Page 37 of Snake

“I won’t apologize,” I tell Knox, crossing my arms so it’ll hide my shaking hands. “You deserved what I did to you.”

“And me?” Silas gets up off his sofa, standing opposite the coffee table from me. He looks a touch paler than usual, and there’s not even a hint of a frown on his face. I realize that’s not a good sign. At least when he’s angry, I kind of know what’s going to happen. How he’ll react. But this? This is like trying to build a puzzle with the pieces turned face-down. “Did I deserve what you did?”

“You love judging us, Nim,” Mason says quietly. “But you’re not very just, are you? Shouldn’t the punishment fit the crime?”

“Should it?” I blurt out, before composing myself with effort. My voice shakes when I say, “No, you’re right. Which one of you would like a big, fat scar on their leg? Hm? And where am I going to find three guys to jerk off on you? What about the leash, and forcing me to blow you under the table at the—” I cut off with a half-sob, half-yell when Knox steps forward and wraps me in his arms.

I fight him, but like a fucking boa constrictor, the more I struggle, the tighter his grip. He kisses the top of my head, keeping his head there as he mumbles, “You’re right. There’s nothing you can do that’ll balance these scales. We owe you a great debt, love. One we’ll probably never be able to repay.”

He pushes me away so he can peer into my eyes. “And that’s the point. How can we repay you if we have to pretend you don’t exist?”

I swipe away a hot, angry tear that escapes my furiously blinking eyes, and shove him hard. His arms fall away, and I slip past him, getting clear of their trap. “You can’t. There’s nothing you can do that’ll make this better.”

The tightness, that sense of dread, returns. This really is the last time we’ll speak. And I have the insane urge to take back everything I said, to tell them we can just coexist, maybe even become friends. But that’s the easy way...and I swore to myself last night that I’m done being a footstool.

“Then I guess there’s nothing else for us to say to you,” Knox says. He lifts a hand to the door. “And no reason for you to stay.”

I don’t know why I’m insulted at being thrown out of Knox’s dorm room. This is what I wanted, right? They took my news better than I thought they would. No shoving me around, no trying to convince me they know what’s good for me.

Besides Knox’s hug, no one even tried to touch me.

So why am I so angry and frustrated when I leave? And why do I take a shower, scowling as I shove a hand between my legs to find even a moment’s bliss?

Because I’m all alone again. And I forgot what a horrible feeling it was.

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