speaks of a man held with a rope around his neck, faced with the decision to hang himself and save his loved one from the same fate or throw her to the gallows instead.
Is he going to hurt me back in order to protect himself? Or is he going to stand here and take it?
“Oh?” he challenges. “Professing your love and begging me to carve a rose in
your chest was for fun?”
He bares his teeth, and my lungs constrict. “Did you get so good at writing books that you don’t know the difference between reality and your imagination anymore?”
I narrow my eyes. “Stockholm syndrome is real. A human reaction to
someone constantly threatened. It makes sense to trick our brains into thinking we love the person. If only it makes it easier to tolerate them.”
He cocks a brow, unimpressed. And that act is still just as heart-stopping as
it’s always been.
“Does this feel good? Does it feel good to punish me for something your father is doing?” he asks, his deep voice merely a whisper. That small dose of victory turns into a pool, and then a flood as pain lances across his eyes.
Does he hate me yet? Does he feel what real love feels like?
You can’t truly love someone if you’ve never hated them. Two sides to a double-edged sword, and they both cut fucking deep.
“It feels like I’m finally setting myself free,” I spit.
He nods slowly, his piercing gaze assessing.
“And you said you didn’t have daddy issues,” he muses, stepping away from
me. It makes my heart skip, seeing him pull away.
The flood of victory has made its wave through my body, and now the tide is
pulling it back, and I’m beginning to feel the ramifications.
He takes another step away and angles his body towards the doors. A crater
has formed, filling with an ocean that divides us. It’s funny how this is the furthest I’ve felt from him, even when hundreds of miles separated us.
A seed of panic sprouts, but maybe that’s just adrenaline. Because the way Zade peers at me now, it looks as if he’s going to choose himself. He’s going to lash out, and I will be the one left hanging.
“Please, baby, run free then. Show me how far you get before you realize you’re only running from yourself. How long will you last when I possess everything that gives you life?”
My chest tightens, but I laugh, mocking him as he mocks me. “You possess
nothing but a demon in your body.”
He ignores me. “Your heart, your soul, and your very breath. Run, little mouse. This time, no one will be chasing you.”
His last words choke me, and then he walks through my room and out of the
door, softly closing it behind him.
Shit. I suck in a breath but only wheeze when my lungs refuse to work. Shit, shit, shit.
I turn, and work to keep breathing but it feels as if I’m tightening my lungs
further, reducing them to tiny metal wires that slice through my insides with every inhale.
Stop it, Addie. This is the right decision.
Is it, though?
You’re protecting your family.
Then why does it feel like I’ve alienated my very soul from my body? Pushed
it out as if it didn’t belong there.
You don’t need him to survive, Addie.
No, I don’t. I’ve proven that to be true during the months where I was forced
to do nothing but survive. I can live without Zade.
But that doesn’t mean it won’t fucking hurt. That doesn’t mean I won’t live
without a large piece of myself missing. Like losing a limb, I’d always feel him
even when he’s no longer a part of me. Does that make me weak? Dependent?
Or just someone madly in love.
Shit.
I pace the balcony, panic forcing my body into a malfunctioning state. Back
and forth, screaming at myself to run after him, and fear turning my body right
back around.
He could reject me. I was callous, and a complete asshole when he’s shredded
the world apart to get back to me. And what do I do? Push him away.
Fuck. I went from blaming myself, to blaming the one person who’s done
everything for me.
I freeze for a beat, and then drop into a crouch, feeling like a bulldozer just ran through me.
“Addie, you fucking idiot,” I growl to myself.
My parents would’ve been kidnapped and possibly tortured if it wasn’t for him. He knew Claire was going to pull something, checked on them to make sure they were safe, and got us up and over there before they could take them.
Who knows what Claire would’ve done to them? I don’t believe for a second that they wouldn’t have been left unharmed.
Fuck, he saved them, just like he’s done for me, and for hundreds of others.
Such an idiot.
Finally, my gears shift into autopilot, and I race towards the door. It’ll be like
those cheesy romance movies, I assure myself. I’ll swing open the door, and he’ll be standing on the other side, waiting for me because he knew damn well that I was bluffing.
But when I open the door, heart on my sleeve and an apology on my tongue, I
find that he’s not waiting for me at all. He’s gone.
I deflate, and my hope fizzles like helium out of a tired balloon.
No, fuck this. The last thing Zade and I are in is a Hallmark movie.
I storm out of the room, down the hallway, and head towards the steps. My feet carry me down too quickly, and in my rush, I nearly face-plant the checkered tiling, the handrail scarcely saving me. I came two inches from having to confront Zade with my front teeth chipped, and that would have been entirely
embarrassing.
Like instant karma shit that only God would hex me with.
The front door obnoxiously bangs against the stopper, and before I can get wiped out by rebounding wood that probably weighs more than I do, I take off down the porch.
There. Just a hint of Zade’s back remains before he completely disappears in
the thicket of trees.
“Hey!” I shout, hurrying after him. I get close enough to see his chin tip over
his shoulder, only a moment before he takes off into a sprint.
I gasp, affronted by the pure audacity of this man. “Oh, you asshole. ”
You deserved that.
“Shut up,” I mutter to myself. I take off after him, and I just know he’s getting
a sick enjoyment out of reversing the roles and making me chase after him.
He’s giving me a spoonful of my own medicine, and it tastes like ass.