Burn

Twenty-One

Trek

Since I'm considered extremely dangerous and destructive, I'm sent home, where there will be nothing but sour memories and brown bananas because Aunt Lauren didn't make banana bread that one time before I got shipped off.

My skin is prickled all over and my nipples strain against my flimsy tank top.

Aunt Lauren makes me wear her old-lady cardigan, which hangs just above my hard nipples and has a plunging neckline since I have no boobs to speak of.

Derek stares out the window the entire ride, his finger tapping out an unfamiliar beat on his muscular thigh. He hasn't spoken a word to me since I tried to stop Royce and he keeps to his side of the seat, glued to the car door like he's terrified of me.

Maybe he is.

He refuses to look in my direction, his eyes trained pointedly at the scenery outside.

I wonder what's going through his head as I watch his face, the tic in his eyebrow, the flutter of his eyelashes with every blink.

It's cold, and I'm shivering, wrapping my black-lined arms around myself, feeling the shivers shaking my belly.

Aunt Lauren is asleep, wearing her cardigan again; I'd gotten too hot.

Something warm drapes across my back and I inhale the familiar smell of sweat and pine .

Huh.

I peek a glance at Derek, finding him now dressed only his t-shirt, and then I look down at the sweater hanging on my body, dark green and four sizes too big.

"Aren't you cold? You know, since you've got veins full of ice," Royce yells in my ear and the kid driving frowns when I jump, my heart lurching into my throat.

Acid builds up in my esophagus, bitter and burning, and it hurts to breathe, drying out my throat.

"Guess you're still pretty skittish," he laughs, pressing the palm of his hand against my shoulder, burning through the sweatshirt hanging off my shoulders, frostbite creeping across my arms, my chest, branching out in long tendrils. It's like sticking my body against a huge ice cube, shockwaves rolling up and down my skin, making it painfully numb.

I'm shivering, trying hard to sit still while ducking out of Royce's grasp.

Derek glares at me out of the corner of his eye, shifting closer to the door.

I sit on my hands and hunch my shoulders against Royce's icy, burning touch, making myself as small as possible, unassuming.

Royce wraps his arms around me, his front to my back, and I wish I was back in Lyle House; he never touched me while I was there.

His hands slide along my arms, tracing the stitches holding the skin together, and then down my sides, against the sides of my breasts.

I'm blinking back hot tears.

"Chloe?" It's Kit, leaning over the backseat to brush my hair away from my face.

I tuck my chin against my shoulder. "Fine, fine, dandy." I whimper under my breath as Royce lurches through me, sending a cold jolt through all my veins, electric, fiery.

He tumbles and his foot connects with my jaw, blood bursting in my mouth.

I gag on the metallic, salty taste and hold a hand against my mouth, lunging over Aunt Lauren to roll down to the window and spit the mouthful out.

She jerks awake, shouting incoherently. "Chloe, baby!" she gasps out in a whispery voice and pulls me back into the car. "Don't do it!"

"Do what?" I ask, dazed as I lean back into the seat, hitting Derek.

He promptly elbows me off him, his elbow digging into the space between my ribs, and I pull back.

Royce has vanished into thin air again, leaving my head spinning wildly out of control as Aunt Lauren strokes my hair, whispering to me quietly.

Derek snorts. Without turning in our direction, he hisses, "She thought you were trying to off yourself." He wipes his palms against his jeans, like he's sweating profusely, and his jaw tightens, muscles bunching up under the skin.

Although he hasn't turned, I can imagine his eyes, hard and sharp like shards of glass, glaring out from beneath his lank bangs.

Swallowing convulsively, I twist away from him, curling in on myself. I loop my arms around my legs, curled up against my chest, and feel my heartbeat thud against my boney knees. A low, mellow pain pounds through my jaw where Royce kicked me, and I don't have any doubts that it's red from his shoe.

"I wasn't," I say meekly as I rest my forehead against the cool covering of the seat, icy against my blazing skin.

My mouth still tastes metallic, lining my teeth with flecks of blood, and I take a sip out of a cloudy water bottle I find under the seat; the water's stale, a bit warm, but it washes away the bloody saliva still inside my mouth.

Derek's knee is inches away from mine and I can't tear my eyes away from his jean-clad leg. Even through the denim of his pants, I can feel the heat wafting off him, a human radiator, and I want to nuzzle into him, to thaw out my frozen fingers arms legs.

Clenching my jaw, I glare against the sun's bright light so I don't do something really stupid, like crawl into his lap and kiss his mouth so hard that our teeth click or slide my icy fingers underneath his shirt to feel my skin again, and close my eyes.

I'm tired, my eyelids bobbing.

Sleep is like sweet oblivion.

A hand is squeezing my bicep, nails digging in.

I can't even open my mouth to scream before another pair of lips, chapped and cracked and dry, cover mine, swallowing the air from my lungs, teeth pressing against mine. The hand is squeezing tighter and tighter, cutting through my skin.

"You're so pretty, baby. All this softness for me? You shouldn't have," a voice whispers, dry words carried on cracked leaves, laced with venom. "I love you so, so, so fuckig much."

I open my eyes to find Aunt Lauren leaning over me, her pendant swinging over my nose as she goes to wake me up.

My mouth opens and a scream, high pitched and loud enough to make my ears pound with sharp pressure, escapes me.

"Royce!" His name's too hot and bitter on my tongue.

Aunt Lauren pulls back, startled, and smacks her head on the window. The bags under her eyes are obvious, but she looks relaxed, relieved. A few strands of hair, too short to fit in the bun that looks ready to cut off her circulation, glow in the sun.

I pull myself upright, panting for breath, and twist my head away from her, so she can't see the tears in my eyes, the wide-eyed expression of pure terror on my face.

The sun's glare flashes into my eyes and I squint, spotting the familiar house before us. Too many trees, a square patch of green grass. Sleek lines, shiny windows, all of them dark.

The house where I met Derek.

I suck in a short breath through my clenched teeth.

"We're home," she says, choosing to ignore my scream.