The following shifts of time where not easy for me to deal with. I just couldn't understand! Evan had untied me, he'd released me from the tether that'd held me so long and all I'd done was sit there. Even if Evan would have just grabbed me and hauled me back, even if my dumb ass attempt at getting away had pissed off the larger man to the point he finally got the hint I was not his pet and he'd finally broken me like the fragile thing I was, I should have fought. I should have run. Or… shuffled as fast as I could…
I should have done something ! But I'd done nothing. I'd sat there. I'd let him collar me. And a few moments inspection, when Evan had left, was enough to tell me I wasn't getting out of the collar. I'd pick my fingers raw and bloody before I scratched through the leather of Evan's collar. And the lock was not going to come off without a key. Or something to pick it with. And I only had my nails. I was screwed. I'd screwed myself. Fucked myself over, yet again.
And wasn't that just fucking fabulous?
True, as despondent and desperate as I was becoming, I didn't want to die. I didn't want to risk it, not knowing whether or not I'd come back. But… I didn't understand. I'd died before. Lots of god damn times. Not exactly sure about my fate after death or not, I shouldn't have hesitated. An Evan coming after me, infuriated and outraged at my shit behavior, was an Evan I could understand. An Evan I could get. A steady part of my existence I could hold unto and count on. But a me that wasn't willing to taunt and tempt killers into irrational action was a me I didn't recognize. I didn't know myself.
Why?!
Why had I sat still?! Why had I done nothing?! Why had I behaved?!
No answer presented itself to me with the slow passing time. No answer, no explanation. Just the endless, nagging question clawing at the back of my mind and running in circles through it in ever-shifting, but ever-repeating forms. And Evan. Evan holding me every night. Evan coming to check on me every day. Evan grunting and prompting me to walk for him when his visits found me in the same spot, the same limp, unmoving position as when he left me.
Evan.
Evan my only company. The one who fed me, the one who held me. The one who'd murdered me countless times without mercy or consideration. I snuggled into his chest at what passed for night and gripped his shirt in that place, that certain place, so I could feel his heart under my hand. I waited for him to come back to me during the Entity's replicated days and I wondered what he did when he wasn't with me.
Evan.
He was all I had and I hated him.
But I still let him do what he wanted, let him have his way. Walked when he said, "Get up, Saboteur," in that rumbling voice behind his mask. Lay still and silent when he wanted to see my leg and didn't complain when he yanked my pants off as if I were an unresisting doll. It didn't matter. Evan wouldn't do anything but treat me and I didn't offer complaint of any kind for any reason.
For the first few days after the shift from cuff to collar, I just sat slouched on the bed, head hanging and mind crawling. Always blurrily surprised when my hand crept up to pick at the cuff, only to find it wasn't there. To encounter only the soft line of bandages covering cut skin. I would stare absently, not understanding, at the white material, until memory stole over my mind and I raised a hand to the collar.
Part of me always suggested picking at that, but Evan was right. I was less inclined to scratch at something life threatening. Like my neck. Despite it all, I still had that want to bloody well fucking live. And I wasn't ready to risk perma-death because the Entity was being more of a jackass than normal.
I wanted to live.
And I wanted to get free.
And all of that brought me right back into another cycle of why.
I'd done nothing to get free the once chance I'd had. I'd just sat there and let Evan tether me. Allowed myself to be tied back up in the most humiliating way.
Like an animal.
Why?
Why'd you do it, Jake? The fuck's wrong with you?
It wasn't like me, what I'd done. It wasn't like I was afraid of pain or death, exactly. They were just things that got in the way of getting what you wanted. You had to keep doing shit, had to keep moving, had to keep fighting and scratching no matter what happened. If you got yourself dead in the process, well, at least you'd tried. You'd gone down snarling and smarting off.
Only I hadn't. I'd willingly given in, and I was clueless as to why.
How long my internally lacerating and tumbling, repetitious thoughts turned me round and round, I wasn't sure. Time had left me behind long ago and got itself lost, while I quickly fumbled my grasp on the one real, solid change in my captivity. I only knew my wrist healed up and my leg kept improving under Evan's insistent eye.
Because Evan was insistent. He was relentless. Whatever he wanted, he wouldn't let me rest. Wouldn't just let me sleep. When I proved myself to be unresponsive those first few sputters of Entity generated time, Evan seemed to become fed up with me and my shit to the point, he would manhandle me upright if I didn't listen to him. He would purposefully annoy me until I snarled at him and did as I was told. Which was usually to get my ass off the bed and move around, or to eat some god damned food. Against my will and desire to just fucking mope, Evan kept making me walk, kept making me hiss at him, until I started doing it out of reflex. Until I started gaining back part of my old attitude towards him, par force.
