Page 8 of The Aftermath

I close the door and lock up behind me before walking up the steps to her room. I shove her door open slowly to see her lying in the middle of the bed, sound asleep. Tonight, I can’t be the masked man for her. I can’t be what she needs because I don’t even know who the fuck I am today.

When I close the door, she startles. She lifts her head, and our eyes connect.

“What’s wrong?” she asks softly. She must see the look on my face. I shake my head. No, I’m not willing to tell her what I saw. No, I’m not willing to drag her into it. There’s too much pain and darkness.

Angel scoots across the bed and pulls the blankets back as if she knows exactly what it is I need. How can she when I don’t even know?

I walk over and kick off my shoes before climbing in next to her, facing the other way. Angel pulls the blankets up to cover me and then wraps her arm around me, holding me as tightly as she can.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispers. I shake my head. Then I feel her lips press against the back of my head, and I sigh. I shouldn’t be this weak. I shouldn’t feel the way that I do. I should be stronger than this, but how? How do you remain strong after seeing what I saw? How do you go on with life knowing theirs was ruined?

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and those two words almost break me. I close my eyes and pretend I didn’t hear them as I try to drift off to sleep.

It does no good. I’ve laid here for hours. Fucking hours listening to her clock as it ticks by. Angel finally fell back asleep, and I rolled over to face her. Her arm is over her head, lifting her shirt so I can see her stomach. I reach over and run my fingers along her flesh and smile when I see the bumps form even when she’s asleep. It’s as if she knows my touch.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but I’ll find out,” I say as I run my fingers along the scar on her stomach. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe she fell when she was younger, or maybe there’s more to her I don’t know yet. Regardless, I’ll find out.

Chapter 6

Angel

Tamsyn and I sit in the cafeteria having lunch and talking about one of our classes. I feel a little uneasy today, though, and I’m not exactly sure why. I’ve been on edge, and I hate that feeling. Maybe it’s because Silas fucked me with someone else’s finger. That thought lingers in the back of my mind, and a part of me wants to hate it, while another part of me wants to love it.

Tamsyn is talking about a party later, but my eyes catch on something. Not something. Someone. A man. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I stare into his eyes. What is he doing here? Why is he here? How is he here? He was dead. There’s no way he can be here.

“Did you hear me?” Tamsyn asks, pulling my attention back to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“What’s going on with you today?” she asks, looking over her shoulder to see what I was looking at.

“I don’t know, Tamsyn. I’m just on edge today.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing. I woke up feeling like this, and it’s bothered me all damn day,” I admit to her. “What’s the date today?” I ask her, narrowing my eyes.

“The tenth.” A wave of nausea hits me hard, and I grab my bottle of water, trying to swallow back the vomit rising in my throat. I take a quick drink while Tamsyn watches me intently.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She’s about to question me further when I feel someone come up behind me. I jolt, nearly jumping out of my seat, when hands land on my shoulders.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” I hear Silas’s voice and slowly relax.

“She’s been like this all day,” Tamsyn says, snitching on me. Silas drags my body back against his and keeps me held there.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in my ear so no one else can hear him but me. I shake my head.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I’m not. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, or Tamsyn wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Just an off day, Silas. I’m fine,” I tell him, trying to pull away from him now. He doesn’t let me go far, gripping my hips and dragging me back against him. His hand slips under the hem of my skirt and slowly slides up my thigh. That’s where he keeps it, too. Caressing me, trailing it up and down.

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