Page 48 of Newton

"A cop?" I ask, and she freezes as if she somehow managed to forget that I was even here with her.

"Maybe," she whispers. "They hurt so many others in front of me but they always stopped before a final breath was taken. I know there had to be some that would've died from their injuries because some were so severe, but I never saw them actually murder someone. Nathan didn't trust me enough for that."

I feel the warmth of her tears as they leak from her eyes. I know how cathartic it can be to talk about your past, but I also know how traumatic reliving those tragedies can be as well.

I had a horrible early childhood, and, although I knew it was not even close to how awful some people have it, I think it's very possible that Brielle's history could possibly be the worst story I've ever heard.

A lot of people suffer from neglect, and for the most part that was my story, but she had men in her life who actively sought her out to use, abuse, and hurt her. They were genuinely evil men, and it makes me realize that Xan got off with a single bullet to the head a lot easier than he ever should've been.

Silence fills the room, and it's like the folks in the living room can feel the heaviness from inside this one because there isn't so much as a whisper of sound infiltrating it now.

If I could take all of her pain from her, I think I would offer, but although the concept of it might be a decent thing to offer, knowing it's impossible makes me keep my mouth closed.

Instead, I pull her tight against my chest and press my lips to the top of her head.

I can't even assure her that she'll always be safe if she's with me, and I think making empty promises is an utter waste of time.

We could easily get lost in each other's bodies and pretend that there's nothing in the outside world that will hurt us, but trying to get lost in the fantasy of a perfect world would be detrimental to both of us.

Disappointment and the acceptance of it are vivid parts of reality. It doesn't make us pessimists, and anyone who has ever hurt until their bones ached from abuse and neglect would quickly agree.

"He vowed when I ran away the first time that he'd hurt me once he tracked me down. He followed through with that promise even though I only snuck out of the house to go to the movies. The second time he vowed that if I ever left the house again, he'd kill me, and I know he'd keep his promise. He said he knew he couldn't live without me, so his death would be on my hands. I think he wanted me to think about those consequences as if I wanted him to stay alive. He really is crazy. I honestly believe that he believes that what he’s done to me in the past is necessary for me to be successful in the life he created for me."

He wouldn't be the first crazy person I've run across in my lifetime.

"I imagined forcing him to kill me or killing myself a million times just so he'd die too," she says, her words coming out on a sob, and it makes me think that she believes it's the only way to put an end to him and the harm he's causing others.

"Men like Nathan Adair are too narcissistic to end their own lives," I explain. "They can't imagine a world where they don't exist."

I say this because it's true but also because I don't want her trying to martyr herself for the sake of others. If anything Nathan Adair would seek vengeance against anyone who was connected to her. That fucked-up pain he'd feel at losing her would be focused on others.

"All he'll do is seek vengeance for your death," I say because she needs to know.

The fear of losing her sinks inside of me, turning my stomach.

"Let us worry about Nathan. Men like that don't get to live very long once we're involved."

She pulls in another deep breath, and I get the feeling that she wants to argue with me, but she doesn't make a sound. Fifteen minutes later, her body relaxes and I can tell she's fallen asleep.

Maybe tonight she won't wake up screaming.

Chapter 24

Brielle

It's been a month since I washed Xan's blood from my body, a month since Nathan vowed his retribution.

That's a very long time in a world that consists of just hanging out and watching TV. I haven't left the clubhouse other than to sit by the pool and look up at the stars a handful of times. I haven't had the urge.

Beck holds me every night, and when I'm in his arms, I can let myself get lost in the idea that I'm safe and protected. The fleeting hope is usually shadowed by those whispers in the back of my head that keep reminding me that I'm unlovable, not that Beck has even hinted at feeling that way about me.

We only talk in the darkness, when the moon is the only light witnessing our words, and by talk I mean I make confessions and he listens.

It was so painful at first, to confess my flaws, but after a while, it grew to be cathartic, and I ache through the day, thinking of the things I could whisper when the sun finally went down.

But tonight feels different. There's another ache inside of me, one that has built since the night he used his mouth on me.

He hasn't made any moves since then despite our closeness and the way he presses into me when he's asleep.

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