Burn
Twenty-Five
Sharp
Ramon stays for dinner and my aunt reluctantly leaves for work, eyeballing Ramon like he's going to try anything while eating heated-up left overs. I snort to myself as I bite off a chunk from the French bread I'm holding.
Not even Derek would try anything. My stomach twists at the chain of thought. They haven't come over since I got home, not that it matters for Simon or Tori, but Derek...he's got a special place in my heart.
"How have you been?" he asks eventually, snarfing down some reheated lasagna so fast I'm surprised he doesn't burn his tongue.
I shrug. "Here, there," I mutter more so to myself than to him, "and I blacked out and woke up in the woods a while ago."
He stops eating to stare at me with this wide-eyed surprise, his face a still of shock and horror. "What?" he whispers, his voice low and rough. He looks so much like Royce, his dark eyes narrowed and filling the room with his presence, that my throat starts to tighten up.
"I blacked out and woke up in the woods," I repeat, meeting his wide eyes, seeing my reflection in the black expanse of his pupils. "It was the other week. I—" My teeth click as I close my mouth. I want to say I was talking to Royce, you know, the ghost of my abusive ex-boyfriend that's been haunting me for a while but no one, except maybe Rae, knows.
Ramon motions me to continue, ignoring his plate now.
"I hadn't been home when I blacked out. Aunt Lauren had already gone to work, so no one else was home except me. I-I don't even really remember...I woke up and it was dark, like pitch-black, and I hurt all over. I'm pretty sure I looked like I'd been mauled by a cat. This guy came out of the woods and he was all like, 'Are you okay? You've been missing since three.' He said I didn't leave a note or anything...but I don't remember even leaving the house," I explain rapidly, tripping over my words.
He doesn't say anything for a while, just stares off into space while he absentmindedly twirls his fork through a puddle of sauce. Without looking directly at me, he spears several pasta slabs on the prongs of a fork and shovels them into his mouth noiselessly.
I pick apart the french bread absentmindedly, trying hard not to scream when a loud crack echoes behind me. A voice I've been dreading says, calm as could be, "My, my, Chloe. Replacing one brute with another?" My back is stiff and kind of hurts as I straighten and pretend to cough into my sleeve so I can look behind me.
Royce is sitting cross-legged, his hair dripping water down his face, and he's smiling a secret smile that's a bit tight and strained at the edges. It's not that that makes me edgy; it's the look in his dark, almond eyes. A dark eagerness makes his eyes seem all the more dark, like an endless night sky, and I get goosebumps.
"So you blacked out?" Ramon asks slowly, and I have to face him again. A gust of sour wind hits the back of my neck and I know it's Royce's way to get my attention or, at the very least, attempt to.
My lips are trembling minutely with the amount of focus I'm honing on Ramon's dark, curly hair. I can't let Royce get to me and, even if he does, I can't let Ramon witness me breaking down.
"Yeah," I manage to squeak out, clear my throat, try again. It comes out stronger, but still squeaky. "It was the weirdest thing." I try to smile at him but I'm pretty sure it comes out as a grimace instead. The muscles in my cheeks quiver and I feel like I'm going to start crying right there.
"Chloe, Chloe," Royce sighs against my ear, his hand touching the hair on my shoulder, and pushing it aside.
My heart stops when I notice Ramon's wide-eyed stare, his face pinched tight with shock and horror. "Chloe, what—" he starts, his voice low and rough, but a scream escapes me before he can finish because Royce suddenly has his fist in my hair, yanking me up by it. My chair tips backwards as I stumble along.
"Let me go!" I try to infuse my voice with the right amount of animosity and rage but I'm crying too hard to do so; I can't get enough air into my lungs and I'm having a difficult time breathing correctly past my sobs. My head hurts so bad, it's like my hair's being ripped out.
"Chloe, what the fuck is going on?" Ramon asks, his voice cracking on the word fuck, and I start to cry even harder, because I know he'll leave or I'll be shipped off again, to be tormented by the demons hiding in plain sight, to be pumped full of icy sedatives. I can't go back to that; I've only just been released.
"My—" I'm cut off abruptly when Royce drops my hair. My relief is too short, because then he's standing in front of me, his feet just barely brushing the floor, and he's got this mean, ugly look on his face, the pale scars rippling with the size of his wicked smile. His teeth gleam white against his dark skin.
"Chloe, my little Chloe," he sighs and his breath is a breeze that pushes back my hair and makes me sway. It doesn't smell sour anymore, more like a bitter winter chill. Goosebumps break out across my arms as the distinct stench of acid fills the air.
"Leave me alone." The words come out weak and broken as hot tears sear my cheeks with bubbling blisters.
He laughs like I've told a funny joke. "Oh, baby," he murmurs, tracing the sharp outline of my collarbone, "you and I both know I can't. Not until I'm done. Not until she's done."
I don't need to ask who he means.
The answer's already on my dry lips, but I refuse to speak it. A single question burns in my throat.
Not until Rae's done with what?s