Damn, irritating bastard!
Part of me wanted to bite him again and not be sorry about it this time. I didn't though. I glared at him and snarled when he got too close, but I always behaved in the most deprecating way. Ultimately always doing as told, while awake, and crawling into Evan's embrace when it was time to sleep, and not understanding any of it.
I would spend what might amount to hours out where time mattered, staring up at Evan with narrowed eyes, wondering just what the fuck. How had I ended up with Evan of all people. Evan, the Trapper. Evan the first of the killers. Evan, the one who was taking care of me. How had I got here? With Evan? Tied to his bedpost like a little bitch.
But wondering did me no good.
Behaving did me no good.
Laying still and silent, while Evan tended my ever-improving injury did me no good.
Only… what? What was I supposed to do?
I had about as much answer for that question as I did for the relentless why. Any other time I would just be a little shit and try to piss off whatever killer was around. But Evan was the only killer around and he… didn't… want… to… kill… me… I didn't know what the fuck he wanted. I didn't know and I hated it!
Sometimes, I would end up punching a pillow over and over again, growling in frustration through clenched teeth. Only, my little bursts of anger seemed to leave me as listless as the depression still hollowing out my insides. It was hard to move when Evan wasn't around. Hard to move when he wasn't there to encourage me with rough, hot hands to, "Get moving, Saboteur."
It would have almost been nice to be biting mad more often, but I never seemed capable of holding the emotion, of keeping it captive. All too quickly, the feeling would dissipate out of my grasp, leaving me tired and limp, curled around a pillow for comfort, an exhausted ball of survivor, as weary and achy as if I'd stupidly stuck my leg into another god damn bear trap.
Confusion and depression were a combined state of being I decided I did not like existing in. It wasn't exactly one I was used to being in. Everything that'd happened in my life taken together, I couldn't remember ever being this unsure of what to do with myself. I'd always known exactly what I didn't want to do before and so always done just the opposite, imaging that must be what I did want to do. But not even this system worked with Evan in this situation. I didn't want to cuddle him, but I'd become all too used to the sound of his heart pounding in my ear as I drifted off, and the feel of that heart under my palm while I slept.
Why?
Nothing made sense as I drifted along through the Entity's no-time. Nothing but that need to do something. Anything. Even a small resistance to mitigate the pattern of my obedience.
The thought haunted me, clung to me, wore me out. An insistent and bitter thread woven through every moment Evan was there and every one he was elsewhere. It was worse when Evan was there, though. A sharp pang that leaked all through me, adding to my lethargy and confusion, and hitting its peaks in those moments when Evan examined my leg. Touching me with those hands that could kill but were somehow concerned with my wellbeing.
He'd long ago taken the bandages off and the stitches out, his attention going to feeling the muscles under my skin and how they flexed below large, but dexterous, fingers, but he still took off my damn pants, despite the fact rolling up my pant leg would now give him all the access he'd need. He still half undressed me with the ease and impatience of an efficient man, unwilling to take shit from a damn, little pest. A little pest who couldn't help looking down at him from under the arm I braced myself on, with my face hidden in a pillow, so he wouldn't see me watching him through my lashes. Wouldn't see the little trembles in my arms folded under the pillow. The shivers that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with something I couldn't explain.
Evan had manhandled me and treated me like a fucking doll since he'd pried apart his bear trap and slung me over his shoulder, like so much dead weight. But he'd never tried to make those touches more intimate, never shown any interest for anything but my torn up leg. For all his cuddling and comfort, he didn't push for more. He could have, he could have got whatever he bloody well wanted and I couldn't do shit about it. But Evan only followed the lines of my near-healed injury with his fingertips and focused all of his considerable attention there, until he was satisfied. He patted my thigh when it was done, rumbling from behind his mask, "You're doing well, Saboteur." Either words of praise or words expressing the state of my once-mangled leg, I wasn't sure.
Wasn't sure…
There were a lot of things I wasn't sure about. Why was Evan doing this? What did he get out of it, aside from a grumpy, uncooperative me, who'd already bitten him once? Did he not find me attractive at all?
