fuck.
If this morning hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have hesitated to call one - or all - of the guys. But I don’t. I can’t. It’s most likely nothing, and if I call them they’ll come jumping to my rescue, and if it ends up being a false alarm, they might accuse me of attention seeking. Of forcing them to forgive me. Of luring them in under false pretenses.
My heart races and a cold sweat breaks out all over me. My hand trembles again as I reach for my glass of pop.
Should I investigate? Stay put? Run?
I slide a knife out of the draw closest to me and grip it’s reassuring weight in my right hand. I can do this. If I have to, I will defend myself. I will not be a victim ever again. I won’t freeze. I won’t be helpless.
My phone is ready to call 999, I just have to hit connect with my left. I keep my thumb poised and ready to go.
I sneak towards the stairs and see a light coming from upstairs. Fuck. Did I leave that on? I don’t remember. It’s coming from that room.
