Author: Cheryl McIntyre

Sleep eludes me. I watch the hours spin by as I imagine everything I want to do to Loden Guiles. I want to make him pay for what he did to Annie.

I want to destroy him.

29

Who I Am Hates Who I’ve Been

Annie

When I wake up in Chase’s bed, I panic. My heart races because I realize I didn’t perform my nightly facial routine. As I touch my fingertips to my cheek and feel the heated skin I begin to panic for a whole new reason. Everything floods back in, every single second of Loden’s fury.

Dread sinks into my muscles, weighing them down. It squirms its way through my veins like poison before settling heavily in my stomach. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

I sit up quickly and hop off the empty bed, thanking God Chase’s roommate isn’t here. The door opens just as I’m reaching for the handle and I jump back. Even though I know it’s unlikely, I automatically expect it to be Loden—pissed off and ready to finish what he started last night.

I deflate like a popped balloon when I see Chase’s face. Relief doesn’t even come close to describing the feeling that overtakes me. My knees tremble and I close my eyes for just a moment as my blood pressure slowly returns to normal.

“You weren’t here,” I say hoarsely.

Chase’s hazel eyes catch the sunlight streaming through the window as they focus hard on my face. I must look like a complete mess. I turn away, letting my hair fall over me like a veil.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice is soft and low, and…careful. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

I hear the crinkle of paper and then I notice the smell. Fresh baked bread and coffee. My stomach grumbles in response even though I don’t feel hungry in the least.

“I picked up some breakfast. Bagels and Starbucks. I got you that caramel drink you like.”

I twist slowly, trying to peek around my hair. I don’t want him to see me. Bruised and smeared make-up. I know I look hideous and he’s the last person I ever want to witness me like this. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower first?”

“And then we’ll talk, right?”

I close my eyes again, this time to pinch back tears. I nod. “Okay.”

He holds out his hand, offering me my cup. I take it with a trembling hand, ignoring the dried blood caked on the top of my fingers.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He doesn’t step back. He does nothing to move out of my way and my stomach twists with alarm. I know—I know Chase would never hurt me, but it’s engrained in me now. Etched into my body. Tattooed into my muscles like second nature. My physical reaction is not my own. No matter what I tell myself, it responds out of habit.

“Can I…?” He lifts his hand and I step back quickly, but he keeps coming, slipping his fingers under my hair to push it out of the way. His eyes meet mine and hold them. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters gruffly. “I just want to see.” His thumb trails over my cheek like a first kiss—cautious and gentle, and asking for permission. I don’t give it. I can’t. I don’t even know how right now.

As much as I’d like to stay here all day with his fingers soft and light on my face, as much as I’d love to invade his space and press myself into his arms, I just can’t do it. I take another step back and hurry around him. I hear him say my name like a question, but I keep going until I’m on the other side of the bathroom door.

~*~

After a long shower where I’m forced to use generic boy shampoo and community bar soap, which is gross, I put on my same dirty clothes. And that is even grosser. I try to not let this bother me, and maybe it wouldn’t have, but there are stiff spots of brown along the collar of my shirt. I pretend it isn’t blood.

Luckily I carry a brush and emergency make-up bag in my purse. Unfortunately, I left my purse in Chase’s room.

I keep the towel close to my face, pretending to dry my hair as I make my way back to Chase’s door. I don’t even consider knocking because he knows I’m here. I turn the knob and he’s standing at the foot of his bed, back—toned and tan—to me. And he has a sexy back. Lean with a defining line running the length of his spine. His jeans, low on his narrow hips makes my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. I’ve seen all this more times than I can count over the years, but it always makes my insides quiver. He somehow manages to get better looking with each passing day.

I pause, my eyes glued to his back, and wonder how messed up I have to be to feel so much desire after what happened last night. I should be completely turned off by men—I know I can’t think about Loden in any way without feeling nauseated—but I’m not getting that same feeling with Chase. I never have. But I thought Loden was going to kill me. I honestly believe he wanted to. And here I am, just hours later, wanting to jump Chase.

That’s crazy, right?

No, there’s crazy, there’s fucked up, and then there’s me. I’m all alone on this level of insanity.

I push the door, letting it shut a little louder than I normally would. Chase glances over his shoulder before pulling a new tee shirt on. Finding my purse, I take it over to the bed and begin the process of concealing Loden’s handiwork. Hand, fist, whatever.

Cover-up doesn’t quite cut it, so I add a layer of base, which I typically stay away from because it clogs pores, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. I bought this bottle after the first time he hit me. I look down at it now and promise myself after my skin heals, I will never use it again.

By the time I’m finished, you can’t even tell my face is bruised. There’s not much I can do about the lip. The swelling isn’t too bad, and hell, I don’t mind a fuller lip, but the split is ugly and noticeable. Lipstick stung when I tried to apply it, so I decide to forgo that idea.

