Page 127 of Encounter

His dark eyes darted over my face, so intense I worried they would burn through me, until finally... a spark came through.Dropping his hand, he made a step back and let out a shaky exhale, while I touched my neck.

Thank god.

Backing away, Chast stared at the floor, eyes widening and breaths growing deeper. “T-They killed her.” As much as his detached, murderous side scared me, the anguish pulsing through his voice now tore my heart apart. “They came here and killed her.”

“Chast,” I whispered, quickly stepping in to touch his arms while he started completely unfolding in front of me, eyes filled with tears.

“She’s gone, s-she’s—” He turned around to look at her before I could stop him. “She’s dead. No, no, it...”

I need to fix this. I need to do something.“We-we need to get out of here, right?” I squeezed his hands, trying to get his attention. Chast twitched and snuffled, staring at the floor for a moment before turning to me, nodding. “Okay, we—”

“C-Can’t leave her here. Can’t... We can’t leave her, Galen,” he murmured, panic growing in his voice as he shook his head.

I held him back when he tried to look at her again. Cupping his hot cheeks firmly, I forced him to look me in the eye. Pulling myself together with all my might, I cleared my throat. “Go... Go to the bedroom and I’ll... I’ll get her down, p-put her in something.” The thought itself made me sick, but Chast couldn’t do it. No, it had to be me. I couldn’t put him through that. “Is there a place we can go?”

Though his gaze was empty and somewhat distant, he nodded. “Gregory,” he whispered, voice monotone, tired.

“Good. Okay. Come.” I dragged Chast into the bedroom, making him sit at the end of the bed. He slumped over, shaking hands held in his lap as he stared at them.

Knowing I didn’t have much time—and worrying about Chast changing his mind and getting back on the warpath—I closed the door behind me and rushed into the utility room. I remembered seeing some old shoe boxes there when I cleaned up.

Grabbing a random towel from the drier, I put it into the box and froze, realizing what I was really going to do with it. The image, existing mere inches away from me, assaulted my senses, and there was nothing that could stop me as I bent over and vomited. My head spun, so I grabbed onto the shelf next to me and shut my eyes tightly.

I pictured Chast’s devastated face. His pain, radiating from those beautiful, brown eyes—raw and heart-wrenching.

I had to do this for him. He needed me.

I held my breath and stood, turning around to the scene. “I’m so sorry,” I whimpered, doing my best to not look right at her. Hovering my hand over the knife, I hesitantly gripped the handle and pulled, but it was too deep in the wall, so I had to use more force.

God. I know nothing about gangs but... this is a message, right? A warning. How did they find Chast? What did he do?

I’ve never experienced anything this fucked up. These were the people that cut Chast up. How dangerous were they really?

When I yanked again, the knife finally slid out of the wall, making me fall on my ass. I yelped as Kitty’s lifeless body hit the floor, forcing me to close my eyes and avert my face. Flaring my nostrils in discomfort, I let out a deep, trembling breath and tried to calm down again.

You have to do this.

I took the towel, quickly wrapped it over the body, and gently placed it into the box. After covering her, I closed the lid and pressed my lips together. Tears pooled in my eyes as I remembered all the times Kitty came up to me chirping. I knew that if I let myself think about it for a second longer, I was going to break down too, so I jumped up.

I headed back to the bedroom, opening the door slowly.

Red and puffy, Chast’s eyes fixated on the box under my arm. He stared at it, mouth hanging half open while his lips quivered under his beard.

We should go,I wanted to say, but the words didn’t leave my lips. Instead of rushing, I carefully sat next to Chast, shoulders touching, and put the box on my thighs. I felt how tense he was, but I had no idea what to say to make him better. Instead of speaking, I gently brushed my hand over his and wrapped our fingers together, squeezing it. The exhale he let out was strained, like he did all he could to hold it together.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed, voice shrouded by shame. “I-I’m sorry for putting my hands on you. I—”

Hushing, I pulled him closer by the back of his neck for a soft kiss. “Don’t worry about it.” I watched the rest of his mask crumble. Watched that strong person unfold next to me, crying into my side as he wrapped his arms around me, tremors passing through the otherwise rigid body.

I didn’t say anything.

I let Chast pour it all out until his hyperventilating sobs turned milder, and he finally pulled away from my hot, wet embrace.

“We have to go,” he said, getting back some semblance of his firmness. Before we walked out of the door, Chast grabbed the dagger, taking it with us as evidence.

?

The drive was quiet. Somber.

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