Page 51 of Burning Truths

He needs me as much as I need him. I’m not chained to a bed or strapped down. If I can get to him we can think of a way to get out of here. My eyes close pulling images of a plan from thin air when the sound of someone coming down the hall floats to my ears. Sliding back on the bed I drag the covers back over me using them as a shield. The doorknob turns. A second passes. Another. The door slowly opens revealing brown eyes.

Swallowing the stone in my throat my body automatically sinks against the headboard when he steps through the doorway. His eyes skate over me searching for something, I’m not sure he finds it, but he pauses to close the door, shutting us in the room together. His jaw is clamped shut giving his jawline more of an angle reflecting the struggle he appears to be having. Those deep brown eyes darken, taking a whole new shape under the shadows of his eyes. Fear bubbles in my veins putting me on alert but my heart skips a beat when his expression pinches.

Taking a step towards the bed my hands grip the blanket between my fingers trying to press it so close it’s almost like it’s stitched to my skin.

“Kenna, baby.” His deep voice rolls over my body.

My stare is probing looking for any weakness so I can get past him and run for Hank. He’s the only one who can help me. Licking my dry lips, the action pulls his attention to my mouth, and the look that follows has my blood running cold.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” I snap.

Looking around the room frantically hoping to find something to use if I need to fight him off but I come up empty. He holds his hands up trying to calm me. The irony.

“You-” I choke. “You did this. TO ME.” I yell, my voice cracking on the last words.

My breathing picks up and my hands start to shake. I’m trapped and my skin starts to itch. Stretching over my bones too tight to allow air through my lungs. Everything is too close to me. Throwing off the blanket my legs kick at it until it’s out of reach. My fingers start to pull and claw at the collar of my shirt. I need it off my skin.

“Calm down. Easy baby.” He says. His voice growing further away.

Black spots start to fill my vision shooting dark stars across the room blocking my view of the monster of a man standing in front of me.

“Stop, Kenna.” He orders.

My eyes try to focus on where he is but the tunnel is growing longer. My chest aches with the effort my lungs make to pull in oxygen.

“This is your fault. This is your fault.” My words spill from my lips.

Something wet drips on the back of my hand pulling my attention from the figure at the edge of the bed. Looking down, asmall drop of water sits on my pale flesh. Smearing it away I look above me for the source but a soft sigh distracts me.

“Don’t cry, Killer. Please, let me help you.”

The tips of my fingers drag down my cheek bringing with it the tears that continue to fall. I’m crying. Thrashing my head back and forth trying to shake the pain away I can feel the darkness creeping forward.

“Why? Why did you do this?” I chant.

The words sit out in the open for seconds. Minutes. The door opens and closes. And now I’m alone in the empty room filled with pain and shadows.

See how easy it was for him to abandon you again?

A bone deep exhaustion pulls at my body begging for relief. Sliding down the headboard until my head lays flat I count the marks on the ceiling until eventually I drift off to sleep.

A soft touch trails down the side of my face pulling me from a deep sleep. Rough fingers drag along my temple slowly drawing circles into my skin.

“Open your eyes, Kenna.” A low scratchy voice says.

The voice is wrong. All wrong. The undertone is familiar, tugging at memories, but it’s warped or damaged. My lashes flutter, opening my eyes I turn towards the voice, meeting soft emerald green ones. The air catches in my lungs forcing a cough from me. Twisting away from the man sitting in a grey chair pulled up at the side of the bed my mouth falls open. No words form on my tongue, shock and confusion taking root, I snap my mouth shut.

“It’s just me.” He says, his words gruff.

His palms in the air, a worried stare meets mine, his face the same as the day he died. My gaze takes him in, traveling from his perfect hair down to his neck, stopping on the jagged scar across his throat. A small gasp slips from my lips.

“How?” I murmur, speaking more to myself than the ghost in front of me.

Sitting up against the wooden headboard I pull my knees to my chest giving me a shield to hide behind. Resting my chin on my knees I watch as he looks me over. Bright eyes shift through several emotions before settling on something I can’t pinpoint.

“I’m so sorry, Princess.” He whispers.

Leaning forward he starts to reach out but snatches his hand back when I flinch away from his touch. A dark flicker passes through his expression and I’m reminded why I can’t trust the Stones and anger takes over replacing the fear.

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