Page 34 of Dead By Dusk

“Si—”

“I remember us too.” It’s not a lot, but it’s a start. A slow one maybe, but one that gives me time to piece together another sentence that will make sense. Stepping stones, I suppose. Little bits at a time that eventually create something whole and tangible.

“Pieces of us, really. Not everything.” I can hear his breathing, hear the shakiness as he gets closer and brushes his lips against the skin where his thumb rests on my shoulder before he sets his forehead against me too. The metallic tang of blood and dirt invades my senses, but I welcome it. Welcome the feel of him, even if it isn’t very much. I welcome my own betrayal, as I lean further into his touch.

“I remember why we’re here.”

He lifts his head off me, and I miss the warmth that disappears with him as I realize the water is now cold. Realize just how uncomfortable it is and how much I’m shivering, though I’m unsure if it’s from the temperature or his proximity.

“Why are we here?” No sooner than the question is asked, there’s a creak that sounds out through the house. A creak, long and groaning, on the top step. It breaks me from whatever trance I’d fallen into before both of his hands leave my body. Turning, I watch as he stands, facing away from me before removing the blindfold.

“Ronan, it’s probably just—” Another loud groan invades the eerie silence. The air around us stills as the only sound is the quiet pitter patter of the passing storm and the drops of water falling off of my skin and into the full tub.

“That came from up here. Everyone else is downstairs” Sharp, cool words in a hushed tone. This is the Ronan I remember, the one that I kept my distance from in the start. Atrueleader whose observations had kept him alive when everyone else failed. The one who is always right, even if it is frustrating to admit.

A third deep groan of the wooden stairs gives way and so does a curse from Ronan. Quickly grabbing the towel off of the bathroom counter, he extends it as far behind himself as he can, ensuring his gaze doesn’t fall upon me when I stand. My bare body is completely on display, and yet there’s no sign of him trying to push through boundaries I’ve set to see it. I hate that he’s being so sweet, that his touch has been nothing more than gentle and caring. That in my weakness, he has remained strong. I hate that he hasn’t given me more reason to hate him, even if I already have one.

“Someone else is in the house. Three steps creaked, they can’t be any bigger than me. Get dressed.”

“Ronan, what are you talking ab—”

A scream pierces the air. Loud and terrified and something I’ve heard enough times to know who it belongs to. I’m fumbling to wrap the towel around my body, but Ronan is already shooting through the door, faster than I can blink, and sprinting down the stairs. Three creaks followed by pounding footsteps, and I realize what he meant. He listened to each of us descend the steps in order to differentiate who is who in our comings and goings. Something I didn’t think to do, only noting the way it groaned under my own weight on the first one.

The scream doesn’t last long, before a large thud sounds through the house. Grunts follow before there’s three more bangs, loud enough to echo, in rapid succession.

Then silence. It permeates the air as I wrap the towel around me tighter, grab one of my discarded blades, and step into the dimly lit hallway only illuminated by the bathroom light and trickles filtering in from the downstairs area.

I turn my head to the left, toward the end of the corridor where the only point of entrance is and slowly make my way to the door. Soon, I’m walking through nothing but darkness,relying on my eyes adjusting to make out the outline of the door and knob.

I can’t hear anything or anyone behind me, but I also hear nothing ahead as I grip the cool metal and open the door. The bathroom is just as we left it. Dark, somewhat damp from the dripping water, and the window closed. Sealed.

Locked.

No one able to get in unless they shattered the glass that remains in one piece. This only means one thing. Something I had already guessed, but was ignored when I brought it up. I ease out of the bathroom, glancing at the door that remains shut to the left of me. And when I set my hand upon the knob and turn…it still doesn’t budge. Not even a fraction of an inch. But I know the answer is in there. I know that there issomethingin there.

“Si, what’re yo—” In an instant my trance is broken, and my dagger is leaving my hand and flying in the direction of the voice.

His voice, though it’s something I realize just a little too late, and can only watch as the blade soars through the air as all my breath leaves my body.

17

What Remains Hidden: Ronan

Ibarely have enough time to dodge the blade as it flies through the air, directly toward the space where my heart beats frantically beneath my skin. Just barely, but enough, and it ends up catching the area of my arm that had already been torn through the other day. My eyes are wide as they take in her shocked features before her eyes darken with fury.

Her eyebrows furrow and her cheeks redden before she stomps towards me and begins slapping my arms and pushing my chest while spewing incoherent profanities at me.

“You stupid fucking—How could you even, why the hell—and you’d think, but obviously you didn’t—and what the—” I feel the cold surface of the wall against my back, still wet from the storm we got caught in. The chill that runs through the length of my spine borders on painful as I try to hide any sort of noticeable physical reaction.

I see the rage in her gaze as she continues her mission to bombard me with open and closed fists while keeping me pinned between her and the wall. But I lock on her eyes. Even through the rage, there’s something so ethereal about them. The violence in them. They’re almost like Venus fly traps, ready to draw in their prey with promised divinity before consuming it. The painful truth of loving her is a revelation: she would devour me in a suffocatingly slow death with no remorse as she feasts on the essence I so willingly give her. There’s something to say about the way I would willingly put myself through such pain over and over if it meant I could experience what it was to love and be loved by her again.

“Easy, Killer.” Her movements stop as she throws a glare my way, but I just rest my hands on her shoulders and slowly inch her body backwards. Beneath my palms, I feel her whole body tense when she realizes how close we are in proximity only separated by a towel.

“You scared me, you stupid idiot,” she says, aiming her gaze at the hardwood floor and tightening the towel around her body. She crosses her arms over her chest to hold the fabric in place, almost looking sheepish as she avoids my gaze. I don’t like how foreign it feels coming from her. Not once have I ever seen her like this—ashamed for defending herself—even if it was from me. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed sneaking up on me like that.”

“I could’ve. Thank God you’re a shit shot.” She whips her head back to me quicker than I can blink and that bashful look is quickly replaced with pure fire.Good.Shame is not a feature that was ever meant for her, and as long as I’m around, I’ll ensure it never will be.

“Anyone else would’ve been dead,” she states plainly as we hold each other’s stares.

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