Page 39 of Stitches

We knew his power moves.

He showed up with nothing of importance to say. Just a wicked smile and a few words to remind us who the hell he was and what he was capable of.

I think it was safe to say we were both sick of his shit. I still hadn’t told the guys what had happened in the facility. I knew it would start a fucking fire I didn’t have the capacity to put out, and I didn’t want to make our lives worse. Now wasn’t the time to say shit. We needed to get ourselves sorted before we could go plotting the murder of our old man.

I stared up at my ceiling, my chest tight. Before all this shit, I hadn’t been the anxious sort. That was more of an Ashes thing, but as of late, I was really taking the crown on that shit.

Knowing that sleep would evade me, and I’d suffer tomorrow for it, I rolled over and popped one of those pills into my mouth I’d been given by Janice and swallowed it down with the glass of water on my bedside table. I’d taken it earlier in the day. It still made me feel heavy and weird, but all meds did that shit to me until I got used to them.

Rolling over, I went back to staring at my ceiling.

I wasn’t sure how long I was lost in my thoughts on life, Sin, and angel, but my door cracked open, sending a sliver of light from the hallway into the room. I crinkled my brows as I looked to see who the intruder was.

My heart stumbled in my chest when Sirena crept into the room, the door clicking closed softly behind her. With my breath held, I watched her through the moonlight streaming into my room as she approached my bed.

Wordlessly, she crawled into bed and cuddled against me, her head on my chest. The breath I’d been holding whooshed out of me when she twisted her fingers in my t-shirt, her warm body pressed against mine. She was doing things to my body I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever simply by her nearness.

We lay in silence for a long time before I finally spoke.

“Angel?” I croaked out. “What are you doing? Is everything OK?”

She’d gone to bed with Church. Ashes had come home, and we’d hung out in the living room watching TV in silence until he’d gone to bed, his head hanging. I knew we were all suffering the loss of Sin, and I was dealing with my own shit, but he’d seemed exceptionally sad tonight.

It was killing me that I couldn’t fix this. It didn’t matter what I did, our lives were fucked now.

She said nothing, but I didn’t expect her to just come out and speak to me.

Silence was my answer, but she didn’t pull away from me. Instead, she snuggled closer, her fingers twisting tighter in my shirt like she was scared I’d float away if she loosened her hold.

Guilt flooded every facet of my being as flashes of not saving her swept through my mind. Of her tears. Of the way she trembled when Asylum fucked her. The fear in her eyes because she knew what we knew. We had an audience. Sick men were behind the glass, getting off on the pain we caused her.

I swallowed hard, my body tense as I tried to hold back the sob that threatened to erupt from my mouth.

She lifted her head, and I saw the tears on her cheeks.

She was crying.

My baby was sad.

“D-don’t cry, angel,” I whispered, my own tears spilling down my cheeks in a silent stream. “We can’t cry. OK? We can’t.”

She shifted and pressed her soft lips to my cheek, crumbling my heart just a little more. I wanted so much to kiss her back, but it didn’t feel right. I felt like a thief who had stolen from her and didn’t deserve the shit she wanted to give to me.

It was torture in the purest form.

I’d failed her when she needed me the most. I’d been weak and had fallen. Had I been able to hold my shit together, I’d have been of more use to her. Instead, I’d been a basket case right beside her and it had fucked us both. Her quite literally.

Fuck.

My throat ached and burned from trying to hold back the wild scream that threatened me.

She moved back down and laid her head on my chest, her fingers twisted in my t-shirt once more. I didn’t touch her back. It didn’t feel right. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I love her so fucking much.

I’m a failure.

I tried. I tried, angel. I swear I did. But I fucked up. I always fuck up. Weak. I’m so fucking weak. It’s my fault. I couldn’t save you because I wasn’t strong enough to save myself. Your love isn’t what I deserve.

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