Page 24 of Newton

I'm a coward. Despite my mouth that sometimes opens before I can think about the repercussions, I'm not a fan of getting into trouble. I wouldn't have left the compound a year ago if I hadn't been right at my breaking point. I feel no more healed, isolating myself in this closet, than I did looking over my shoulder as I ran away from the two men who seemed to take so much pleasure in hurting me.

Xan is dead, but his death will just bring on Nathan's rage. I don't know if it was Farmington police or Cerberus that put the bullet in Xan's head, but Nathan will blame me. I'll be the one to suffer the consequences of his son dying.

Everyone came for Beth. They were all dressed as commandos, carrying guns, and wearing bulletproof vests. All of it for her, because someone cared enough to go look for her.

I can't even fathom someone loving me enough to do that.

The only reason Nathan searched for me was because I betrayed him, and he just couldn't let something like that slide.

Chapter 13

Newton

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off the exhaustion I feel after a week of Brielle living in my bedroom closet.

We have a routine. We watch television all damn day and I bring her food.

When I leave in the evenings for dinner, she locks the door and takes her shower. I come back into the room, usually an hour later, to the entire room masked in her flowery scent. I think it's driving me insane. I could set my watch to the routine we've managed to wordlessly set up.

Only last night, instead of her thanking me for dinner and closing the door to the closet, she left it open a crack.

It means she's at least trusting me some, and that's an improvement. I'd never rush her. I'd never swing the door open and give her commands. I know she got enough of that from Xan and Nathan. It's the last thing she needs, and I know that it will only set her back. When you grow up getting hurt, tough love is the least effective thing. It simply doesn't work.

We rarely speak to each other, and I'm mostly okay with that. I'm not exactly a big talker. I'd rather read a book or sit quietly and watch television. I'd rather observe others as they interact than be a part of the conversations.

I don't know if it's my imagination or just some form of misplaced hope, but I swear I can feel her eyes on me when I sit on the edge of the bed.

I don't look in that direction. I don't want her to think that she's doing something wrong.

"I was wondering," she whispers, her face hidden in the shadows. "Maybe I can go for a walk later."

"The clubhouse stays pretty busy all day," I warn her, wanting her to know what she'd be getting herself into.

"Not during the day," she says quickly, and I'm certain this is the longest conversation we've had.

"I'll make it happen," I tell her before going into the bathroom for a shower.

The warm water makes me want to go climb back into bed, but it's her request that makes me realize that can't happen. I have to stick with the routine. Her getting better and losing the fear that keeps her locked away in my closet is the goal. Wanting to keep her all to myself is a little fucked up and can't happen.

She shouldn't have to trade one captor for another.

***

It's well after midnight when I get a text from Max.

"Max just let me know that we're in the clear."

"In the clear?" she questions.

She got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt while I was out of the room for dinner earlier to prepare for her excursion from the closet.

"Everyone has settled in for the night. It's unlikely we'll run into anyone on our walk."

She scrunches her nose up.

"Did you want to go alone?" I ask, reading her reaction as an issue with me including myself.

"No," she rushes to say as if she wanted me to go all along. "How does he know everyone has gone to bed?"

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