Page 88 of Knight

“You do.” He smirks. “A lot.” I wriggle against his hold and when he sees me horking up another one he lets another threat through, “Do it again, Medusa. You’ll end up like the old man.”

A gasp escapes my lips and after that attempt at intimidation, I sure as hell let another one fly. I pull against his hold at the same time and when he loosens his grip, I collapse against the floor. He’s on top of me, staring into my eyes. “This is what you wanted, right? Me? My trust for yours in return? Well look at me Medusa, I’m a monster.”

I bring my knee between his legs and give one hard tug. “Fuck!” he screams. But that gives me enough leverage to get away.

He’s right.

He is a monster.

“That’s right, Medusa,” he calls, and knowing what the word means, I never want to hear it again. “Leave! They always do!

“It’s Jo!” I scream walking down the steps and grabbing my backpack. My voice echoes in the foyer as I rummage for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Pulling it on as quick as I can, a familiar lump grows in my throat, tears building in my ducts. Taking my jacket off the floor, I grab my phone from the charger near the door before I look up at him. He’s looking at me from the second-floor staircase, glass in hand, eyes glossy but he doesn’t say anything. So I do. “You fucking deserve it!” My voice cracks and before he can see any more of my emotions, I’m moving out the door.

Snow hits my nose when I get outside and it’s already dark. Checking my phone, it’s almost midnight. Calling Henry tells me the Archinalds gave him the holidays off so it’s a Christmas Uber for me. Damien doesn’t come after me and for some reason, that makes me even more livid as I stand in the cold, Docs in the snow. It’s only now I realize my shirt is inside out as I pull my leather jacket around me. The last week starts replaying through my head and I’m tempted to go back in there and give Damien more of my mind. But why? What the fuck what that change?

A bump in the snow makes me trip. I hold my hand out for balance as I make my way to the gates. I want away from this place. Every time I come here, every time I’m around Damien it only makes my life worse. So why do I still crave him? Why do I still wish he’d come out here, throw me over his shoulders and make me stay?

Once the Uber arrives, the drive back to the Archibalds’ is slow in the snow. I keep my fingers tight around my phone the entire time, staring out the window at the snow-covered firs. I’m stupid for checking my phone every couple of minutes, waiting for his name to flash and tell me how right I am and how wrong he is. But I’m praying for rain in a drought. Chances are, that won’t happen.

The Archibald house is empty when I get there and I’m not even sure what I was hoping for. A Christmas tree with the Archibalds drinking eggnog around it? A lavish party to take my mind off my woes? Hell, I’m even willing to put on a stupid poofy dress if it gets my mind off everything.

“Hello?” I call out for good measure.

All the lights are off and the place is dead quiet. Eery. Vincent doesn’t even pop around the corner with a sassy remark. Dropping my bag on the floor in the foyer, my chest feels like it’s closing in. Stumbling to the kitchen, I reach for a bottle of water, glugging it like I’ve come back from the desert and it kind of feels like I did.

Depraved and lost.

Delusional to think that Damien King would be anything other than what he is.

A devil.

It’s going to take some sorcery to get him out of my head but I’m going to try. Damn it I’ll try.

* * *

I’m not sure where the Archibalds’ went off to for the holidays.

And I don’t want to ask.

The rest of the week I’m left to my thoughts in a big empty house.

When Willow calls, I tell her some bullshit about Cabo I find online. I text Allie here and there but I’m not surprised her responses are sporadic. Christian doesn’t answer.

Damien hasn’t texted or called and I’m starting to think this is it. We’ve reached the end before anything even begun.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

Groaning I crack open an eye. My room smells like old pizza, alcohol and whatever stench my body’s giving off. My head aches like it has been the last six mornings and I’m starting to get used to this feeling. Damien must feel like this all the time. Is that why he’s so fucking psychotic?

I groan again, realizing the devil is still on my mind. I’ve drunk through a handful of bottles, the only thing to put me to sleep. I’ve tried burying my woes in junk food I’ve got no appetite for. I even tried rummaging around the house for any clues to no avail.

The only thing that’s been keeping my mind off Damien is finding out what happened to my parents. If it wasn’t an accident, who’s behind my parents’ death? Damien’s been my greatest distraction but he won’t be anymore.

Bzzzzzzz! Bzzzzz!

My phone sounds like it’s vibrating off the nightstand and I hold my hand out to catch it. Bringing it under the covers with me, I hold my breath like I do every time I look at the screen.

Willow: Look at the hats we got for NYE!

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