Page 43 of Burn for Me

Phoenix wasn’t beside me when I awoke, and hadn’t touched me as he slept next to me either.

Instead of the relief I should have felt, I wondered what had changed.

He’d told me he was obsessed with me, but while I’d laid next to him and awaited the pressure of his warm arms wrapping around me, he’d rolled over and just slept.

You don’t want him.

But you enjoyed being wanted.

Letting out a groan, I flopped myself back onto the pillow. It wasn’t some twisted fairytale. What did I think would happen? That I could fall in love with the monster who took me and he’d suddenly turn into a prince? No. My prince had shot me in the chest and called a monster to burn me.

What a joke.

My life had been pointless. All those lessons in etiquetteand social class, and I was stuck with Phoenix and Muffin in the back of beyond. Everything was for nothing.

And yet, there was peace in the loss too.

My days were empty, but there was no social pressure either. No one to live up to or impress.

Phoenix burst through the door, making me shriek. His mask covered his lower face, but delight lit up his eyes. If I hadn’t known what lay beneath the mask, I’d have thought he was smiling.

‘What is it?’ I asked, curiosity piquing my interest.

He crossed the room and grabbed my hand, all but pulling me out of the bed. A chill hit my naked legs as he dragged me along, down the stairs and out into the misty morning.

‘Phoenix! I’m not even dressed. What are you doing?’

For the first time I was glad there were no neighbours to see me out in a t-shirt and underpants.

We stopped a few minutes from the cottage, where Muffin stood.

‘Oh hey boy,’ I said, reaching out to give his neck a scratch.

Phoenix tapped on my arm before taking an apple from his pocket. Using his bare hands, he twisted it in half before offering a piece to the pony.

I watched, confused by his excitement.

Muffin took the apple from his fingers, before accepting a petting. Phoenix looked up at me, his fingers lost in the shaggy ponies soft fur.

Realisation hit.

All his time on the island, and he’d never touched the ponies?

‘He never let you pet him before?’ I asked, stepping closer and running my fingers through Muffin’s mane. The pony nudged at Phoenix’s other hand, encouraging him to hand over the other half of the apple.

Phoenix shook his head before signalling to his face.

‘You thought it was because of your scars?’

He nodded.

‘It’s more likely because you storm about looking like you’re ready to punch people in the face at the drop of a hat. Animals can sense it. I’m not sure they care much about scars.’

Phoenix’s fingers grazed over the edge of his mask, skimming his scarred cheek and for a moment I saw the boy from the diaries. The fear, the loneliness, the kid who lost everything. A reflection of me. Lost and alone. Alone, but together.

The urge to hug him swept me, the hair on my arms lifting at the thought of willingly embracing him. Swallowing hard, I thrust the urge away, clenching my fingernails into my palms.

Being lonely wasn’t a reason to give into him. He took me. Stole me away.

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