Page 151 of Traitor

"Everyone out," he says. "Yes, Ria too."

A beat of silence. A low click as the call ends.

He waits a minute and then he lifts me into his arms and carries me away.

I bury my face in his neck, hiding from the world. From what I've done. I don't want anyone to see me. I don't know if all of them left after he told them to. Ria would have put up a fight. I'm strong. But I need to fall apart right now. And I don't know why, but I can feel it in my soul that I need Bones right now.

A painful numbness spreads through me. I feel cold. So cold.

It's not better. He's dead but it's not better. He still took something from me. Still killed a piece of me. And no matter how much I pretend I'm ok, I'm not.

He cut into me for years. I was just a kid. The wounds are still there. Bleeding.

Bones was right. I never moved on. Never truly healed. I just pretended.

A fresh wave of sobs wracks through me and I grip his leather harder.

We enter a room. It smells like him.

"I need a shower," I whisper, my voice barely there, my head bowed.

He doesn't hesitate. He guides me to a door, silent, and hands me a shirt and a pair of sweatpants —his. I take them without a word and step inside, closing the door behind me.

The water is scalding, but I barely feel it. I scrub my skin raw, trying to wash away the blood, the weight of what I've done. But there's nothing left to scrub away except the numbness that has taken root inside me.

I dry off and pull on his clothes. The shirt is too big, swallowing me whole, the scent of him wrapping around me like a second skin. The sweatpants hang low on my hips, the fabric soft. And just like that, without warning, the tears come again. A fresh wave, silent and unrelenting.

I press my hand to my mouth, try to breathe through it, but it's useless. I feel empty and full at the same time. Hollow and drowning.

When I finally step out, my arms wrapped around myself like I can somehow hold all the broken pieces together, he's there, waiting for me.

I can see the tension buried deep in every muscle, in every sharp line of his body. Like he's carrying my pain, too.

I don't say anything when he guides me to a soft bed, makes me lay down and crouches in front of me. His eyes are worried. Haunted. Second-guessing everything. He's thinking that he shouldn't have let me do this.

I curl into myself and stretch my hand out, brushing my fingers against his face. His warmth steadies me.

"I'll be ok. You weren't wrong." My tears won't stop. "I just need you to hold me for a while. Ok, Bones? Just please hold me."

His nod is slow. Sure. Absolute.

"Whatever you need."

He climbs into the bed, pulling me into his arms, caging me against him. Like if he holds me tight enough, I won't slip away.

His breath warms my hair. His weight anchors me. Keeps me from drowning.

My tears keep falling. I think it's the first time I truly cry for the girl I used to be. I liked her. And she's dead. And now her monster is dead, too.

Sobs come out of me harder. Bones hugs me closer. Comforting. Grounding. He doesn't let me lose myself in the pain.

That's how I fall asleep when, finally, my tears run dry.

Bones

She sleeps through the day.

And I don't move.

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