Page 47 of Bound By Threads
‘You weren’t the ones left bleeding.’
The closest I’ve ever been to telling them the truth.
Roman lets out a sound—half scoff, half broken laugh. His foot kicks the side of the desk in front of him, the bang making me jump. “Maybe we should’ve broken you more. Maybe then you would be honest.”
The whiteboard marker slips from my hand and clatters to the floor as I spin around to face him fully. I want to tell him and watch them all break as they find out what really happened that day, but I don’t… I can’t.
No one moves. No one breathes.
I try to speak—try to form words, to shout, to scream—but nothing comes. Just that awful silence where my voice used to live.
Elijah watches me like he’s trying to figure out something he broke years ago. Roman’s jaw is still tight, and I swear I can hear his teeth grinding together. Crew’s knee bounces so fast it’s a wonder the chair hasn’t given out beneath him.
“You owe us,” Crew whispers.
I flinch, but I don’t back down.
“You don’t get to play the victim,” Roman spits. “You lied. You vanished. We thought you were fuckingdead. Do you know what that did?”
My legs tremble, threatening to give out, but I stay standing.
“Roman, stop.” Elijah barks, stepping in front of me so fast I barely register the movement. He squares his shoulders, shielding me from the other two. “That’s enough.”
But Roman’s not listening.
He lets out a hollow, bitter laugh. “She was fine before,” he mutters, voice low and dangerous. The way he used to talk before he turned his ire on me. “She was our friend… and then she wasn’t.”
He leans sideways, peering around Elijah’s broad frame, and sneers at me. Like I’m not already crumbling behind the protection of someone who used to terrify me. “You’re a faking bitch, Reyes.”
The words hit like a slap. Not loud, but sharp. Cutting straight through me.
I stagger back a step. The pressure of years I spent trying to survive, choking on silence as I fought against my mind to get my own voice back, just for this.
“Say something, Piglet,” Crew sneers from the other side of Elijah. “Or are you going to continue the broken silent act?”
I shake my head violently as Elijah moves away.
“Say something, Scarlett,” Elijah pleads.
I try.I try. My mouth opens, but my throat burns and chokes on air. Nothing comes out but a rasp of air.
“She’s faking,” Roman mutters.
Elijah’s head turns to meet his friend, and hesnaps.
In a blur, Elijah spins, grabs Roman by the front of his shirt, and slams him against the nearest desk—chairs scatter, one toppling over with a crash. “You don’t get to talk to her like that,” he growls, his voice deadly low.
Crew moves closer as if he’s going to interfere when Elijah cuts his glare to him. “You were just as broken by losing her. Don’t be fucking stupid now because you’re hurt.”
“I watched her disappear right in front of us as she became a shell of who she was,” Elijah spits, face inches from Roman’s. “I felt it in my soul when she left. And maybe we didn’t see the full picture back then, maybe we were too stupid to—but don’t you dare call her a liar.”
Roman shoves him back. “She didn’t disappear, though, did she? She couldn’t handle being nothing, so she ran and played dead. That’s all she ever was—just a cowardly whore in glitter.”
The words hit like a punch to the ribs. The air is sucked out of my lungs.
The weight of the memories. The pressure. Their eyes, their voices. The pain.
The years I’ve desperately spent clawing out of a grave they helped dig. The last bit of strength leaves my body, and I collapse.
