Page 83 of Paper Thin Love

“Don’t worry,” she comes to my side with an angelic smirk,“I’ll shower again with you. I just got so sweaty in class that I needed to shower before dinner.”

Her eyes lower to my hands as if sensing where I need her touch.“Dash,” she gasps at my bloody, swollen knuckles. I didn’t shower. It’s useless unless I shower with her. That’s the only time I feel clean.

Fury fills me. She’s taken over my mind. Twisted my games.“I’m walking you to the cafeteria. You’ll eat with Dante and Cillian.”

Eyes flash with worry.“Where will you be?”

“Alone. I don’t need you tonight.” I begin to walk.

“I’m coming, regardless.”

Happiness blooms in my chest. It’s foreign and wrong. Light shouldn’t shine in the dark.

“Did something happen?” She hurries to match my pace as she drags her bag of pointe shoes with her. I had no idea how many shoes a dancer goes through each week. After we shower and do homework, Mila is constantly sewing her shoes. Watching her break into a new pair of ballet shoes made me consider if my little fox liked torture.

I’d never witness someone destroy a shoe only to put it back together again. She cracks the sole in half, rips it out, cuts half of it out, pours Jet glue into it, beats it down, and then tries to make it whole again. And all the sewing of those ribbons! I feel obligated to watch every time she punctures the fabric with the needle, making sure she doesn’t poke herself with it.

It's rather symbolic since that’s what I was doing to her: breaking and bending until she was molded perfectly for me.

“Stop being an ignorant fool, Mila.” I hiss with cold hate as I recall Connor’s threat. Quickly, I turn and grab her shoulders.“You think when you run, you can walk freely?”

I bend down and kiss her ear. Her delicate body trembles with a need that makes my body ache.“You think you can live a life without the feeling of something nipping at your heels?” I suck her neck, tasting her flesh, marking it so every other fucker here knows she’s mine. Game or no game.

She pushes her hips into her mine. A smirk blooms on her pretty face when she feels what she has done to me.

I step back and look down at her.“You will always have to look over your shoulder.”

Her smile falters like the slow drip of a facet. Drip, drip, drip. That echoing sound in one's mind will cause a slow descent into insanity to set in. That’s what Mila’s life on the run will be like: a slow collapse into madness.

“Tell me what’s happened. What’s changed? Did—”

Paleness devours the blush on her cheeks; fear is evil like that, all-consuming, hungry to swallow down every drop of joy.

“Did you get an order to fight in The Cleansing?”

I grin coldly,“Worried for me, little fox?”

“Yes,” she grabs my hand.

“I’m flattered,” I grunt coldly, desperately wanting to shake off the warmth spreading up my arm.

“Dash, tell me.” Mila tugs my hand; I feel the pull in the chambers of my heart.

I snatch my hand away, removing her power over me.“I hate you.” I snap.

She jerks but recovers quickly.“You hate that I’m making you feel.” Her eyes look me up and down.“Now you know how I felt when you first kissed me. I felt everything. Every cold, fragmented scar, every burning memory. But unlike you,” she steps toe-to-toe with me, tilting her chin up,“I’m not scared.”

“Liar.” Gently, I curl my fingers around her neck. Thump, thump. Her pulse beats under the tips of my fingers. I love the feeling of her life in the palm of my hand.“If you didn’t fear, you would stay here in this life and not try to run from it.”

Silence.

“Did the truth hurt you?” I bend down and kiss her lips. No kiss back.

Slowly, she steps back.

My fingertips scream to not let go, but I do.

She puts on a cold, emotionless mask, the same one I first saw her wearing when I first laid eyes on her.“I’ll see you after dinner,” she announces.

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