The last question struck me out of nowhere and I curled into a ball around the pillow I clutched, once I had my pants back on and Evan was up and moving. He glanced at me and murmured, "There's something wrong with you," and I knew it likely wasn't in my best interest to lay so listless and clearly apathetic with Evan nearby, but the thought I should want Evan to find me attractive had shorted out something in my brain.
Was I bloody stupid? What kind of god damn idea was that? It was a good thing Evan hadn't tried to touch me. It saved me the trouble of having to bite and scratch and piss him off enough to see if the Entity really had decided to be a dick and up and left us to roam around its realm until we kicked it for real. I should have been grateful!
But all I was was still curled in that ball when Evan came back with my food. He dropped it on the table with a grunt and was half turned away when he must have noticed I wasn't moving. The larger man paused and pivoted on his feet, movements surprisingly graceful and quiet for his size. He fixed me with his flat, appraising gaze and I tucked my face further into the pillow, curling tighter around it, as if for protection, but it was impossible to escape Evan's burrowing glance. No matter what had happened in the approximation of time I'd been with Evan, I'd always moved to eat. I'd always padded across the expanse of bed, to the edge near the table to claim the food he brought for me. Always. Until now.
I didn't want to. I didn't want the tasteless food. I didn't know what I wanted, but moving from my curl around that pillow scented heavily of Evan, of me, inexplicably of us both, was not what it was. And that… that small thing, that small resistance, what was something I could deliver.
Whimpering low down in my throat, I made myself as small as I could. A tiny, confused knot of survivor, eyes squeezed closed, wrapped around Evan MacMillan's pillow. Uncertain of what he would do. Of what I wanted him to do. Of the fact I perhaps wanted him to do anything.
And Evan's words seemed to speak my heart. "There really is something wrong with you."
Wrong with me… yes. Something wrong with me and I didn't know what. Didn't know anything but that Evan was kneeling on the bed and reaching for me. The bed sank under his weight and his hands threatened to turn me over, to tear me from my huddled ball, and I hissed at him, eyes springing open to lance him with venom. And open worry.
"What's going on, Saboteur?" Evan murmured, pulling me toward him.
Snarling, or was it whining, I fought to remain tight around that pillow. Hard and unyielding and anything Evan didn't want. But Evan was stronger than me, had always been stronger than me. He pried me apart, wrenched me off the pillow I clung to like it was some stupid life line, and despite how I fought and scratched and hissed, I still ended up on my back with Evan pinning me down.
The man held my wrists above my head, one in each hand, and his knees pressed my trembling legs into the mattress, so I couldn't flail and kick him. Admittedly, the weight on the leg I'd injured was minimal, but the leg still spasmed under it. All of me so quickly worn out by the short engagement. And yet… it didn't seem I was the only one. We both panted, looking at each other. Breaths ragged, eyes weary. And… and something else. Something I didn't want to admit, but that Evan noted all the same, his placid face and flat gaze betraying only a flicker of what he felt.
My pants were tented and my face flushed with more than anger and exertion and Evan knew it. He bloody well saw it! It wasn't hard to see…
"So, that's what you want, is it?" Evan rumbled, and I wanted to deny it. Wanted to pretend I didn't want Evan to have an interest, to have some god damn feeling for me, but I couldn't. My eyes were blown wide and my heart cried out affection, affection, affection with each rapid, unsteady beat.
I'd wanted to do something and I'd fought Evan and now I… I didn't want to fight. I was tired. I wanted hot hands on me. Wanted warmth. Wanted… Evan's hands…
Helpless under the man, it wasn't like I had much choice. I just lay and breathed and watched him. Waiting.
But Evan just shook his head and grunted. "I don't think so, Saboteur." His hands loosened on my wrists and his weight shifted off my legs. "Not without your asking first."
A snarl worked its way up my throat but something else came out through clenched teeth when it found its way to my mouth. "Fuck me!" The words were followed by a whine, a real whine, as my face crumbled down into surprise and wounded uncertainty. My eyes, soft and shocked, met Evan's appraising ones. I'd done so much to not speak to him and the words I'd finally said were ones I'd never thought I'd utter to Evan. I might have hauled a fuck you at him, but the reverse, spoken as actual invitation…
There's something wrong with you…
The words were whisper but I paid them no mind. All of me was shaking and I turned my head away, trying to hide from Evan the only way I could, with him still holding me down. But hiding from Evan never proved effective. His lips pressed up under my jaw, pushing my head up and making my pulse jerk under his probing mouth.
