Page 24 of Lotus

I’m taken off guard when Oliver jumps up and grabs me, then pins me down to the ground by my wrists. His face hovers above me, drinking me in. It’s dark, but I can see his features twist from blind rage to shock and horror when realization sinks in that I’m not the bad guy. He loosens his grip on my arms, his eyes darting across my face, making sure it’s really me.

Oliver doesn’t get up right away. With his eyebrows pinched in conflict, he looms over me, our chests and groins pressed together as we both intake heavy, volatile breaths. Our eyes are locked, our bodies trembling from the fight, an effusion of emotions scattering to the surface.

Police sirens cut through the moment, and Oliver shakes his head, quickly letting go of me as if my arms manifested into flames. He jumps up, scalded, landing beside me and scooting backwards until there’s a considerable distance between us. I sit up, still breathing heavily, still a mess of anguish and fear and confoundment.

I was just attacked. I could have been raped. I’m caked in blood from my busted lip, and I can already feel a bruise welting on my jaw.

And Oliver Lynch rescued me. The man unable to even touch another human being just fought off my attacker without a second thought.

“You saved my life.”

My words are a hoarse whisper, my voice ragged from the screams.

We sit across from each other on my bedroom floor, staring at one another through the cover of darkness, listening as the sirens grow closer.

Oliver responds so softly, I almost don’t hear him.

“I always save you.”

S E V E N

ICAN STILL HEAR HER SCREAMas I hold the ice cubes against my bruising knuckles.

The last few days have been a whirlwind of flashing lights, law enforcement, questions, probing, statements, and a showering of gratitude for my heroic actions.

It’s all a blur—the days, hours, minutes, bleeding together into a giant, fuzzy fog.

But her scream stands out.

According to Gabe, Sydney has spent the last few nights with her sister, so her house sits dark and empty next door, brimming with the horrors that unfolded three nights ago. I can still see her staring up at me with frazzled breaths, her eyes wide, her hair a tangled mess, her bottom lip cracked open and oozing blood. I may have saved her, but it wasn’t enough.

In my own stories, I am quicker. Stronger. Braver. She never looks at me with blood-tinged tears streaking her cheeks, frightened and shaking, permanently branded with an ugly stain.

I feel like I failed.

Gabe’s voice penetrates my dark musings as he shuffles into the kitchen, mussing his hair with his fingers. “How’s your hand healing up?” he inquires, opening the refrigerator, staring inside for a solid thirty-seconds, then closing the door.

“Favorably.”

“Sweet. Keep icing it.” He opens the door again, inspecting the contents, almost as if something may have magically appeared. Gabe sighs his disappointment and shuts the door again. “Want to grab breakfast?”

I frown, puzzled by the request. Gabe usually has cereal for breakfast, so I open the top cupboard and grab a box off the shelf.

He mimics my own bewilderment as he takes theLucky Charmsfrom my hand. Then a smile pulls at his mouth. “Shit, sorry. I meant, did you want to go out to eat? You know, like a restaurant?”

Oh. I toss the melting cubes of ice into the trashcan and slip my hands into the pockets of my blue jeans. Gabe ordered me new clothes all the way from the Amazon, and they fit remarkably well. And they arrived much quicker than one would anticipate for such a lengthy travel.

Pondering his suggestion, I clear my throat. “I don’t know. That sounds… complex.”

The only time I left this house was when I had to give a statement to police officers, detailing Sydney’s attack and describing the villain who harmed her. He was a faceless man, just like the villain in my own comics. The whole process was harrowing and uncomfortable, and I much prefer staying inside and keeping to myself.

“Come on, it’ll be great,” my brother urges. “You need a good dose of the real world—one that doesn’t involve police stations.”

“I suppose it’s inevitable, yes?”

“If you want to experience life, then, yeah. We all need to step outside our comfort zone if we want to grow and learn.”

I find myself nodding, despite my hesitation. After years of grieving for a world I thought was lost, I should be celebrating the fact that it’s not. “All right.”

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