Page 85 of Point of No Return

He nods, staring off into the distance. “And there’s not really much need for that here.”

My gut sinks. “No. Not anymore.” He nods again and that uncomfortable silence settles over us like a blanket. Too hot, too heavy. I jump up, nearly spilling my coffee in the process. “Is Skar in the boathouse?”

“I think so. He wasn’t in his room.”

Steer clear of the boathouse then.

I head to go inside, but his voice over my shoulder stops me: “My brother’s never cared about anyone, by the way.”

I pause. “What??”

“Skar. I’ve never seen him act like he does with you.”

Cold and domineering? Like being married to me is the worst thing to ever happen to him?

Aleks is young. Too young to understand the rules in place for us. “He’s never been married before. We’re both expected to pretend- in public at least.”

Aleks scoffs, shaking his head as he smiles to no one in particular. “What about otherwise?” He must see the confusion on my face because he continues. “When no one else is around. Is that an act too?”

It’s all an act,I want to tell him, but for some reason, I can’t force myself to say the words. Maybe attraction makes us do things we don’t mean. And that’s all it is- it’s all it can be: Attraction.

“I’ll catch up with you later.”

I’m upstairs and changing before I can second-guess myself. I shed the tee and trade it for a tighter top and athletic shorts as well as a black pair of tennis shoes. I don’t bother wrapping my foot in an extra layer. I just throw my hair up into a tie and quietly sneak out the front door before anyone can notice me.

The rocky path from the house to the main road is less than a mile long, and when the stone begins to morph into concrete, I let myself break into a run.

Blood races through my veins as my feet pound the concrete. My skin feels flush despite the cool air, and my lungs burn with each quick inhale. The canopy of trees above passes in a blur. I’m running, blindly letting the world pass by.

I run until my chest is burning and my arms are sore and my feet are screaming. I run until the tears are no longer at the brink of falling, until my emotions aren’t clawing at my throat and threatening to escape.

By the time I slow to a brisk walk, my surroundings are so unfamiliar that I know I should just follow the road back to the house. But if I could stay out here forever, I would. Then I’d never have to be the one to kill them. I wouldn’t have to be the one to fail.

Blood soaks through the fabric, staining my skin red. I stare at the mess, the ruin created by my own hands. Shame, so unbridled and full, threatens to force my breakfast to make a reappearance, and for a few minutes, I just clench my fists together, squeezing my eyes shut. I will myself to calm down, to control it.

I am safe. I am alive. I will be okay. I will not break.

I will my eyes to open again, and I ground myself in my surroundings. Bathroom. Bleeding.

I need to finish cleaning my mess.

Blood drips down the sole of my shoe onto the tile flooring, and I finally tug the shoe off and over my heel.

My sock is soaked in blood, both it and the shoe ruined. Turning on the tub, I let the water wash the mess away. The flesh is fiery red but not infected. Just irritated. I make quick work of cleaning, drying, and wrapping the wound before a knock at the door rattles me out of my thoughts.

“Charlie?” Skar’s voice is just outside. Panic has me quietly hopping around the bathroom, looking around for a place to stash the bloodied shoe. “Why is there blood everywhere?”

Shit.

I must have missed some spots coming up the stairs. “Don’t come in!” I call, silently cursing myself as I momentarily stash the shoe beneath the sink cupboard. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“What-”

“I’m on my period!” I blurt, and when I’m met with nothing but silence, I want to bash my own head in.

“Your period,” he echoes.

He doesn’t buy it.

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