I'd never really been tasted like that before and I didn't like it. It left me feeling vulnerable, my throat exposed, and I wiggled and whined, wishing Evan would just shuck my pants off like so many times before when he tended my leg.
Maybe my discomfort showed through. Maybe Evan noted the noises coming out of me weren't enjoyment and the flutter of my pulse wasn't excitement. Whatever it was, the larger man stopped. He made a soft rumbling sound, almost a purr, and pulled back. His hands let go of my wrists, then brushed and skimmed down my chest and stomach, to my hips. I raised those pathetically, and Evan took the message, pulling off my pants and letting me turn over.
Because I wanted that. I wanted my face in the pillows and to not see Evan. Unconsciously, I gathered a mound of softness below my face. I pulled it to me and raised myself on my knees with legs that still trembled. Get on with it, was a thought I harbored. Words I'd tossed at David when he wanted foreplay and I wanted fucked. Words I constantly saw stung him but that I spit out anyway. Couldn't hold back. Get on with it. So much could be summed up in those words.
But I didn't say them. Not to Evan. And he did what he wanted. He didn't speak to me, maybe knowing I wouldn't like that, either. Instead, there were soft sounds and a scent I recognized behind me. Something from Evan's traps. Whatever he used to keep their small parts operating smoothly. I hadn't thought of a lube, hadn't anticipated one, but it made sense Evan would have this with him. Likely he carried it for trap repairs. Now it was for me.
His hands were hot on my hips, angling me how he wanted me, but they were even hotter slicked and exploring me. My hips jerked and stuttered, while Evan moved his fingers in and out, but I didn't make a sound. Just held myself still, with my face buried in pillows. My silence didn't even change when Evan switched from fingers to something larger. I just knelt there and took it in with weak legs and slitted eyes.
All that altered was the rate of my breathing, as Evan rocked me forward into the mattress, his hands sliding over my hips to wrap around me and hold me up. As if afraid my injured leg would give out and pitch me forward. I didn't care. I kept my mouth shut, apart from little gasps and huffs while I strained into it all. I could feel Evan behind me and I could feel every link of the chain connected to the collar around my neck dragging me down. Dragging me… seeming to pull me down into the folds of sheets beneath me. So soft as my mind dimmed around the edges.
How long it all went on, I wasn't sure, but Evan didn't bother to touch me until after he came, and that was just fine with me. By that point, Evan's wide, hot palm grasping me and easing me into oblivion was more than relief. It was mind-numbing and essential. Hard, dripping, Evan only needed to stroke me a little to have me clenching down around him, where he was still inside me, and finally having me crying out like I was in pain.
My mind hazed up and went dark and all I could remember were Evan's hands running up and down my back, under my shirt and over every ridge of my vertebrae, careful, almost reverent, while he murmured, "Little wild thing," to me over and over before I lost touch with reality.
I came to in Evan's arms, of course. It was as near as it ever came to day in the Entity's realm, and I was dressed and not sticky with leftover, tacky fluids from what my heavy mind recalled doing before I'd inadvertently lost consciousness. A thing telling me Evan had not only cleaned us both up, but courteously dressed me before pulling me into his arms, tucking me to his chest, and letting us sleep.
Heavy. My body was as heavy as my mind. Weighted. And achy in all the ways one would expect after what I couldn't deny I'd done with Evan MacMillan. Simply laid there and let him fuck me. Asked him to do it even.
Why had I done that?
The answer was inexplicable. As ungraspable as all the other whys I had no explanation for. Had no way of understanding. I'd done it and that was that and Evan was breathing slowly at my back, his exhalations ruffling my hair. His body warm against me. Solid. And I rebelled against it.
I struggled limply in his arms, hot, angry, exhausted tears pricking my eyes. Sobs worked their way up my burning throat and I clenched my teeth against them, as I fought to keep the liquid from spilling out. I didn't want to cry, damn it! I didn't want this! I didn't know… know… what I wanted.
Evan felt my weak stirrings and made a sound of annoyance over my head. A sleepy, huffing sound of half-wakefulness that said he did not wish to move yet, and wanted the pest of a wild thing he was holding to be still and let him sleep. Maybe I would have, maybe I wouldn't, but Evan gave me no choices. Yet again, he reminded me of the differences in our sizes and maneuvered me so quickly I hardly noticed what was happening until it was done. Abruptly I was turned, so we were suddenly no longer laying with my back to his chest, but chest-to-chest. The big man pulled me tighter to him and murmured something intelligible before settling back into full sleep.