I click my little compact mirror closed and find Chase watching me.

“If I didn’t know it was there already, I wouldn’t ever have noticed,” he says, motioning to my face. “How many times have you done this before? Covered it up.”

“You don’t want to know,” I murmur dismissively because, truly, he can’t want an answer to that question.

“Yes,” he clips out, “I do.” I watch him cross the room to me. He locks his arms over his chest and puts one damn determined expression on his face. “How many times has this happened to you?”

Some people—probably most people—wouldn’t notice the slight distinction of his words. But I notice. He doesn’t care if Loden’s done this a hundred times. He just wants to know how many times he’s done it to me. Such a small difference, but it means something so enormous. At least, to me, it does.

“Do you want the number of times he hit me or just the number of times I had to wear an extra layer of cosmetics?” I’m circling around the question, I’m fully aware of this, but the ugly truth is, I don’t know the number. I know when it started. I know it happened a lot. And I know last night is the last time I’ll let him do it. I can’t believe I ever considered telling Chase all this. It’s too hard.

Chase’s jaw tightens. I hear his teeth grind against each other and it makes me cringe. “Don’t do this. Don’t pull this shit with me. I want to know everything he ever did to you.”

“Why?” I ask. “What does that accomplish?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. I just need to hear you say it.”

“What? That Loden likes to beat the shit out of me? There. It’s been said. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We need to call the cops.”

My head snaps back. “What? No.”

“Yes. He can’t get away with this.”

“I can’t go to the police. I don’t want to. He has money. Lawyers. It’s pointless. I just want to move on and forget it ever happened.”

“Are you going back to him?” he asks, his voice lowers in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s not anger. It’s something deeper. Scarier.

“No,” I breathe.

His eyes flick over my face, searching. “How can I trust that?”

“You just have to. I’m done letting Loden control me.”

“You have to understand I’m uncomfortable taking you at your word. You lied to me before. You can’t pretend like it never happened this time. I’ll tell Guy if I have to.”

“I’m not going back to him,” I say adamantly.

“What makes this time different than the rest?”

“Because he did this after I broke up with him,” I explain, the words bursting from my lips. “I told him I didn’t want to be with him anymore and I meant it this time. I told him it was over. Really over. Because I deserve better. And he wasn’t happy about it.” I point to my lip, not needing to emphasize it for Chase, but giving it to him anyway.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He lowers his head and works his fingers through his hair. “What happens now?”

It’s a fair question, but I’m sick of not knowing the answers. I shrug, shoulder my purse, and push myself off the bed.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“I need to change and study.” And cry.

“I’ll come with you,” he says, plucking the keys from his desk. “You wanted to talk about something yesterday before all this happened.”

“I don’t know if I can right now, Chase.”

He steps closer to me and I want to back up, but there’s nothing but a bed behind me. His eyes move over my face once again and I notice the way his throat shifts when he swallows. “Well I don’t know if I can let you out of my sight right now, Annie.” He touches his fingertips to mine and I’m caught off guard by the contact. My head snaps down quickly, gazing at where each point of his fingers connect to mine. I’m so lost in the emotions that attack, I almost don’t notice when he adjusts his hand, cupping mine in his palm.

“I wanted to tell you about all this. I wanted to tell you I was breaking up with Loden… I just can’t have this conversation now.”

He closes his eyes a little too long to be considered a blink, but when he opens them again, he smiles. “Let me come over,” he says, his voice taking on the usual playfulness he typically uses. I realize it’s been a while since I’ve heard it. And I miss it. “We don’t have to talk. I’ll just be decoration. A sexy decoration for you to look at.”

I roll my eyes, trying not to laugh. I nod my head at the door and he grins. I’d smile if my face didn’t hurt because, even though I can’t tell him, I feel better knowing that I won’t be alone today.

30

Everlong

Chase

I see missed calls and texts when I grab my phone on the way out, but I slip it into my pocket without a second thought. Anything I missed last night can wait.

I follow Annie back to her dorm. It takes a little longer than usual because apparently it snowed sometime during the night. I love snow. Not just looking at it, but the idea of it. It blankets everything, making it new. Cleansed.

That’s how today is going to work, I decide. It’s a new day. A fresh start. For Annie. For me. And maybe, just maybe, for Annie and I together.

I’ve only been inside Annie’s dorm room a couple of times. And on both occasions, I was in and out pretty damn quickly. As I step inside this time, I take a minute to look around. It’s clean in here. Organized.

“You know,” I say, “if you ever want to come clean my room, you’re more than welcome.”

She snorts, ignoring me. I slide a book off her shelf and flip through it quickly before putting it back.

“That’s not where it goes,” Annie says. I regard her with a cocked brow and she sighs. Leaning around me, she shoves the book back into its designated space.