Held that way, unable even to squirm more than inches any longer, all I could do was let my head fall back and stare up at his face. His face so much nearer to me than I ever wanted or expected it to be because the only way I ever thought to see it this close was right before he put an end to me. Things tangled up in my mind and something constricted my chest. I drew an unsteady hand up his chest to that place I pressed my ear to at night. Evan's heart pulsed against my palm, calm and rhythmic and familiar.
So familiar…
This was Evan.
Evan who had pulled me out of one of his traps. Evan who cared for me and patiently bound up all the stupid, dumb-ass things I did to myself. Evan who had killed me so many times I could no longer recall them all.
Evan.
Evan, the name whispered through my mind on a whine and I pressed my cheek to his chest, rubbed it against his shirt, teeth clenched so tight I felt my jaw creak. I didn't want to think about Evan. I didn't want to understand just what the fuck I'd done. I wanted to sleep… sleep with that heart in my ear and Evan's arms warm around me. Sleep until the tears stopped rolling down my face and my heart stopped aching as though it were being torn to ragged shreds.
It was all too much, but it was warm with Evan's arms around me and I willed myself to sleep.
After, Evan took me from behind almost every night before we slept. I didn't mind it. With my face buried in my arms and Evan buried in me, I could almost forget Evan was more or less doing this because I wanted him to. Almost let myself feel this was an answer to all the whys. Almost pretend this was what Evan had wanted all along.
Almost.
But not quite.
Because Evan never touched me unless I initiated. Never moved beyond his relentless cuddling unless I asked for it, unless I crawled into his lap or pressed myself to him or put up a fuss in his arms until I got my way. Got what I wanted.
What I wanted…
Why… did I… want… that… with Evan?
There's something wrong with you.
The words were a whips through my mind every time I saw Evan. Every time I lowered my eyes and rubbed up against him for attention. A whips… A pang. A lure that would have made hiding in the almosts a welcome delusion if the reality called Evan MacMillan hadn't persisted in tearing apart my pleasant lie. Evan was still an enigma, what he wanted still a mystery, and I knew it, couldn't avoid it, even if I tried. The almosts were pointless in the face of it all. Evan was always consistently and obviously happy to have me if I wanted it, but was otherwise just there.
There watching my leg slowly continue to mend. There not hurting me, but not exactly being kind, either. Just… doing whatever he damn well wanted, with no explanation. Just continually making me eat, making me walk, minding my leg, making sure all the intricate parts of it worked according to design. Just being Evan. Being the ever-intent, meticulous killer who'd stalked me numerous times… Just, minding me as the Entity's un-time spun on and on and I lost ever more of a grasp on it. Lost hold, lost touch, lost it all in a blind, numb haze.
I wasn't even aware of when I gave into the lull of blurring now, became tangled in the insistent instant. Wasn't conscious of when I stopped thinking about getting away, stopped thinking about the others and the campfire and roaming through the fog. Didn't realize those things had slipped from my thoughts and through my fingers and all had turned to all the moments Evan wasn't with me and all the consuming seconds he was, and I curled against him, his body warm on mine. Didn't understand it, until he made me.
My leg had been fully healed for some amount of time I couldn't identify. Didn't care to identify. All I knew was I could stand and I could walk, when Evan told me to, without thinking about it. Without it hurting. Occasionally, the leg would throb or ache for no damn reason, but for the most part, it was like I'd never gone and stuck my leg in a fucking bear trap like an idiot. Evan still checked it, still ran his fingers over the ridges of scars, but he didn't have to do anything with it anymore, and his attentions had taken on a different rhythm, a new texture, as if they were reflective and Evan wasn't sure about stopping even if there wasn't any reason to continue.
I didn't think about it. Didn't care. Something was broke deep down, snapped, and all I felt was a low, staticky buzz in my mind. It didn't even register something different was happening when Evan came in, took off his mask, sat on the bed, opened his arms, and commanded, "Come here, Saboteur."
It wasn't often Evan demanded cuddles during what passed as day in the Entity's realm, but nothing made sense and I didn't care. I just whined, dropped my gaze, and went to Evan. He held gathered me up like I had no weight at all and held me on his lap so long I fell into a twitching doze, gripping his shirt in tight fingers, with my head drooping on his chest. Warm and Evan and lulling normality.
Until it wasn't. Until it was something else.
I came awake to a slight weight removed and a subtle shift in the feel of my body. I frowned at it, brow knit, lips turned down, eyes shut, and fingers gripping Evan tighter. What was it? Too long relying on internal instinct for survival had sharpened some perceptions down in me and I felt uneasy not knowing what had happened. But Evan was still holding me and surely that counted toward nothing being wrong. Didn't it?
"I know you're awake, Saboteur," Evan rumbled above me, and I made some soft sounds of annoyance at suddenly being put down on the bed.
Half inclined to hiss and toss an aggrieved glare at him, I sat up, my eyes springing open. The hiss died on my lips and I found myself blinking in confusion. Blinking in an uncomprehending daze. Between us, resting close to my fingertips on the sheets, was the collar and chain. The collar was open.
Trembling, my fingers moved to touch the leather and fell short. Evan had taken my collar off.
Evan had…
My vision fractured and doubled, doubled again, and I felt myself falling. There was the half sensation of Evan catching me and words that rolled together over me, unheard, but once again, as when Evan had first found me and carted me into his house, my mind and body had agreed enough was mother fucking enough already, and they weren't going to take anymore. They were going to turn off, take a break, hit pause, and all I could do was go along with it.
I didn't know what the fuck and I couldn't hack it right then. Didn't even want to deal with whatever was going on. It took Evan shaking me and tapping the side of my face roughly with a finger to bring me back.
And even then, I didn't want to wake up.
I was mostly draped over one of Evan's massive arms, stirring weakly, half laying in his lap again, and starring blurrily up at him. Evan grunted disgust and shifted me to sit at the edge of the bed, demanding, "Get up, Saboteur."
As shaken as I was, I had no notion of refusing and swayed to my feet. Evan would have only forced the matter if I hadn't. Grabbed me or tossed me over his shoulder or… or…
Or what? I questioned. What did Evan want, and what would he do if I didn't give it to him? I raised weary eyes to him and found the man watching me, gaze indecipherable as ever.
"Come on, Saboteur," he murmured after a moment, and I stumbled to follow him. More because my legs were unsteady then stiff or pained. Only to pause when my keeper opened the door and eyed me. Curious if I would bolt.
I didn't. Staring unblinking instead, until Evan sighed and told me to, "Come here, Saboteur." I did and I stuck close to Evan's side, jumping at the slightest sounds, all through the MacMillan manor and over the grounds, to the edge of Evan's territory, where my silent guide stopped.
Unreality was a blanketing wave that wouldn't let me make sense of this, wouldn't let me process, god damn it, and I just kept looking between Evan and the fog, where it undulated and swirled slowly so close by. Head jerking back and forth, while my body went on trembling and I whined something low in my throat.
How long this would have gone on, how long I would have just stood there like a jackass, if Evan hadn't taken control of the matter, I'm not sure. But the larger man was never one to let situations drag and he took me in his huge hands, turned me toward the fog, and gave me a little push.
I tripped a few paces forward because Evan was never exactly gentle, then spun, dizzy, to face the man. Might even have taken a step back toward him if he hadn't growled, "Go on. Get out of here."
Uncertain, confused, I stood wavering a moment. Go on. Get out of here. They were the words one would say to some small, sharp-toothed animal. Some wild creature that'd been injured, taken in, and made too accustomed to being cared for. Words delivered to tell that near-tamed thing to leave. To remind it its place was outside. Had always been outside.
Go on.
Get out of here.
Unwanted.
That would stung something deep in me and I took a step back, watching Evan with wide, unsettled eyes, still trembling, saw him stay impassive, steady, fucking uncaring, took another step back, turned, and bolted into the fog like there was a killer on my heels.
How long and how far I ran before crumpled up from physical exertion, something I was no longer used to, was incalculable in the Entity's realm. I went until I was heaving breaths so hard my chest ached and my heart was beating painfully against my ribs. Until I was good and truly lost for once. Lost in the fog and tired and—
My knees seemed to give out and I sunk to the ground.
Evan… had let me go, let me free, let me out! But why?! Why had he done that?! Any of that?! Why had he pulled me out of his trap?! Why had he taken care of me?! Why had he just let me leave?! Just what the fuck was this?!
I didn't understand, god damn it!
Any of it!
Didn't he want anything?! Didn't he want me?!
My arms snaked around my chest and I tucked my face into my scarf, my teeth clenched hard against tears I didn't want to let fall. Nothing felt right, nothing made sense but it was cold without Evan's arms around me.